


Medics RP

by BSplendens



Series: RP Stash [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 546,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BSplendens/pseuds/BSplendens
Summary: Another RP stash.





	1. Chapter 1

This sort of general situation rescue was always fast. Send down a landing craft, gather the assorted people up, and leave as fast as possible. No time for anything other than basic "hi we aren't going to murder you, get in here before something comes along that will", then back up to the main ship and its array of defensive weaponry. From there, get everybody up into the medbay, had to check for injuries and potentially contagious illnesses.    
Forceps had spotted a target. A target who needed a very long shower. Pulling a flexible metal rod from subspace, they approached Sticks and gestured firmly towards the shower, then prodded lightly at them with the stick to get them moving.Scoot. Time to get clean.    
Forceps was a bit smaller and lankier than Sticks, all sharp edges and angles, red optics narrowed in mild irritation at this whole situation. Nobody liked dirty people in their medbay, especially not Forceps, especially not when there was a perfectly workable shower over there.  _ Go, go, go. _

 

It had been a while since Sticks was in a ship. But their dazed marveling at clean, not-ancient tech got cut short by a poke. They turned to see the small, frustrated medic on the other end of the metal rod digging into their side.    
"H-Hey!" their protest was cut short from the sight of the shower. Their eyes widened. They glanced at Forceps with a gleeful smile on their face before sprinting over to it, almost running over several bots in the process.    
Sticks re-emerged after the better part of an hour. Grime now gone, Forceps could see what was left of a dark blue and scarlet paintjob after thousands of years of neglect and unrelenting sand.

 

Forceps huffed in satisfaction, then sneezed a couple of times and turned away to collect other bots and herd them into the shower or onto a berth depending on injury level. They'd figured out a few centuries ago that herding worked better than attempting to communicate with gestures, at least for brief things that basically consisted of "go shower, u nasty".    
Having sorted all the patients and dealt with two relatively major injuries, Forceps ended up in the shower as Sticks left, washing off the sand. A spot on their back was, as usual, out of their reach, so they glanced around for a moment and located Sticks. Sticks didn't flinch too badly around them, so Forceps, once again, went with the straightforward method- step out of the shower just far enough to reach out, gently grasp Sticks' forearm, tug him back into the shower, then turn around and indicate the spot. The spot just between the saws on their back, that they couldn't reach because their saws blocked it.    
Projecting from Forceps' back in place of winglets were two circular saws, extended out on narrow rods, and they couldn't reach the flexible platelets between their winglets. At least the saws weren't actually sharp around the edges- they were laser saws, lined with emitters, and the blades weren't being projected at the moment.

 

Sticks started at being grabbed so suddenly. They whipped around to see the funny medic from before pointing to a spot on their back. It took a few seconds of increasingly energetic gestures for them to fully figure out what was needed from them.    
"Ah okay, I can do that," they said stepping in with Forceps, "you know you really should warn someone before you just grab em."   
They passed their hands over the problem spot and wash off the dirt. After a final once-over, they took pause at Forceps's saws, giving one a light tap, "nasty lookin huh, well, I've cleaned up back here."    
Stepping out of the shower, they turned again to the other medic, "and uhh, it might be a bit late, or early for this but... thank you, me and the rest of The Choir really..." they sigh, "really thought we were goners."

 

Forceps huffed quietly, momentarily shuttering their optics, and relaxed slightly at the touches. Warmth. This had their approval.    
Once the area was clean, they shook themself dry and walked into the medbay after Sticks, making gentle 'shoo' motions at him. Best to inspect Sticks for- well, everything. "Up on the berth, we need a look at you. Standard new arrivals exam- injuries, potential contagens, and so on. Scans, energon draw, physical exam if you don't mind. My name is Forceps, and I am functionally mute in non-medical situations. Do you have any medical concerns?"    
Vocalizer activated for now, they looked just a fraction more confident, sawlets up, armor mostly relaxed but with their shoulder plating lifted in a confident manner. They expected compliance. They usually got it- people didn't tend to be afraid of them, and their practicality generally helped if someone was nervous.

 

"Ah so you  _ do _ talk," Sticks said, eyes lighting up. They cleared their throat, put on their most professional smile, sat up straight, and offered Forceps a hand, "I'm Sticks, the chief -well  _ only _ \- medic of the Choir, the group you and your guys just picked up. As for concerns, we've been pretty low on energon for several years now so everyone's showing symptoms of chronic fatigue, likely in concert with other issues with starvation. Almost all of em have some level of internal corrosion from yanno, the sand." they paused, averting their eyes, "many of my field patch ups are... not holding up very well..."  Sticks's eyes flashed with distress, their shoulders tensed for a moment before they sigh, "They need professional treatment. My concerns are for them."

 

Forceps took Sticks' servo and shook it, then got mildly distracted, turning the servo over to check for damage. "Hm. We noticed. I have three other medics in the medbay with me, one of them older than the war, all of them highly skilled. Your team is well taken care of- we'd noticed the issues. They looked overwhelmed- most are resting in a smaller room off the medbay. One is still in here, a patch job in their internals tore and had to be repaired, we're watching to be sure it doesn't tear again," they explained, offering a cube of energon to Sticks in the same moment to hopefully lessen the sting. "I had assumed they didn't have a medic at all. Either you have memory issues or your training is lacking. Regardless- they are being well taken care of, and should recover. My concern right now is for  _ you _ . I do not know how strong your medic's coding is, but medics lacking the proper supplies to repair patients properly tend to fare poorly when they lose patients, and I assume medics lacking proper  _ training _ are prone to similar reactions. Now- you are going to need some detailed cleaning and probably corrosion treatment for your internals. I also suspect you may be suffering from old, untreated injuries, being the only medic. We are going to have to remove a decent amount of your plating to deal with those issues, I suspect. Are you comfortable with that out here, or do you want to go somewhere private and less open?" they asked, field professional but thrumming quiet  _ reassurance/confidence/comfort _ . Sticks cared, evidently. It wasn't good for people when they cared but couldn't do anything about it.

 

Sticks stood silent for a while absorbing Forceps's words, their head bobbing in a slow, continual nod. Forceps was right. They could already feel a twinge of pain in their bad hip and the familiar soreness of self-neglect. They fiddled with the energon cube in their hands, not making eye contact. Maybe someday they could train themself out of their bad habits, knowing that at last they wouldn't have to scrape by on a share of what they could find already abandoned. Finally they cleared their throat again speaking in a low voice, "out here's fine, we never had much in the way of privacy anyway."

 

Forceps nodded once and displayed a medical scanner by way of warning, then ran a scan of Sticks, full-body and general to check for issues. The hip stood out, and Forceps narrowed their optics slightly, then did their level best to just outright put Sticks on his side- one servo on his flank, the other hooking gently but firmly under his leg, lifting and pushing to tilt him. "Come on. That hip first, before it grinds itself into being worse. Loosen your plating, relax, and tell me if you object to anything I'm doing. Otherwise, hold still."    
Something they'd learned treating Decepticons- patients who'd been isolated and didn't show any significant aversion to touch should be handled in the most physical way possible. Attempting (and succeeding) to move Sticks wasn't just Forceps being straightforward, it was an offer of contact  without appearing to actually offer anything. Easy for a patient to 'accidentally' get closer that way.

 

Sticks complied without fuss, laying down on their side. Now not beholden to say anything they took up a pastime they rarely were able to do: silent observation. From their position they noticed Forceps's posture, the confidence in their movements, their calculating gaze as they began their examination. Sticks watched without judgement, their only thought an effervescent desire to internalize what Forceps was doing. They had much to learn and few to learn  _ from, _ and right now they couldn't tell when their next chance would be.   
They were so engrossed, the pain of Forceps finally breaking into their old wound caught them off guard.   
"AAGH," their entire frame tensed in reaction.

 

That was  _ not _ an ideal reaction. Forceps had been removing armor plating, starting to coax components apart to get a proper look at the injury, but evidently it had been improperly treated- if treated at all. Their field clamped down to hide the  _ upset/sympathy/apology _ reaction that tended to get an upset reaction out of many tough-acting Decepticon patients, and their servo slid up to Sticks' side, offering warmth and a point of contact. "Easy, easy. Hold still. That's... I hope you at least have the experience to know, that's bad. Was this ever actually treated? There's sand- Primus. Probably going to have to take half of this hip apart just to clean it out, never mind the repairs. How squeamish are you, and do you have any allergies to anesthetics? I can either put you under entirely or numb everything from about your waist down on this side. And I'm moving you to a different room. Stay there," they ordered, reaching down to unlock the wheels on the berth, and hooked a servo under the edge to move it towards one of the doors on a nearby wall.

 

Sticks grimaced, "you caught me, shrapnel got stuck in there. Didn't have the resources to fix it so i just left it alone until it shifted itself into a spot where it wasn't too painful." They gripped the edge of the berth as Forceps wheeled it away. "Allergies, none. And don't put me under, I'd like to see how you do it," they muttered through gritted teeth, "I suppose I'm in for the chewing out of the millennia, huh? Serves me right for trying something I'm not built for."

 

" _ Don't _ give me any of that Functionalist slag," Forceps hissed with unexpected vitriol, the saws on their back spinning rather loudly for a moment in an angry gesture. "What you're missing isn't genetics, it's  _ training _ . You would benefit from medic-grade servos, but I've met competent medics who were born something entirely else. I'd think you might realize that self-repair works best without  _ shrapnel _ in the center, though. May be missing some common sense. And what else were you supposed to do? If there are no medics,  _ someone _ has to try something. A bad patch job is usually better than none. This hip of yours is what happens when no repairs are provided and the wound is then exposed to sand. How old is this?"    
They were upset, sure, but less at Sticks and more at the situation. Firmly petting their patient's side, they got the berth into a small side room and locked the door to be sure no one would barge in. Locking the wheels again, they reached under the side of the berth and pulled out a couple of thick mesh straps, fastening one over Sticks' waist and the other over about midthigh. "Need you to be still. If you suddenly find yourself disturbed by the straps,  _ please _ tell me instead of trying to hide it, people end up panicking when they do that. And... hold still."

Parting the cables in Sticks' side, they located a specific energon line, holding it gently between two fingertips and pausing to look up at him. "This line is one that runs down to your hip assembly and leg. If I fill this with a numbing agent, it will easily coat your entire hip area before dissipating," they explained, then, hiding the syringe as well as someone with narrow servos could, did just that. "Really- shrapnel? And no sand protection? You can't let sand get into joints like this, let alone injured joints. If you're  _ lucky _ I can save all of this joint. If not, you'll need replacement components, at least. Hm. Helps that you aren't terribly bulky, at least. Less weight to support."

 

Sticks twisted around the best they could to see what Forceps was doing, "It's... old, I got it the day our first medic died. In hindsight I wouldn't've left it. And," they winced again as Forceps began picking through their not-quite-numb-yet leg, "I don't think Autobot command really realized what they were getting into when they sent the lot of us to that sand-dump of a planet. Didn't give us nearly enough sandproofing supplies."   
They paused for a bit, letting thoughts wash over them, "As for luck, I wouldn't be surprised if it's run out for me. Getting picked up before being eaten by sandworms is luck enough for one lifetime," they grinned, "though it's too bad if it's gonna be replaced here, wish I coulda used something for myself from my stockpile for once."

 

"You are using nothing on yourself or any other living thing if it comes from that planet. Every filter and cleaning system in your frame is probably at least partially clogged at this point. We are not a species that does well around this amount of windblown foreign material," Forceps declared, running a pinpoint scan to assess the situation, and immediately began to-    
Well, to take Sticks' hip joint apart. Not just open it up, they began removing actual pieces. "Hm. Doubt they cared enough to research properly. This-" a pause, holding something up with a pair of tweezers, "-there are pebbles in this joint. All right- I absolutely need you not to move, I am going to have to almost entirely disassemble your hip joint and there is potential for some of this to be very badly twisted if you move with not enough strut support attaching your leg to your frame. So... I need you to stay calm. And do tell me  _ now _ if you have any objections to your medic being a Decepticon," they suggested, moving away to a cabinet on the wall, and came back with a cube of energon, a straw, and a blanket. "Any problems?"

 

Sticks, leery of disturbing the balance of their disassembled hip gave a gentle shrug, "I threw away that badge a  _ long _ time ago. Nobody in the Choir really cares anymore anyway. Everyone brought something to continue the group's survival, Autobots  _ and _ Decepticons," they sighed, popping the straw in the energon box and finally taking a sip, "it's unfortunate the only thing that could really convince one side of the other's worth is utility, rather than something innate but in the end we all die the same... And, I suppose,  _ fear death _ the same."

 

"Good. Ship is too mixed for faction lines," Forceps commented, looking slightly less confident for a fraction, and put the subject entirely aside. Politics. Not a good topic for them. Not medical. Shut them down. Back to work.    
Humming a soft note, they shook the heavy blanket out, then folded it twice and draped it over Sticks' chassis and midsection. The warmth and the weight tended to help keep people calm, and they explained as much, going back to work on Sticks' hip. With one servo, this time, petting his flank with the other servo. There were no pathogens on Sticks' side that weren't also in this thoroughly messed-up hip joint.    
After a bit longer, they pulled the shrapnel free with a nasty scraping noise, setting it next to the multiple removed pieces of thoroughly filthy hip plating. A moment's pause, then they shrugged, hopped up onto the berth, straddled Sticks' waist, and settled like that, facing his hip joint to get the right angle for this. "Any complaints about anything now? Doing all right with the restraints? No shame if you have objections to things now, just about everyone has something at this point. War. Death. Fuckery on all sides."

 

Sticks grinned, "You'd be surprised what becomes acceptable after spending a significant amount of time crawling around inside corpses. I'm sure I've done much worse to my comrades too. Salvo got a rock stuck in his chassis once, oh the places this arm went that day. Took the better part of the week before he thanked me for it." They took another long sip from their energon cube, "I just wish I could see what you're doing back there, you don't have a mirror or something?"

 

"Was thinking more problems with restraints due to captivity and/or torture, but whatever," Forceps muttered, then paused, pulling an extension cable from subspace. "No mirrors. Do have an extension cable. Want my optical feed?" they asked, casually plugging the cable into a data-port on the back of one shoulder, and dropped the other end of it near Sticks' wrist for him to grab if he wanted to plug in. "Medic programming comes with a subset of programming to make plugging in simpler. Allows transmission of data with no emotional involvement. Go ahead- plug in. Won't conflict with yours, won't get in my processor, you'll be partitioned off. Easy."    
Why not be educational? Didn't make things any harder. Sticks very much didn't seem squeamish here. Shifting a bit, they clamped their thighs tighter around Sticks' frame and pulled a stubborn piece out with a terrible screech of rough metal, then stopped to assess things and figure out if they would be able to clean anything properly. "Your hip I can fix. The rest of you... I'm inclined to see how you do with proper fuel and a good cleaning. Except your filters, need to clean those."

  
  


"Never tried something like this before," Sticks said, picking up the other end of the cable. They shifted a bit to access the ports under the back of their helmet. It took a bit of digging to find after so many years of disuse, but eventually they picked it out. A wave of nostalgia passed over them. They drew back slightly as the picture of an archive screen from long ago flashed before their eyes.    
"You know, I'm curious how you got here, on this ship that for some reason got close enough to spot us on the surface," they brushed off the port to try to get rid of any stray sand and plugged in, "ahh there we go."

 

A blink or two to get things going, then Forceps presented a direct line to their visual feed, sensory input that Sticks could choose to use and interpret instead of what his own optics were seeing. Easier than trying to wrangle mirrors. "Organic friends, a species far less bothered by sand than we are, spotted your group and thought we might want to know about you. Probably also wanted you out of their way. They can  _ have _ that sandpit," they huffed, pausing to shake their servos free of grime, and plucked an unidentifiable chunk of grime out of Sticks' hip. "Now- we need to scrub all this out, then I can start putting your hip back together. Anything else hurt? And, while we're at it- new patient intake. Any past medical conditions you feel are worth missing? Any significant viral infections? Last time you had a proper charge release?"

 

"Flesh ones, huh, I hope they  _ eat _ that sandworm," Sticks said to themself, "I think a steady supply of energon should fix the rest of my problems. As for past medical conditions there's..." They trailed off and gently wrung their hands, feeling the bare skeleton of what used to be, "Nothing... I wouldn't want to fix myself."  Sticks grew quiet and focused on what they were seeing through Forceps's optics.

 

"Didn't answer my question. I do need to know when the last time was. I am going to suggest that you find a partner to interface with, it's more effective than self-service. Also better for you in general, we're a social species and benefit from contact. If none of your team is interested, I can point you towards those on this ship who would be interested. Or I can give you the names of the two carriers we have on board if all you want is contact," they said, then shifted, smooth leg plating clamping tighter around Sticks' frame. Some people liked this, having the lightweight little medic climb on them and be warm. Well- physically warm. Forceps didn't do 'affectionate'.

 

Sticks's optics flashed as they finally processed what Forceps was telling them, "O-oh well. I haven't really felt the need to in ages, I think I could probably find someone in the Choir who can uhh... help." Their cavalier tone finally wore off. They began to shift slightly, unable to really mask their discomfort. They divulged just as much personal information as conversations dictated, no more. Usually this was fine and allowed them convenient avoidance of discussing emotions, deep seated fears, and the state of their sex life. Though it was hard to avoid such direct questions. "I'll take care of... that." they concluded, mentally resigning themself to the impending awkward conversation with their comrades.

 

"Hold  _ still _ ," Forceps ordered, clamping their legs tighter for a moment and probably not making things better. "Again- I can point you towards people on this ship who would be willing to help, no strings attached. Or I can assist. Don't move."    
Having cleaned what was left of Sticks' hip joint out, they picked up one of the removed pieces and began to scrub it clean with a cloth and a dab of solvent, removing as much grime as possible. "Once I remove the  _ filth _ from these, I should be able to replace your hip joint, probably with some extra padding. At the least, it will function much more smoothly than usu-"    
Twisting around, they aimed their optics (and, by consequence, what Sticks was seeing) at Stick's face, sawlets perking up a bit further. "-you aren't listening, are you?"

 

" _ Primus _ " Sticks flinched at the sudden movement, shaking the whole table, "This is the  _ worst _ way to see yourself." They turned their head to look Forceps, and by extension themself, in the optics, taking a moment to observe their own face for the first time in clearly a long time, " _ wow _ I look like slag. Sorry I'll pay more attention to the task at hand. Just... warn me when you're gonna turn so fast and also look a bot in the face with their own eyes."

 

"Hm, apologies, that  _ would _ be strange," Forceps muttered, and patted Sticks' side by way of apology. When they turned back to their work, it was more slowly, careful not to swing around again. "Your frame explains your past situation. Most of it should heal well. Now... your frame  _ does _ seem to have some starvation-based adaptations. Those may be permanent unless you deliberately get them modded out. I would personally keep them, they probably lessen your fuel requirements and that's always helpful. Your choice."

After a few moments more, they paused their work for a moment, glancing just slightly back towards Sticks. "You didn't answer that question. I appreciate clarity. Do you want me to point you towards someone to help with your charge, or help you myself?"

 

Sticks cleared their throat, "I'll... find someone. I'd rather know the person I'm to interface with, though I appreciate the offer." They quieted down again and lay still, this time focusing intently on their feed. Forceps worked with a certain confidence, they noted, their movements seemed well-practiced. The last time Sticks took apart a hip, they'd struggled putting the pieces together again. The joint was complex and comprised of many parts that fit together in a very exact way. Meanwhile Forceps's servos worked with a finesse Sticks could only hope to one day achieve. As they lay on their side, they attempted as best they could to mirror the other medic's actions without being too distracting.

 

Forceps paused once or twice to flex their servos and stretch their fingertips, and a few times to transform one tool or another out of one part of their servos. A long, narrow probe for easing a part back into place, a piece that turned itself and their fingertip into a clamp, a scalpel to cut a piece of artificial padding. They weren't speaking, focusing too intently on what they were doing, but occasional flickers of their intent darted along the link when they focused especially hard.    
Once the hip joint was reassembled, Forceps wrapped it up in a soft mesh bandage, containing it. The muscle cables over the top held everything together, but a little extra support wouldn't hurt. Sliding off Sticks' frame, they sat on the edge of the berth instead, prodding gently at his flank. "Go on- get up, slowly, try that out, then tell me what else hurts. I assume I'm going to need to take some other parts of you apart to access something."

 

Sticks reached back behind their head to take out the cable. After a few seconds of readjusting to their own sight they pushed off the blanket to examine their newly-fixed hip. They slowly moved first one leg, then the other to the other side of the berth. Something about their new hip seemed to buzz, they couldn't tell if it was the anesthetic or some kind of localized excitement. They edged off the berth, their good leg at last standing on the floor.  With a solid grip on the nearest counter, Sticks eased weight onto their bad leg. Before they knew it they were standing again, the familiar ache from before was gone. They took a step with their good leg, testing the flexion in their new hip. "Holds weight... fine, doesn't feel like much right now but I imagine that might change once the anesthetic wears off..." they said quietly, almost to themself. Finally they took a step with their bad leg, promptly stumbling forward. Their hand caught the edge of the counter but not before knocking some tools onto the floor.    
"Ahhhh. Apologies, those must've been sterilized," they said, frowning, "It seems to move fine but the cable strength isn't there. I think it just needs some time to readjust."

 

Forceps watched Sticks move as they gathered up the extension cord, but did  _ not _ attempt to catch him. Partly because he wasn't outright collapsing, partly because trying to catch their former patients had mostly resulted in either being shoved away or being accidentally crashed into.    
Hm. Moving up behind Sticks with a warning hum, they hooked a servo behind his knee and lifted it, slowly, flexing the hip joint. "Most likely your frame doesn't know what to do with a hip that slides  _ smoothly _ for once. The grime and its friction meant your frame needed less strength to support you with that hip. You may need a crutch for a few days. Come here- back onto the berth," they ordered, slipping under Sticks' arm to act as a crutch, and attempted to move towards the berth. "Any old scarring that might not be showing up well on the scans? May as well check that out."

 

With Forceps's help, Sticks sat back down on the berth. "Fortunately, I got a good excuse to stay away from the fighting once I took up medicine, didn't get too banged up after that. I've got a few old scars on my back if you want to make sure they're okay." Sticks twisted an arm around to point to an old-looking superficial scar right next to one of the tires on their back. Their hand, however, this close up, looked wrong. It was knobby and skeletal, as if something were missing from it.

 

"May as well check for- what is this?" Forceps muttered, catching hold of Sticks' forearm to confirm what they'd seen, frowning slightly. Optics narrowed, they took his servo in both of their own, turning it over a couple of times, and lightly stroked their fingers in an attempt to figure it out. "What is... are you missing all your servo plating? This looks like... struts and wiring, and not much else. Servos don't come like this, it's too exposed. Too much contamination and damage risk. Did someone" a quick shudder at the very thought "take the rest off? The rest of your frame in no way looks like the sort of hyper-minimalist structure I'd expect to see something like this on, it can't  _ possibly _ be natural unless it's a genetic defect, and Primus knows no Functionalist tolerates that sort of thing around long, you'd have had this modified."

 

Sticks looked away, their frame shuddering for a moment before forcefully drawing their servo back. "No, you're right it's not natural. I don't quite know what to do with them," their voice was low, leaking apprehension they couldn't quite hide for the first time in the few hours they'd spent with Forceps, "guess I got too used to the Choir taking things at face value..."

 

Whispering "I can't help if I can't see," Forceps gently reclaimed Sticks' servo, turning it over once more, then held it between his own and attempted to meet the other's optics. "What happened? Did someone do this to you? Did you do this to  _ yourself _ ?"    
Self-mutilation was rare among hyper-practical medics, but it happened, primarily as a result of guilt. Sticks, well... Sticks had more than their fair share of guilt. More than anyone's fair share. Maybe the lack of true medic's coding-? Regardless, Forceps kept firm hold of Sticks' servo, not letting him have it back, holding it in almost a protective manner. This sort of thing was akin to showing a Seeker a set of wings stripped bare of plating, medics' servos (at least, the ones attached to those who were born or made to be medics) were extraordinarily sensitive.

 

Sticks was silent. They didn't pull away this time, but wouldn't meet Forceps's optics. They took a shuddering sigh, unearthing emotions buried deep under practicality and time.   
"Have you ever seen an archivist's servos? Their fingers split in order to more quickly log things into their database," they began quietly, "not tuned for medicine, sure but delicate enough to stick out. The problem with being an archivist, though, is that nobody wants you on the battlefield." Their voice got caught up in emotional static, "I was captured on day 1. Nobody came for me. They eventually figured out why. Putrid bastards called this a service."

 

Forceps tried to say something, but their voicebox clicked uselessly, their processor firmly knocked out of "medic mode". Emotions. Right. Field roiling  _ upset/anger/pity/revulsion _ with an undernote of attempted comfort, and they pet the back of Sticks' servo, entirely at a loss for words. Not just no clue what to say- no ability to say it if they could figure anything out.    
After a moment, they let go and abruptly stood up, making strong "stay there!" motions as they backed up and headed out the door. Within the minute, they were back with a small case, and they practically climbed into Sticks' lap in their hurry to get onto the berth. Catching one of their servos, they placed it firmly on their own thigh, opening the case to show a set of delicate cleaning tools. Not their personal kit- this wasn't as delicate as was needed for their own servos. Regular-person-servos delicate. Appropriate here. Picking up a small brush, they wordlessly showed it to Sticks, rather angrily gestured to their own voicebox, made a quick X motion over it, then vented deeply before starting on Sticks' servos. Slow, gentle, careful cleaning, meant to get every last particle of contaminant out, more thoroughly than any shower could.

 

Sticks sat patiently as they watched Forceps work, now with more passion than they'd ever seen. They couldn't bring themself to speak. Their brain simply could not find the right words. Whether it was emotion, or some sort of subconscious empathetic reaction to Forceps's muteness, Sticks couldn't say.    
The only thing to be heard was the scratching sounds of the cleaning tools. Bots outside shuffled around occasionally, but the walls muffled all other noise. It was a warm kind of silence, one devoid of the tension that rests between strike and counterstrike, lacking the promise of a deafening boom or clangor, existing only as itself. A safe kind of silence. Sticks felt a weight shift within them, not as if it were being discarded, that could never happen, but rather hoisted higher on their back, a better place to put it.    
As Forceps finished with Sticks's other servo, Sticks found themself calm. Their brain sorted itself into its usual orderly fashion. "I think... that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," they murmured. They laughed gently, a sincere smile spread across their face.

 

Their work done, Forceps shredded a strip of bandage into narrow pieces and gently wrapped Sticks' servos up, protecting the exposed mechanisms in lieu of armor. A few deep vents, then they picked up both of Sticks' servos and tucked them under their own chin- and took several moments to register that this was probably very strange. Letting go, they blinked a couple of times and looked down at their own servos, then tucked themself up like that- servos in loose fists, against their throat, under their chin- and curled in slightly to mime sleeping. Medics slept like that fairly often, curled up to protect their servos. Protective.    
What- hm. What now? Forceps thought for a few seconds, then sighed, shook away the remnants of emotions, and drew their sawlets up. "I do not currently have the equipment to rebuild your servos as they were before. That is entirely possible in the future, but not now. I can absolutely replace your armor. It is your choice what to do with your frame, but I highly,  _ highly _ recommend armor on your servos to protect the mechanisms. And- I-"    
They tried to say something emotional, their vocalizer quit again, and they tried to speak for a moment longer. It didn't work. Shrugging widely, they huffed a dissatisfied noise with their vents, then sighed and just... gestured to all of Sticks. Emotions. Not so good for speaking.    
Pit, while they were at it- Forceps picked up the brush again and gestured inquiringly to Sticks' frame, helm cocked, attempting to ask if he'd like anywhere else scrubbed. Why not? He seemed to be enjoying it. He'd certainly relaxed beautifully. Forceps was enjoying having a patient relax so much. Good for both of them.

 

Sticks cradled their servos, gently touching the bandages, testing out the movement Forceps had shown them -fingers curled under chin. It felt right. Safe. They looked to meet Forceps's optics. "Thank you, I... I hope," they paused, clearing their throat and sitting up a little straighter, "I hope these servos can be of use to you and your ship. I know I'm inexperienced, and will probably do more harm than good for a while. But I couldn't go back to being an archivist. I don't want to. I want to get better at  _ this. _ Would you... allow me to join you here?"

 

Forceps' optics gleamed and they lifted their sawlets, taking Sticks' servos again. This time, it was to gently clasp his servos in theirs, field doing its absolute best to wrap him in  _ approval/excitement/determination/comfort _ . Yes. Absolutely. Not that their vocalizer was going to let them say it, but  _ yes _ . Making a quick "stay there!" gesture to Sticks, they got up, opened the door, leaned out, and waved to get someone's attention. When that someone came close enough, they immediately began to explain things via sign, albeit with their motions quickly getting fast and jagged as they explained the bandages.    
The mech they'd called in was Patches. He was a bit below average height and very round, armor and winglets smooth and rounded, clean white with patterns of light blue, soft green, and a particularly nice shade of lavender. Wide blue optics looked Sticks over, then turned to Forceps, watching his servos. "I- yes, hello, I'm- goodness, dear, slow down! You know I can't read you when you shout like that. A bit slower, please?"    
Forceps huffed unhappily, snorted, and slowed down in an exaggerated manner at first, but managed to keep their signing at a less jagged, angry pace. Done explaining, they moved back over to sit next to Sticks, right up close- they'd been sitting on him before, no sense being afraid of contact now.

Patches looked confused for a moment, then rather horrified, then sympathetic, and stepped forward to offer Sticks a servo. "My goodness, you've had an unpleasant time of it. You are absolutely welcome to join us! Let's see, now," he muttered, turning Sticks' servo over, then patted the back in approval and looked up at him. "Yes, I can work with this! One of our current medbay assistants is a Vehicon- only three fingers including the thumb, and he does fine. There's a limit to how well you can do without medic-grade servo sensitivity, but you can certainly learn to do  _ well _ as a medic. You just might have to pass off more complicated or intricate procedures to someone else. Or get an upgrade when we have the supplies, I suppose. Although... if it's all wire and struts under here, I think I'd prefer we get you some servo plating first. Partly for your own safety. But you are  _ absolutely _ welcome to join! I, ah- I see Forceps is nonverbal at the moment, did they manage to explain that to you? Goodness- forgot to introduce myself. I'm Patches. I'm... sort of the unofficial CMO here? I'm the oldest medic, at least. Scalpel's in charge in stressful situations, she's better at giving orders, you'll meet her later. Or notice her, she's the femme who looks like knives. Don't get too near her energon in the mornings, she's... snippy."

 

Sticks shook Patches's servo with glee, "Call me Sticks, pleased to make your acquaintance!" Their smile shined like a star, they'd never expected this sort of emphatic welcome, "I don't know how much Forceps has told you but-" they were cut off by a commotion outside. The room turned quiet.    
"- _ saw _ them go into that room! What's going on in there? It's been fragging  _ hours, _ " a smooth but clearly angry voice drifted in from the open door.    
"-Salvo?" Sticks said quietly, "oh Primus here he comes."   
"Please calm down sir-" a quieter voice responded. There was the unmistakable click of metal on metal- a servo extended to stop the bot.   
"What are you doing to them in there? They were fine when we got on this ship, now you have another bot rushing over- Sticks! STIIICKS!!" the voice yelled, followed by another metallic clash, this one more forceful than the last. The heavy repetitive  _ thunk _ of running footsteps against metal floor preceded an angry bot grabbing the doorframe and forcing himself in. His body was lightly built for someone of medium height, the remnants of a raspberry-red paintjob accenting his brightly-glowing yellow-green optics. A jingle and then a crash issued from behind him as momentum brought his trailing bullet-strings to where he stood, plastered in the doorframe. "Sticks! Are you alright?" he yelled, attempting to walk further in.   
Sticks frowned at the angry bot in the doorway and held up their servos in a 'stay back' manner. They put on a stern face and a commanding voice, "Salvo as your doctor I'm gonna have to ask you to calm the frag down."

 

Patches looked a bit worried for a moment, moving to stand in front of Sticks and Forceps (he was much more durable than them), then just looked a bit annoyed. "-oh, goodness. Sir, please stop running into things, he is- well, no, okay,  _ none _ of you were fine when you got here, more like 'not actively dying'. Does- does he really look like he's-" he paused, turning to look over his own shoulder, then sighed and looked slightly more annoyed. "-stop breaking the doorframe, please. Look at him. Does he look like we've done anything particularly sinister? Ah- disregarding Forceps. They'll stop doing  _ that _ once you stop looking like a potential threat. Mostly- here," he declared, stepping forward to actually  _ open _ the door, like a sensible person, so Salvo would stop trying to barge through it. "Stop- quit breaking things! We need this. Quit that," he ordered, aiming a finger up at Salvo's face, looking thoroughly unafraid and also terribly annoyed. It took him from looking like someone's adorable intern to- well, he still looked adorable, though managing to successfully pull off a stern and commanding expression. Hard with those big blue optics.

Forceps, startled, had done what they usually did to avoid someone trying to grab their seemingly defenseless little frame. They'd hunched their shoulders, put themself with one shoulder to their patient, tucked their servos in close, and activated the saws on their back. Laser sawblades, almost the length of one finger joint, projected from the normally-harmless saws, and the central disks spun with a quiet but thoroughly ominous hum of metal and plasma slicing the air. After a moment, they settled, lowered their saws, and deactivated the lasers, but stayed between Sticks and this mech just in case. They didn't know what defensive capabilities Sticks had, but they  _ did _ know that, with Patches as a wall, they had a very good shot at deterring or potentially disabling this mech if he turned out to be a threat.

  
  


"It's  _ they _ ," Salvo growled at Patches, "Sticks is a  _ they _ and if you'd known ANYTHING about them you-"   
" _ WHAT _ did I say about calming down, Salvo," Sticks yelled, "these bots saved our  _ lives _ you idiot, treat them with some damn respect."   
Salvo sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the opened door for a moment. He looked down. Absorbed in thought, he began to bounce his free leg.   
"You're alright?" he said. His voice lost its anxious edge.   
"Of course I'm alright," Sticks said, "I was having a conversation about joining their medical staff. What about the rest of the Choir?"   
Salvo looked back at the room, sizing Patches up, "I saw Bowline on a bed, hooked up to some machines, they said she'd be fine though. The rest of us got some light patch-ups. We were waiting in the bunk-room for you..."   
Sticks grimaced, "You can tell them it's okay- it'll  _ be _ okay."   
"What about your leg?" Salvo asked, gesturing to the bandage.   
"Long story you're not gonna like let's just leave it at that," Sticks replied.   
Salvo nodded, somewhat annoyed but without anything else to say, "Okay."   
The bot continued nodding as he walked out of the room. He paused at the threshold to look once again at Sticks before closing the door softly behind him.

 

"Hm, well, my apologies" with a quick glance back at Sticks to make it clear who the apology was directed at "but we didn't really get to that part of introductions before you decided to run through my medbay. For future reference, you can  _ ask _ about people instead of damaging doors and barging into private rooms. Sometimes we conduct personal exams on here! Closed doors in medbays usually mean you should  _ knock _ . Goodness," Patches declared softly, watching Salvo leave, then turned back to Sticks. "Normally I don't mind the protective types at all, but really- could have asked. We aren't exactly hiding you. Ah well... now he's seen you aren't being taken apart for your organs, used as an incubator, or something else terrible and sinister. You did a great job of looking alive and not held captive!"    
Forceps snorted and signed something that was probably rude, then gestured to get Patches' attention and indicated themself.

"-ah, yes. Forceps. As you've seen, they sometimes don't speak. It's not a preference, they can't. Selective mutism- a minor processor defect. They can't speak in... most situations that aren't medical in nature. It varies a bit, but mostly they just don't talk outside the medbay because that's, and I'm quoting directly here, 'easier than repeatedly explaining this to idiots when my processor would prefer I not'. The sign- that's fairly standard medic's sign, you'll probably pick it up fairly soon. They were a Decepticon medic, so they're very... practical about a lot of things. Very physical," Patches chuckled, heading for the door. "I'll leave you two alone for now. We can talk later. Give them a klik or two, they'll be speaking soon. We'll..." pausing, he swung the bent door back and forth, then shut it (from outside) and peered through the gap between it and the frame. "...we'll take the door off the frame for Crucible to fix later. Last time he tried to fix a door while it was still attached, he had to make it new hinges. At least it shuts."    
Huffing angrily, Forceps paced in a quick little circle, then vented long and deep and calmed down. "...anyway. Do you have anywhere else you didn't manage to get clean in the shower? Spike housing, valve, spark chamber, any deep joints? Take a moment to focus on yourself and assess that, we have some equipment in here to get everything cleaned up properly. I can assist, or I can leave. The door" a pause, walking over to it, and Forceps shut a large, solid latch "-is locked now. Privacy."

  
  


"Sorry about Salvo. He's the kinda guy who replaces anxiety with anger -it's a defense mechanism." Sticks said, they noticed Forceps's piercing stare, "right! right, we're doing self-care. Uhh, I've got some filters I should replace, I think I can do these front ones just fine if you've got some replacement filters I can use." They patted the array of intake vents on their chestplate. "But my arms aren't long enough..." they stretched their arms to reach back around behind their wheels and touch a group of exhaust vents down the middle of their backplate, "to properly get these guys, so I'd appreciate help there. Otherwise I don't have anything else I'm worried about. Except-"   
Here they lean towards Forceps, looking them straight in the face, their optics shining with determined zeal, "You. It clearly irritates you when your processor quits and you can't communicate with someone. Communication is important even outside a sickroom- _ your words _ are important- and I don't want to miss them because I don't know how you're saying something. I want to learn your servo-language. I... don't know if you have the time to teach me the basics right now or would rather point me to someone who  _ does. _ Or even if you have some sorta datalog on it or something -I dunno. Point is I wanna start now."

 

Forceps huffed again, a loud noise through all their vents at once, and tried not to look quite as pissed. A deep vent, then another, and they started to move around to Sticks' back. "In the meantime, sit. Rest your leg. It may be worthwhile running your fans on high for a little while with all the filters out, let them blow out some of the-"    
Sticks' words caught up to them, and they stopped everything at once, servos stilling in midair. One blink, then another, sawlets quivering on their back, and they moved around in front of Sticks again. They... didn't exactly know how to respond to that. Aside from  _ yes _ . Not just the "I want to understand you" part, they were more focused on the  _ "your words are important" _ part. To a medic who'd spent a significant part of their working life being entirely disregarded in one way or another, that was everything. Optics gleaming, they set both servos on Sticks' forearm, fingertips click-clacking against the plating, then retrieved the extension cord and offered one end to Sticks as they plugged the other end into their shoulder again.    
When the link opened up, it was a bit deeper than before. Instead of a one-way line that gave only the sensory input Forceps presented, it gave just a trace of emotional feed, with an overlay of conscious thought. That way, Forceps could 'say' what they were signing, and Sticks would be able to hear it.    
The first sign, accompanied by a wave of  _ gratitude/triumph/appreciation _ both in their field and over the link, was a swooshy, repeated  _ "thank you" _ .(edited)

Then, in sharper, faster motions, plating clicking for emphasis,  _ "FUCKING thank you, finally" _ .

 

Sticks smiled as they felt Forceps's warm haze of emotions wash over them. They bounced their servos to the momentum of the gesture as the other bot signed. For a moment, they practiced the individual motions, trying them over-building them up- until they felt satisfied they could replicate it. "Now it's my turn," they vocalized, meeting Forceps's optics before looking down again at their own servos. Sticks repeated the motion slowly, pausing for a fraction of a second before each movement -completed with a hint of unsureness,  _ "thank you." _

 

Forceps, engine purring, pulsed wordless approval and made a soft patting motion at the air. From there, they began to sign, relatively slowly, not really expecting Sticks to copy it and just providing a translation.  _ "This is a language developed primarily by medics. It's a combination of several dialects, plus a few invented signs, modified to allow for unconventional servos. Much of it is used to communicate in loud situations, or discuss a patient in dire situations without the patient realizing. Usually seen among medics. Gradually spreading to the remaining population because it doesn't have any significant connections to any spoken dialect. Many, many translations of swear words, and multiple invented ones. I referred to your leader as a 'loose jackhammer' earlier. Don't sign that like this" _ a pause, repeating the sign another way, a quick motion horizontally instead of vertically  _ "or you're referring to someone as a jackhammer in a sexual context. One of them is more of a compliment than an insult. The other implies destructiveness and annoying volume. Start taking your filters out, they're probably filthy, we're going to burn those. I'll be surprised if they don't just melt into glass, all the silica. Keep them as trophies." _   
Making a quick motion with both servos that loosely translated to "blegh" and also served to remove any dirt and shake away the idea of filth, Forceps climbed up onto the berth behind Sticks and gently tapped at the entrances to their vents, requesting access.

 

Sticks shifted and turned at an odd angle, attempting to open up their back chassis through pressure. Unsuccessful, they tried the movement again, a bit rougher. No dice. They gave a disgruntled grumble before banging a fist against their back a few times. With one last violent strike, their back chassis opened up, bits of sand that had been caught in the crevice between plates flying out. "Augh sorry, that's not good," they sighed, "I promise I'm not like that all over. I guess that's just what happens when you seal up for so long."    
That done they turn back to their servos, repeatedly mimicking the jackhammer motions, a devious grin on their face, "massively excited by the prospect of being able to insult my friends in a different language."

 

_ "Agh- I have pry tools and suitable lubricant, if you'd give me half a nanoklik to mention it before smacking yourself apart!" _ Forceps complained, bapping Sticks gently over the helm with their forearm (their servos were too delicate to smack with), then sighed, lightly petting the abused latches.  _ "Almost inclined to get you in the shower again and open up everything that opens. Primus, is the rest of your team like this? Not looking forward to dealing with all that. Or this," _ they sighed, reluctant to put their fingertips against the grimy filters, but did it anyway. Nasty sensation or no, they had to treat their patient. Especially a patient they liked.    
Calming slightly at having something to do, Forceps removed the old filters as gently as they could, which wasn't terribly gentle. Wedged filters. Still, removing the filth was satisfying, and Sticks- heh. Sticks had a good idea there.  _ "They'll catch on eventually. The key is to occasionally use completely innocuous signs in an angry-looking way so they think it's swearing. Or... learn all the swears so you have a variety. Also good for talking about people without them knowing," _ they chuckled, clearly amused, and pulled another filter out. "Fortunately there's an industrial-grade air filter attached to this room. Whole medbay. Mostly for airborne infections, works on things like this."(edited)

 

Sticks began to open up their chestplate to get at their intake filters. With a little bit of prying, it popped open. They paused, another witty comment on their mind before deciding that possibly it was not a good idea to speak while changing filters on both sides. They kept their intake steady and gently grabbed a fistful of sand-filled filter from one side. Slowly they pulled it out, eyes widening in horror at just how nasty it was- between old energon, oil, and sand, the filter was well past serving its purpose. It barely even held its shape anymore, coming out in clumps. They gently put down the detritus in a pile on the berth, then started on the other side.  _ Could be worse, _ they thought,  _ the first time I've tried something and I'm not messing it up. _ They picked out a final handful of filter-mush with a surprise extra pebble and added it to the pile, which was now truly a sight to behold. Survey their heinous masterpiece with equal parts horror and pride, Sticks spotted something odd, something... squirming? Completely silent, with a stone cold face, they balled their servo into a tight fist and smashed the pile, shaking the berth.

 

Not bothering to hide the disgust filtering over the cable-link (it wasn't at Sticks, after all, just their filters), Forceps made a displeased face, pulling out another chunk of filter. When the berth shook, they paused, projecting  _?? _ , then resumed their work and pulled the last few hunks of filtering material out. Stacking them aside, Forceps pulled a gasket-sealed drawer out from under the berth, then shoved the filter material inside and shut it firmly to contain everything.    
With a quick COMM signal, a long, wide tube extended down from the ceiling, ending up just above the two bots, and Forceps leaned back slightly to avoid the impending dust. "I am shutting my audials off now, this is loud, I suggest you do the same," they warned, then activated- evidently it was essentially a giant vacuum cleaner with a grate over the end, meant to suck contaminants out of the air. In this case it was busy sucking the air from just above them.  _ "Run your vents as high as they'll go, kick out as much of that as you can. If your systems are as grimy as I think, we may need to flush your vents out with something other than your own systems, but for now we can try this." _

 

Sticks looked back to see where Forceps had put the other dirty filters, gathered up their pile, and put it on top, sincerely hoping it was out of the way enough not to get into the ship's air system when the circulation turned on. The thing they found could probably be dealt with later... _probably._ _One thing at a time._ they thought, trying to suppress other thoughts of, *that's _definitely_ not how those filters were supposed to look* and _Primus, I hope there's no more worms in there._ They startled with the noise of the vent above them, trying to quickly process what Forceps was saying before they discovered the unwelcome stowaway. _Right audials, vents, in that order_ they turned their intake on high, aggressively trying to dispel any potential worms or thoughts of worms in their system.

 

Just in case any of the energon was fresh, Forceps kept an optic on the debris that was blowing out of Sticks' vents. The vacuum above them did a good job of capturing all the dust and fine particulates, but the drone-vacs were going to be busy in here later. Lots of chunks of things that were a bit too heavy to be picked up by the-    
Forceps jolted and accidentally pulsed  _ alarm/revulsion/dismay _ very strongly over the cable link, and, without indicating what had alarmed them (though, really, it was obvious), abruptly unplugged, shuddered, hopped off the berth, and left the room in a very fast walk. Ew ew ew  _ EW _ .    
When they came back, they were hauling something with them that looked a bit like a vacuum cleaner, with a transparent tank full of solvent. Armor clamped in distress and vents shut tight against any foreign contaminants, they turned off the vacuum, ushered Sticks off the berth, pointed to a drain grate in the floor, and ushered-slash-prodded them over to stand on the grate before rather unceremoniously aiming the high-powered hose of the device at their back vents. That was going away  _ now _ . 

 

Sticks held onto the berth as Forceps hosed them down. They tried not to think about the prospect of  _ even more worms, _ and rather attempted to focus on how the problem was in the midst of being solved. Instead their brain clung to the idea of their friends, potentially carrying these creatures aboard. Sticks sputtered as Forceps turned the hose off. They took a second to collect themself before turning around, seething. They looked past Forceps to the door, behind which would be the rest of the Choir, somewhere. Their voice came out low, tinged with static, "I'm going to personally destroy every last sandworm on this ship if it is the last thing I do."    
Their optics flared in rage as they tried to stumble to the exit, the singular thought in their mind. Two steps out they fell to the floor, without missing a beat they addressed Forceps, "You think they all got their filters changed in their exams?"

 

Wait, no, no- Forceps' saws spun in minor alarm and they put themself between Sticks and the door, making gentle patting motions, and plugged back in. Too grossed out to speak.  _ "STOP moving before you hurt yourself. We aren't done. That is a machine designed to flush out your vents, I need to make sure those THINGS -anger/revulsion/concern- are thoroughly removed. We're also going to need to scope your vents and make sure they haven't done any damage. Do you know what those things are and if they are technically parasitic? Your team has likely not had their filters changed- we were mostly concerned with triage and getting everyone sorted out. They'll be coming back into the medbay soon for thorough decontamination. Running with NO filters would be a better option- the ship is clean enough. For now, we are focusing on you. I do not think your team is in immediate danger. May not tell them all what the problem is, better tell them one at a time while actively solving it, because this is DISGUSTING. Now. Sit. Tell me if anything in your ventilation system hurts. And hold still, this is a very strange sensation. I apologize in advance." _

This device wasn't just a hose. Forceps patted and nudged and shoved Sticks into a sitting position, back to the drain in the floor, then pulled a few spare hoses out of the machine and hooked them directly up to the intakes of Forceps' vents. Sitting down right next to their patient (but AWAY from their outlet vents), they leaned firmly on Sticks to hold them still, then turned the machine on. It was designed to pulse a strong flow of cold solvent through someone's ventilation system, more often to clean out chemical contaminants, and would likely work on the THINGS. Unless they were parasites.

 

Sticks held very still as the machine did its job. It didn't  _ hurt _ necessarily but the sensation of having liquid pumped through usually dry places was nauseating enough to take their mind off the fact they couldn't do much about the situation. They spent a few minutes collecting themself before they tried to speak again, "those  _ things _ are the smaller stages of sand worms. They're organic creatures that grow larger than most carrier ships and have teeth that can chew through rock. I can't imagine that's good for a frame." they paused, waiting for a wave of nausea to subside, "the larger ones  _ chased us. _ You know what it's like being chased by something taller than a combiner-  _ on sand? _ Forget factions,  _ those _ were the real enemies here."   
They quieted down for a moment, reigning in their thoughts again, "anyway, it's imperative that we destroy them before they grow too big."

 

Making an unpleasant expression, Forceps patted Sticks' shoulder for a moment, then detached the hoses and set the machine aside.  _ "We encounter enough organic creatures that the ship is outfitted to deal with them. Your crew haven't been cleared yet, so they're still in part of the containment area. The medbay air vents and drains are routed to another decontamination area for situations similar to this. We can contain everything- no need to worry. For now, I need to scope your vents and check for damage, assess whether the worms are any threat. Shut off your vents, please, to allow the scope in." _   
They'd also brought a small box, to which was attached a very long, narrow tube with a camera at the end. Once the vents were off, Forceps began to gently feed the tube in through one of Sticks' vent outlets, petting their upper back reassuringly the whole time. This didn't feel terribly good most of the time. It was necessary, though.  _ "Do you want access to the feed of this? I see... no more worms, at least. Scuffs and scrape marks. Scouring damage. Nothing of considerable interest yet." _ (edited)

 

Sticks sighed, "Intellectually I'd love to see this but I don't think I could handle it if you did spot a worm in there." They shuddered slightly but stopped almost immediately at the feeling of the camera clanging against their pipes. "All these nasty medic tools I never knew existed," they said through a wry grin, "a whole new world of uncomfortable devices ahead of me."    
Their expression turned wistful for a moment as they realized what they'd just said. There was a future, something to look forward to, a clearly- defined tomorrow. The future came with responsibilities that the present lacked. It required promises and thought, and a slow processing that those living in the present couldn't afford to spend time on. But now they had time, Sticks thought, they all had time. The yoke of the future may be heavy, but it promised a regular, plodding, step towards home.   
Sticks flinched again, thoroughly jarred out of their reverie, as the camera banged against them. "I imagine this camera thing is pretty useful, seems less invasive than the alternative at least."

 

_ "Mmn. Nasty. Agreed. Not sure I'd be able to do anything coherently if I had to deal with these in myself," _ Forceps commented, then, stroking Sticks' back a bit more firmly, worked the scope further in. "Whole new world of devices to introduce to your crew and assorted orifices. I am going to teach you how to use this, so you can help out with your teammates. Not difficult. Flushing apparatus, too. Now... hm. No worms, but... shard of something, here. Need to pull this out. So... need you to be very still. Going to hurt, but easier to just pull it out than try anything."    
Pressing up close against Sticks' side (without any concern, now that the worms were gone), Forceps hooked an arm around Sticks' midsection, holding their patient as still as possible as they extended a small grasper from the scope. There was a tiny shard of something sharp, and Forceps carefully grasped it, then flicked their wrist and tugged sharply on the scope. It caught against everything, but the shard came free, and Forceps retracted the graspers back into the scope to hide the shard. Still squeezing them tightly to offer some level of comfort, they slowly reeled the scope back out, then held up the end and extended the graspers to show the needle of shrapnel. "You see? Now- your systems are freed of worms. What would be the best way to bring your teammates in here, say, one or two at a time, to clean the rest of them out,  _ without _ panicking anyone or leaving them all aware of the  _ infestation _ ? I am concerned that, if told of the situation but left alone, they will... attempt to take drastic measures to get their systems clean. They are in no danger, I can promise that. Your systems are scuffed and marked up, but you have no... burrow marks. Nothing your self-repair cannot handle."

 

Sticks glared at the tiny shard, giving it an angry flick with their finger, and finally turned their intake back on. "Well, they all trust me, so I believe if we do them one at a time, I could frame it as my 'first checkup on the job', or something equally as saccharine, they won't catch onto what's actually going on. Or at the very least they shouldn't panic. Most won't quite trust you yet -emphasis on the yet- so if you let me do the talking it should run pretty smoothly.That being said, Draft needs it straight and can handle it, he's pretty practical and very good at spotting a farce. Bowline meanwhile... well, she likes to frame it that empurata's made her more resistant to emotions but you can... imagine what happened there," Sticks paused, dispelling the deep seated outrage that bubbled up inside them, "I think she'll like you, she's got a soft spot for caring types."   
Sticks extended a servo in Forceps's direction to ask for assistance up, "We have to be careful around Salvo, as you probably expect. I'm not sure if news of worms in his system will cause him to go over the edge, but he dissociates when he gets too stressed. I do not believe that'd be much of a problem if we got there, but he's developed a technique to delay the process that turns his stress into anger..." they cocked their head, "...hence why he came bursting in here."

 

"Hm, well, we should likely-"    
One of the worst reflexes for a medic was to jerk  _ back _ when startled while working with a patient. Jerking back was great when something moved fast towards their servos, but jerking back with a patient risked yanking on something important. As a result, when Forceps was startled out of medic-mode, they froze. Completely. As they did now, one servo reached towards Sticks, looking completely baffled. After a moment, they blinked a couple of times and offered Sticks a tiny, tentative smile.  _ "I don't recall... ever being called 'caring'. Don't spread that around." _   
Another couple of blinks, then they drew themself up and took Sticks' servo, trying to look confident. "Your- your crew. Tell them we need them in here one at a time for decontamination. Salvo- we should do him first. I'll demonstrate the scope for you. That way we can prove we aren't hurting anyone, and, if he panics, we can stash him somewhere to calm down. Who of the others would be best for you to try this on? Need someone relatively tolerant of discomfort. The empuratee- she was sedated heavily to repair the torn patch. If she has no objections, I'd advise practicing on her, she's probably still mostly numb and unlikely to be awake enough to be terribly upset by any discomfort. We have good sedatives. Could use some on anyone who'd do better with those. Somehow I doubt the suspicious one will put up with that. Back on the berth, call him in. I'll get more solvent."

 

"Augh, I might need to go get him. He tends to disable his comms a to prevent people messing with him in his alt mode -he's a gun, you see- but never remembers to turn them back on. Usually we stick close enough together so that we don't need them," they drew a finger across their chin as Forceps helped them back on the berth, "or- alternatively, I could call Draft, he could probably convince Salvo to come over here -though there's no telling he won't come here himself too."  
Putting a finger to their audial, they sighed, "can't go get them myself, Spade would probably flip if they saw my leg." Their optics flickered as they established the comm, _"Draft buddy -yeah i'm alright also wow you need to get your transponders checked this link is slag, anyway there's a bit of a situation -it's fine- there's a bit of a situation and we need to see everyone -don't say anything yet okay let me finish- we need to see everyone but we don't want to cause alarm, can you tell Salvo to come find me? He knows where I am... yes, 'we' I'm working with one of the medics on the ship. And before you ask, they're trustworthy... I'll... I'll tell you what's wrong when it's your turn but only because I think you can handle it. Until then keep em calm. Hopefully after this we'll all be let out of quarantine- you can tell em that... alright."_   
Sticks put down their servo, "Salvo's coming, prepare yourself."

 

Forceps nodded once, sending two COMM channel codes along the line- one for themself, one for the medbay at large. Muttering  _ "difficult task" _ , they unplugged the cable, putting it away, and left the room for a moment. When they came back, they set another tub of solvent next to the device, plus an empty bucket, then tried to look not pissed for their patient to arrive. It didn't work terribly well. They were still somewhat unhappy with Salvo in general. Despite that, they managed to look professional, if annoyed.    
When Salvo came in, they dipped their helm just slightly in greeting, then immediately pointed to the floor over the drain. "Judging by the state of Sticks' frame, your filters are clogged beyond usefulness and your ventilation system needs to be thoroughly flushed out. Stand over that drain, and" another signal to pull the vent tube out of the ceiling again and put it over Salvo "start taking out the old filters that you can reach. Let me know what you can't. Everything goes in the bucket, then we vac the air away, then we flush your system.    
To Sticks, they COMMed, without giving any signs of it,  _.:Do we tell him about the worms now, or hope he doesn't notice?:. _

 

Sticks looked to Forceps for a split second  _.:No, not yet. We might scrape by without him even seeing one, doesn't have frontal vents:. _ they put on a grin and hopped off the berth, balancing on their good leg.   
"Sticks, buddy, you alright" Salvo said, he walked closer to Sticks and held out his arms, bending down for a hug. Sticks complied, putting on a brave face knowing what their friend was likely carrying. Salvo began to straighten up, lifting Sticks off the ground.   
"Put me down Salvo." they said, the hint of warning in their voice causing the other bot to comply, "This is Forceps, they know what they're doing, go on." They made a 'get to it' gesture with their servos.   
Salvo cocked his head a bit and strode like a peacock towards the drain in the floor. He made a concerted show of trying to reach around to his back in various creative ways. Sticks frowned and hopped up onto the berth. They sent a kick squarely to Salvo's behind, "quit being a jackass and sit down, I'll do it."   
The force of the kick caused Salvo to lose his balance. He tipped backwards and fell into a sitting position within Sticks's reach. Sticks, meanwhile shoved their fingers in a groove in Salvo's backplate. "Come on, open up," Sticks said curtly.   
" _ My _ we're pushy," Salvo crooned, twisting to open up his backplate. Unlike Sticks's before him, it opened up fairly easily.    
"Shush or I'll put a rock in here," Sticks said. They reached a servo in and undid the filter apparatus. They looked to Forceps as they shoved their arm down the vent and grabbed. _.:Moment of truth...:. _ They pulled out a large clump of filter material, writhing with worms. Their face went steely as they reached down to drop it into the bucket, violently shaking their servo to get rid of any stragglers.

 

_.:Oh, lovely, he's considerably worse off. I wonder if the energon in your filter media was poisoning them?:. _ Forceps questioned, focusing on curiosity to avoid disgust, and stayed well out of Salvo's reach at first. They circled around to stand at his side, watching Sticks, but there wasn't anything to comment on here. This wasn't even a medical procedure, not really, anyone with small enough servos could manage it easily enough. Now, to distract Salvo. "Your team needs decontamination, and this is part of it. Some of you may have to do without filter media for a little while, but the ship is clean enough for that to be safe. You should all have showered, this is the next step.You've been isolated long enough that, if any of you had a virus, you would have been showing symptoms by now. I'll be running an energon test on Sticks, since, as the medic, they'd have been exposed to anything you all might have been carrying, but I doubt the results will show anything. None of you seem to be suffering from anything that fuel and self-repair won't fix, aside from potential shrapnel or particulate contamination. Once you're cleared, you'll have full range of most of the ship, excluding private quarters -without invitation- and particularly sensitive areas like the engine room. You'll have to speak to a captain for clarification on rules, but they can be summarized as 'don't be an aft to anyone'."

Field withdrawn and pulsing nothing but  _ I-am-medic/be-calm _ , they stepped slightly closer, still at Salvo's side where he could see them, still wary in case they needed to get back out of the way. "After your vents are cleared of the old filter media, we'll be using that" a quick helm jerk towards the machine "to rinse everything out, then I'm going to show Sticks how to use a vent scope to check for internal damage. Barring anything that needs treatment, you can leave after that. None of this should hurt, but having cold solvent flushed through one's vents is a strange sensation, and the scope tends to be uncomfortable. Any complaints?"

  
  


Salvo donned a suspicious grin, "none whatsoever, doc." He shifted his position, leaning his arm back close enough to push the bucket just as Sticks pulled out another heaping servo-full of worms and filter. With a quick flick, Sticks bent down and righted the bucket before its contents spilled onto the medbay floor. They let out a quick sigh of relief and deposited their catch.    
"Hey rust-nuts, tell me before you move, you almost spilled the bucket!" Sticks shot.   
"Oh yeah sorry about that," Salvo began to look back at Sticks but was stopped by another (gentler) kick to the face.   
"Trust me when I say you don't want to see this," they said, a hint of disgust in their voice, "Anyway why don't you ever call  _ me _ doc, huh?"   
Salvo laughed, "I dunno you never seemed to comfortable doing a medic's work, I figured it'd sound facetious."   
"I was never comfortable because the stakes were high I had barely a clue what to do," they said, frowning as they reached deep down into Salvo's final vent.    
Salvo was silent. He reached a servo back over his head, making sure it wasn't in Sticks's way. Sticks picked out a final clump of filter. They leaned forward to survey the vents.  _.:They look clean enough now, the  solvent flush should get the stray bits of sand out of there:. _ When they leaned back they saw Salvo's gesture. They extended their servo to meet his after shaking it clean over the bucket. His grasp was gentle, trained not to hurt his friend's tiny fingers.

"Do you want me to call you 'doc?'" Salvo said, his voice took on a tenderness that Forceps never expected they'd witness, "I mean here you are, working for the real deal, doesn't that make you the same?"   
Sticks smiled and placed their other servo on Salvo's helm, "I don't know yet. I guess for now, 'Sticks' will do just fine."   
Salvo gave Sticks's servo a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "Promise me you won't end up like ol' stiff-saws here," he said looking Forceps directly in the optics and resuming his recalcitrant tone.   
Behind his back, Sticks did the jackhammer sign,  _.:He'll warm up to you eventually, don't worry:. _

 

Forceps had been called far worse than that and didn't even acknowledge the supposed insult. Despite the urge to point out that a non-stiff saw was useless. Not sure what to do with the Emotions, they went with totally ignoring them in favor of 'adjusting' the machine, then stepped a bit closer and moved the bucket out of the way. But, oh- it was a bit tricky to hide their expression, both of amusement and something like pride, at Sticks' gesture.  _.:I don't need him to warm up, I just need him to not panic. And THAT is how we use those gestures. Excellent stress relief:. _   
Armor fluffed slightly in order to be extremely obvious and also fend off a potential blow, Forceps hauled the machine closer and lightly set a servo on Salvo's back, then plugged two hoses in high up on his frame. "Hold still. We need to flush your system clean of any contaminants. At least you have less energon in your vents than Sticks. Hold still, try not to stiffen too much," they requested, and turned on the machine. "Hence the drain. Sticks- pick up that scoping device, feel out the controls. I'll demonstrate its use first, but you may as well figure out how it works. This is an extremely simple procedure here- doesn't even require a medic. You" aimed down at Salvo "any problems?"

 

Salvo shifted slightly more upright with the feeling of the solvent in his system. He turned his head back to Sticks, optics wide, "this... doesn't feel good."   
Sticks put down the scope they were messing with, "yeah it's not that comfortable isn't it-"   
They saw solvent begin to spray out around where one of the hoses was inserted, "Forceps turn it off!" they said out loud. Sticks reached down and yanked the hose out. Solvent flowed out of the intake vent tinged with fresh energon. They looked nervously at Forceps.  _.:What should we do? It seems like a blockage but that energon's not good:. _   
"Somethin wrong?" Salvo said. There was a hint of pain in his voice he couldn't quite hide.   
Sticks didn't miss a beat, "you just broke the machine you slag, you shove rocks in your chassis again?"   
"Not since last time," Salvo put on a brave grin.   
"Just sit still we'll fix this." Sticks gave their friend a reassuring pat on the back.  _.:We can't tell him what's going on, it'd make it worse:. _

 

Forceps moved to turn the machine off at the same time Sticks pulled the hose out, optics narrowed slightly, but kept their voice calm. "Congratulations, you've managed to demonstrate one of the occasions where this is _not_ a simple procedure. Probably a blockage. Evidently I'll be demonstrating this scope a bit sooner than I intended. Easy," they signed, petting his shoulder, and crouched to get a better look at one of the vents. "You might get to try out some painkillers for what I'd imagine is the first time in awhile."   
_.:Either a blockage, scar tissue that tore, or... one of those worms grew big enough to cause damage. We'll find out which one soon enough. Try to keep him calm. It shouldn't be any concern... at worst we'll have to put him under and open him up to get it out, but that's relatively minor surgery. Critical as the system is to proper functioning, vents aren't in and of themselves terribly important. He'll be fine:._   
Picking up the scope, Forceps knelt behind Salvo and watched the vents for a moment longer, locating the one with the most energon flow, then tapped the end of the scope against his back in warning before beginning to insert it. "This isn't a terribly difficult instrument to use, but it does take some practice. It's flexible enough that usually all you have to do is feed it in, but when you need it to go around a corner, like here, you have to pause, curl the end with the controls, feed it around the corner, and straighten it again. I may find some pipes somewhere for you to practice on if you need. It gets a bit more difficult when, like this, there's a bit of energon flow in the way. This can indicate either a blockage with a sharp part somewhere, or an area of scarring across a vent that tore. First thing we can do about it is... find what it is," they explained, tilting the scope readout for Sticks to watch. "Nothing so far."

 

"Get ready buddy this is even worse than the solvent," Sticks said, "hold still or you'll feel it."   
Their optics were glued to the screen as Forceps fed the scope in. Eventually they spotted the blockage - a fist-sized clump of coagulated energon, sand, and something else, obscured by the sand-energon mixture. The blockage had a small hole in the middle that would have let air get through, though not enough. At the edges, uncovered likely from the pressure of the solvent, was a crack that spanned half the circumference of the pipe, and the bright glow of energon that seeped through it.    
Sticks pointed to the crack on the monitor  _.:That looks like a stress fracture. Bowline gets those all the time, but never in ventilation pipes. I wonder if the lack of proper flow somehow caused it:. _   
As Forceps snaked the scope further in, the two began to see the outline of the extra thing in the blockage, its mouth pincers were unmistakable -definitely a worm, and a large one at that. It curled around the circumference of the pipe, unmoving.    
Sticks looked away from the monitor in disgust, "Ohhh Primus."   
"What's wrong?" Salvo said.   
"Why didn't you tell me one of your exhaust valves was blocked?" Sticks cried, "You must've known something was wrong! It's cracked and you're leaking!  _ Internal leaking Salvo, does that sound healthy to you? _ "   
"You were dealing with Bowline at the time! And then it went away!" Salvo sounded defensive, he began heating up, "How would I know it would come back."   
"They always come back! You didn't think to tell me?"   
"You're one to talk!" Salvo jerked upward and turned to face Sticks on the berth, pointing an accusatory finger.   
Sticks couldn't find a response, their optics flared from fear. They couldn't keep their emotions in line and now their friend was leaking energon onto the floor with a medical device dangling out of him, getting angry enough to risk overheating with his internal fans turned off.

 

FORCEPS had, in fact, seen worse. Barely, but they'd seen worse, and that was all that kept them from reacting similarly. They could practically  _ feel _ Salvo heating up, but that wasn't their concern right now. Their primary concern was Sticks, and the fear in their optics. Saws beginning to whir in warning, but not extending the blades yet, Forceps put themself very firmly between their patient and their new assistant. "Back off! You arkkk-"    
Their vocalizer tried to shut down, their processor attempting to shift into fight mode, and Forceps redirected themself as fast as possible. "-you are overheating, and you are behaving in a threatening manner towards my assistant, neither of which I appreciate! Now- you are going to  _ calm down _ , and then you are going to get on the berth and we are going to get that out of you, but we are going to have to sedate you for that. So" a quick motion with one servo, and a large syringe appeared seemingly out of nowhere, Forceps taking a step closer to Salvo to get his attention firmly on them. "-either you calm down, you get on the berth  _ when I tell you _ , and we calmly sedate you to fix that before you bleed into all your vent branches,  _ or _ I tranquilize you. Which would you prefer?"(edited)

Odd as it might seem for someone their size, Forceps was deliberately trying to focus Salvo on them, and that included taking the brunt of any physical aggression. They could handle it- block or duck any blows and get the needle in a line before any major damage happened. They knew for a fact they could handle a potential attack, but they had no idea what Sticks could handle. Armor flared, saws up and spinning (still bladeless, this was posturing, not a true threat), they took one more step, ending right up close to Salvo. Yes, it might rile him up further, but they could fix him getting riled up further. Backing down too much and ending up with Sticks injured was harder to fix. Field unfurling and pulsing  _ MEDIC/calm/settle/back-off/MEDIC _ , they put every bit of command into their voice that they could manage, actually standing on tip-pede to look a bit taller. "Back. Away."

  
  


"This has NOTHING to do with you" Salvo yelled at Forceps. He turned back to see Sticks standing on the berth, now at optic-level. Without breaking line-of-sight they commed Forceps,  _.:Tranq him the first chance you get, I don't know if he's going to be able to calm down quick enough to avoid overheating. And... he won't hurt me. I'm sure:. _   
"I'm sorry I kept it from you, Salvo and I forgive you for keeping that from me. But holding out won't help anymore. It won't help me, and it  _ definitely _ won't help you." Sticks said, "Putting on a brave face and walking it off doesn't work when you have to think about tomorrow."    
"I..." Salvo rocked on his feet, more drops of energon splashed on the floor.   
"You're overheating, we can deal with everything everyone's been hiding now, it's gonna be alright. But..." Sticks paused, taking a page from Forceps's book, "right now we're gonna focus on you."

 

Forceps started to snap back something about this absolutely involving them, but resisted the urge, instead doing- basically the opposite of what they'd been doing before. Lowering their plating and withdrawing their field, they lowered their saws and ducked around Salvo's side, trying their best to be less noticeable. They couldn't miss- it would mean they wouldn't get a second shot without serious effort. A few nanokliks of sizing their target up, then they ducked their helm and darted in, the needle finding a thick energon line in Salvo's side. In a flash, Forceps injected the sedative, then leapt back out of reach and flared their saws again- a challenge. Get Salvo's attention on them, stay out of reach, and count... 3, 2, 1, and-   
Dart in, keep Salvo from hitting the floor at full speed, and huff up at Sticks. "Come on- help me get this aft on the berth, this is going to be surgery. We'll have to get him open. Which means you'll get scope practice after all, while he's unconscious. Come on now- I can't lift this pest," they muttered, pedes spread slightly, not able to lift Salvo on their own. Barely. If it had been an emergency and they'd had a rush of adrenaline, sure.    
Once Salvo was on the berth, Forceps sighed and shoved him onto his side, pulling the straps up again to hold him still. "Congratulations. You get to observe a surgery. Albeit a strange one."

 

Sticks sighed, placing a servo on their friend's side. Salvo would need some time to get used to just being able to live, that's for sure. They'd all have trouble adjusting to this. Sticks wondered who else was hiding something from them. They supposed they'd find out soon enough.    
"He's an idiot, but I guess he wasn't wrong." they said, giving the sleeping Salvo a little slap.   
They turned to Forceps, "First off, nice move there. Not sure what woulda happened if he realized what you were doing. Second," their face turned a little sheepish, "May I... borrow a crutch? I'd like to be able to move around during this."

 

" _ Sit _ ," Forceps declared, pointing at the edge of the berth, and subspaced the syringe before going over to a cabinet on the wall. After a moment of quiet noises, they returned with a crutch and another bucket, and handed both to Sticks. "If you feel nauseous watching this, do  _ not _ vomit in our patient. Vomit literally anywhere else. On me would be unpleasant but preferable to in an open wound. Because that... is not removable with a scope," they declared, looking vaguely nauseated themself, then paused and opened a wrist compartment all the way. Inside were two large syringes and an empty slot for one, both the same as what they'd used on Salvo. "I keep tranquilizers available. Spring-loaded so I can get one into my servo immediately. Useful. Three is enough to down just about anyone."    
Sawlets up but no longer looking aggressive, Forceps marched across the room to scrub their servos clean at a sink, then came back over and sat on the edge of the berth to get a better angle. Nimble fingers sliding under the edge of his plating, they found the latches and opened them, setting the armor aside, then pulled a spreader similar to a human rib-spreader (albeit smaller) from subspace and used it to crank aside the muscle cables covering the vent. The flexible piping bulged unpleasantly in one spot, and Forceps sighed quietly, extending a laser scalpel from their fingertip, before putting a tiny hole in the vent pipe a short distance from the bulge. "Best not to start directly over the  _ obstruction _ ... don't want to pop that thing. We start a short distance away, lift the edge of the cut, and, like this, cut with the blade angled away from the center... until we've uncovered the problem," they explained, doing just that.

Once the worm was exposed, Forceps watched it for half a klik, then immediately (though not without a thoroughly unpleasant expression) put their palm over the incision. The worm had started to squirm away from the light. "....lovely. It's photosensitive. Which means... it's probably going to escape if we bother it with too much light. Do you know if these have any sort of... defensive mechanism? Anything acidic, toxic, or-" a full-body shudder as the worm writhed against their palm "-nngh, otherwise troublesome? We... may have to... remove that entire section of vent to be sure the worm doesn't... escape into anywhere, now please do think fast!"

  
  


"Watch out for their mouth-bits they've got horrible... teeth, otherwise they don't have any surprises." Sticks said, matter-of-factly, focusing intently on the presence of the worm. Their mind had resumed its single-track thought from before of  _ it must be destroyed. _ They held the bucket near them but didn't feel the slightest need to use it, "best method of attack, I believe, is either lancet or tweezers if you want to save it -which i suggest you don't, if it is not dead when it leaves my sight I will kill it. Something sharp and most importantly hooked should do the job. But again, keep your fingers back."   
They hopped off the berth and used their newfound mobility to move to the cabinets. "Let me know what and where your tool of choice is and I'll bring it to you."

 

"Don't want it. Top left shelf, label nearby says 'rarely used', thick rod with a cap on the end. Take the cap off, give it to me handle-first, do not touch the tip or the button on the side. Spring-loaded Scraplet dispatcher for embedded parasites. Get it over here, now, now,  _ now _ -" Forceps hissed, armor clamping down even tighter, grabbing at the air with their free servo.    
The moment the tool was in their servo, they took their palm off the  _ thing _ , planted the end of the seemingly innocuous rod against the worm, and flicked the button. A short, barbed spear shot out the end and impaled the worm, and Forceps pulled the thing out, dropping it -tool and all- into the bucket that held all the other worms. Fingers curled in clear distress, Forceps marched across the room, sawlets up high, and scrubbed their servos for several moments to get rid of the sensation-echo, shaking their helm the whole time.

Once they could no longer feel the thing squirming against their palm, they marched back over, muttering something about "troubles of sensitive servos", and carefully slid a servo around the vent pipe. Pulling the edge of the cut aside with their thumb, they indicated the clot for a moment, glancing up at Sticks. "Vent pipes aren't as flexible as veins, but move enough for this. Scrape the blockage out, seal the vent back up, no problems. Don't need to tell him what that was. Won't do anything but disgust him. Leave the worm in the bucket- whole thing is going in an acid bath, I'll get the tool back out once that's dissolved off," they explained, pulling a flat, narrow scraping tool from subspace. "Can't let you touch this, those bandages can't be cleaned properly, but... have a look," they muttered, beginning to scrape the clot free of the vent wall, intently focused on what they were doing. "No... major damage. Sealant, patch, fix that easily."

August 22, 2018

 

Sticks stood close to Forceps. They leaned over on a safe-to-touch part of Salvo's body and watched what the other medic did -the subtle flicks of their fingers, how delicately they handled the afflicted pipes. Now able to watch Forceps work on someone through their own eyes, they couldn't help but be awed by their professionalism, their  _ knowledge. _ They supposed it helped that their patient was thoroughly unconscious and the offending parasite had been taken care of. They were losing focus again.    
"That's good to know. " they smiled in relief after an almost-too-long silence, "You think it'd be worth it to flush him again once it's healed?"

 

"Oh,  _ all _ of you are getting repeat flushings in a day or so, just to be sure," Forceps declared, and, carefully, lifted the clot out. Sliding their other servo out of Salvo's innards, they produced a small tray and set the clot on it, prodding at it with the pry tool. "Hm. This is caked with something else... I suspect the worm secreted something to bind this together. Presumably it isn't parasitic, or they wouldn't be able to multiply without Cybertronian hosts. My guess is, it would normally do this in rock crevices somewhere, but found itself a warmer habitat in your leader here. Disgusting, but relatively harmless," they sighed, setting the clot aside, and began to apply sealant to the bleeding gouges in the inside of the pipe. "Vent pipes have large veins in the lining along some areas, which can be filled with energon to help cool said energon. They can bleed rather profusely if damage is caused while the frame is overheating. Alarming to see, but not terribly dangerous. A coating of sealant will stop the bleeding, and then... we close the vent up."    
The sealant took effect, and Forceps carefully aligned the cut edges of the vent, then did something complicated with both servos that stretched a sealant-coated patch over the cut. A few moments of firm pressure with one palm, then they carefully took their servos away, and nothing happened. Humming in satisfaction, they removed the spreader, then retrieved the end of the scope and held onto it just long enough to get it past the damaged area. "Here. He won't feel this, you may as well practice. We do need to check for other injuries. Or more worms."

 

Sticks took the scope and began feeding it further into the vent, hesitantly at first, but rapidly getting the hang of it. Pushing past the now-fixed blockage, the monitor showed more sand, broken off-bits of coagulated energon, and the odd pebble or two. "Just looks dirty luckily." they said, coming to a tricky bend. Here they stopped and floundered a bit before remembering the device had a way to turn itself. They carefully turned the head, threaded it in more, straightened it out and continued, just as Forceps had demonstrated earlier.    
Soon enough the scope came out the end of the other vent, with nothing more interesting popping up than a stone that, if you got it at just the right angle kinda looked like Megatron's head.    
"No more worms, looks like," Sticks said, letting the monitor rest in their lap. They turned to Forceps with a proud smile, "how'd I do?"

 

"He'll have to put up with the dirt for a while longer, unfortunately, we can't continue flushing his systems until that sealant is fully set and the wounds begin to heal," Forceps provided, watching the monitor, field pulsing background  _ approval/encouragement _ meant to gently spur them on without actively being something that would draw their attention.   
When Sticks was done, they offered their new apprentice a fraction of a smile, moving to lightly bump their forearm against his upper arm in a servo-free congratulation. "Not badly. Now... see if you can get it out slowly. Yanking it out too fast is uncomfortable and can cause abrasions. While you're doing that, I'm going to... contain the worms, and you should call in whoever will come next. For this one, if we put him out in the main medbay until he wakes up, how do you think he would respond? We could also keep him in the corner in here, but that would mean everyone else who comes in here is going to see him and want to know what's going on. Or there's another private room he could go in, but, again- responses vary." 

 

Sticks began gently reeling in the scope. Even going slow they had a hard time keeping it from touching the vent walls and had to pause every so often to get it in the right position. "Now that's... a good question," they said, somewhat distracted by their task, "Draft will want to see him but if I call him in next... well..." They paused to navigate around a sharp bend, "let's just say that aside from Bowline he's the only one with any actual reason, Spade and Burner might rile each other up -will rile each other up."   
Sticks sighed as they pulled the scope the rest of the way out and set it delicately down on the berth. They hobbled their way over to the end where Salvo's head rested, putting a tender servo on his helm. "It's just tricky because whoever I call in next might cause the others to panic -too many bots gone. We've learned that splitting up is a bad idea. As for Salvo, you think we can put him next to Bowline outside? I think if he wakes up next to someone he knows he'll be less likely to flip. Which begs the question- how long does this sedative last?"

 

"Well- if we can convince them not to tell each other what's going on, we could bring them all into the medbay, just not into here," Forceps suggested, collecting the scope, and paused to prod Salvo's flank. "Should be out for... I'd say ten minutes more, deep, then past that it depends on his response to gaining awareness. I imagine he'll snap awake, but... hard to tell," they declared, unlocking the wheels on the berth, and began to roll Salvo out of the room. "Your choice who to call in next. We can show them these two, prove no one's- hm, no, this isn't much proof, what with them being unconscious, but at least they look relatively intact.  _ You _ certainly look much better.

A scan of Salvo's frame, then Forceps aligned his berth with Bowline's and undid the straps over his frame, looking down at and scanning Bowline as he did. "Are you awake? Congratulations, you get company. Your leader is a hot-helmed one," they declared, setting a servo gently on Bowline's chassis, trying to get a good look at her and her frame. She should be awake by now- they'd had to sedate her for the patch repair, but not too deeply.

 

Bowline's single optic flickered on, glowing a sunny yellow. She groggily turned to face Forceps and brought a giant servo to rest gently near theirs, "You are not the one who I was speaking with before, what's your name?" Bowline's frame was an assortment of different parts-asymmetrical mismatched armor, not consistent even down her arms. Her chassis was the only thing that seemed to be original, an assortment of rounded shapes colored dull teal.    
Sticks was checking over Salvo when they heard her voice, "Bowline! You're awake!" They almost tripped over their crutch trying to get to her berth and punctuated their arrival with a gentle pat on her head, "feeling better?"   
"I understand I no longer leak," she turned to survey Salvo, "Is he okay?"   
"Salvo will wake up soon, sore, probably, but better than before." Sticks said. They tapped Forceps on the shoulder, "What if we did her first? If everything goes smoothly, Salvo will miss all the nasty bits and will be able to talk with her once he's up, should give us more options where it concerns the others."

  
  


Forceps evidently didn't appreciate being tapped- one of their saws flicked in Sticks' direction, clearly an unhappy gesture, but didn't extend the blades. A small warning, nothing more. No sign of ire. They were focused on Bowline anyway. "I am Forceps. You... have not been treating yourself well. I could see the mess of your innards from across the room when my colleagues were working on you. All of you have horrendously clogged filters and filthy ventilation systems. We need to fix that. I..." a pause, Forceps clearly thinking, then they sighed and shook their helm slightly. "I would much prefer we take you to the other room for this, to reduce contamination of the main medbay. Also we have fewer drains in here. We should be able to get... at least most of this over with before Salvo wakes up. Your size may cause some minor troubles for us... you may have to assist us by propping yourself up. And..."    
Another moment's consideration, then Forceps sighed, gently petting Bowline's chassis plating in case it helped any. "I should warn you, since you will likely see for yourself... the local sandworm larvae evidently think clogged vents are a good place to live. They are harmless, but alarming. No need to be worried, you are in no danger. The procedure is simple- we get you up on your side to get the old filters out, then- given the state of your internals, we should probably scope your vents  _ first _ to check for scar tissue. After that, assuming nothing needs to be rectified, we'll flush your systems with solvent to remove everything else."(edited)

  
  


Bowline lay silent for a bit, processing what Forceps said, "It is nice to meet you, Forceps. Let's get this over with, shall we?"    
"You think you'll be okay to turn over?" Sticks asked, positioning themself on the other side of the berth, in preparation to help wheel it to the other room.   
"I could walk now if I knew it wouldn't undo the patch," Bowline said, she looked Forceps in the optics, "I'm unsure if Sticks or the other medbay staff has informed you but my Empurata has left me without most feeling. I will need either of your assurances that things have sufficiently healed before I do anything that would potentially harm myself."   
"I suppose we just have to watch for leaks," Sticks chimed in, "I think even you should feel better after this, there's nothing good about being fulla sand and worms."   
Bowline turned to Sticks, "right." There seemed to be a glint of something in her eye, as if she were smiling.

 

"You are  _ staying there _ ," Forceps declared, and unlocked the wheels on the berth, voice soft as they wheeled her back into the private room. "I was told, yes. Do you have any objections to medical procedures? This will be somewhat uncomfortable, but should not hurt. If anything is likely to hurt, I have sedatives available. We... may need to equip you with a self-scanner of some variety to register further injury," they commented, pulling the door shut behind them, and latched it shut. Which still left the gap at the edge, but... oh well. At least they'd be able to hear if Salvo woke up.    
Servos gentle, they nudged and helped Bowline onto her side, then brought the machine and yet another bucket over. Aware that empuratees tended to be wary (at best) of medical equipment, they lifted the flushing machine up to show it to her, just in case. "Essentially a vacuum cleaner in reverse. A strange sensation, but not inherently painful. We also have" a pause to swap devices "the vent scope. Depending on your sensory level and the state of your vents, Sticks may get some practice with this on you. There is a camera at the tip, which is its primary use, and a small grasper to remove stubborn foreign contaminants. I will warn you in advance of everything I intend to do. First, I need to remove the armor over your back vents and pull out the old filters," they explained softly, and began to do just that, removing the armor and then placing a servo against one of the vents. "May I?"    
If she was fine with everything, Forceps would go back to their usual methods. If not... gentle was good. Forceps could be gentle when it was needed.

  
  


"Thanks, Forceps, advance warning will be good. Begin when you will. I'm ready," Bowline said. Her voice modulated very little, though not to say it was monotone. It held a subtle but purposeful lilt that gave each sentence momentum and a definite end.    
Sticks stayed in front of her, ready to assist Forceps at any moment, but unable to shake the need to fill her in on what she missed, "you shoulda seen the size of the worm we pulled outta Salvo. You'd think he was growing it in there or something."   
"Keeping it as a snack," Bowline responded quietly after a moment of silence.   
Sticks couldn't keep in an ugly cackle, "well that'd turn things around wouldn't it. Don't tell him though I think he'd flip." They saw Forceps take off the outer vent plating and hobbled over behind them. "I can get the filters again if you'd rather keep your servos worm-free," they offered.

 

"Mmh, thank you," Forceps muttered, looking considerably relieved, and went back to stroking Bowline's shoulder. "The texture seems to bother you less than it does me. Please. I will happily trade you a thorough scrubbing afterward to remove any sensory-memory. And we'll swap out that mesh for something cleaner."    
Distractions were a good idea with potentially antsy patients, so Forceps kept speaking softly, petting her upper arm as a point of contact. "Thank you for not being ridiculous. You'd be shocked how many of my patients insist they're fine with everything, trying to look tough, and then end up panicking. It's difficult to look tough when crammed into a corner of the medbay in the fetal position.    
Once the dirty filters were gone, Forceps moved to sit on the berth right behind Bowline, lightly nudging the end of the scope against one vent. "I'm going to scope your vents now. Just relax... tell me if anything hurts or if you need to stop. Also, tell me how much of this you can feel. Forceps- would you place your servos on her shoulder or somewhere similar?"    
_.:Empuratees are often unusually afraid of medics. It's understandable- the surgery is extremely traumatic, even if performed properly and with anesthesia. Which it usually isn't. Even when they seem to be doing all right, it's best to go slowly, give forewarning, and offer a point of friendly contact. Autobot butcher-medics don't pet their patients' shoulders for reassurance. Keeps things from sliding too much into being like the initial trauma. And, whenever possible, you do not use restraints of any sort. If restraints aren't avoidable, you make sure someone is there with them when they wake up:. _

 

_.:Duly noted. She's never been particularly afraid of me, though I suppose it's because I'm far from looking the part. I'll keep an optic on her:. _ Sticks made their way over  and sat up on the berth next to her, leaning on her shoulder.    
Bowline turned her head slightly to acknowledge their presence, "Sticks, do you think we'll hear Salvo sing again?"   
Sticks straightened up, surprised by the question. They pulled themself up over Bowline's shoulder to see her optic turned towards them.   
"I'm not sure, I hope so, though," Sticks said, "I'd like to see Draft smile again."   
"He's got a beautiful voice..." Bowline trailed off.   
Sticks's optics flashed,  _.:Forceps stop what you're doing. That's a sign:. _   
They hopped off the berth with such energy their crutch fell to the floor. Half-pulling half-crawling their way over to the other side, they put their servo in one of Bowline's, who responded by laying her other gently on top.   
"You didn't finish your sentence, what are you feeling?" Sticks said, their voice devoid of their previous candor.   
She lay quietly for a few moments, "...unease."   
"Pain?"   
"No."   
Sticks thought quietly for a moment,  _.:Is there any way we can dim the lights in this room? I don't know if it'd be a good idea to put her under again:. _

 

_.:Likely not a good plan. Normally I'd offer sedatives for an uneasy patient, but not one with medical-related trauma. Give me a moment:. _   
Forceps stayed completely still for a few moments, then slowly set the scope's readout down, letting go of it. "I can't quickly withdraw that from your vents, not comfortably. Relax. I'm going to dim the lights as low as I can work in," they hummed, and quietly moved over to a panel on the wall, lowering the room lights until they could just barely see what they were doing. Walking back over, they stayed in front of Bowline for a few moments more, humming softly and trying their best to look like they weren't a threat. "It's all right. I apologize if this is uncomfortable for you. Do you think you can tell me what upsets you? It's all right to be uncomfortable... people are, sometimes, with this. Instinctive unease about the sensation. It's very strange, isn't it? I... may not be able to help you any more with this, I'm afraid. Not so good with words in a lot of situations. But... if you tell me what the problem is, I can help with that. Now... I am going to stand behind you again, but I will not pick up the scope again until you are ready. We can wait."    
At least they had examples for this. They'd heard mentors talking nervous patients through things like this. Well, frankly- they were more or less reciting sentences from memory. If it worked, that would do it. "Or... hm. Is there someone" a quick glance towards Sticks, clearly directing this partially towards them "who would be comfortable serving as an example? Do you think it might help at all if you were able to watch all of this on someone else? They probably won't look terribly comfortable, but it won't harm them."

 

"Give me... a moment..." Bowline said. She gave Sticks's servo a gentle squeeze.   
"It's gonna be alright," Sticks murmured. They reached their other servo and pretended to examine the plating on her arm, making certain to touch the sensitive joints in the armor, "you remember the time we were up until dawn after that raid? I managed to finish your arm in time to watch the sun rise with you."   
"It's... gonna be alright..." she repeated Sticks's words, almost dazed, "It will be alright."   
"We're missing the pile of limbs, huh?" Sticks said, "and the sun. But good riddance to that anyway."   
"You were named after the river then," Bowline's voice was beginning to regain its timbre, "I'm glad nobody sees you like that anymore."   
Sticks was quiet for a moment, "me too..."   
Bowline lay silently for a minute, whether she was reminiscing or collecting herself it was hard to say, her optic revealed nothing.   
"Thank you Forceps, I believe we can continue." Bowline finally spoke, setting Sticks's servo free.   
"Would you want that demonstration?" Sticks said, shakily standing up and pointing a finger at one of their vents, "I'd be fine sitting for it again and it's not often you get that kinda view."   
"No, thank you. I don't need visual confirmation to know you're good inside," Bowline said, her optic glowed warm, "I do not see you, Forceps but I trust you as well."

 

Forceps, at a loss for what else to do, fidgeted awkwardly while Feelings were happening. Awkwardly, but silently, staying out of the way and out of sight. What else were they supposed to do? They'd just... stay back here and pretend to clean their servos. And mutter something awkward about "ah- thank you" at the- compliment? Yes, that was a compliment. A rather sweet one.   
Once they were given permission, they stroked Bowline's arm for a moment or two, then began to move the scope again. "The good news here is I see nothing that should require anything other than a thorough flushing. That, I hope, won't be any problem for you. It's strange, but feels nothing like a medical implement."    
The scope showed nothing of particular note, so Forceps slowly and carefully withdrew it, setting it aside. "All right. You're fine. Now, if you could just move to the edge of the berth to let this drain properly... we'll get everything over with. Try to relax."    
A few gentle strokes to her back, then they fastened the hoses in place, slowly activating the machine. "This should be quick. Are you all right with it? Ah- well, most people aren't all right, but is this something you can put up with for a few moments more?"

  
  


"I will be fine," Bowline said, "tell me when I am where you need me to be."   
Pushing herself up on one forearm, she shifted backwards. Sticks pulled themself over to the other side of the berth and gave her arm a light tap when she got close to the edge.    
"Don't want you to fall off, now," Sticks said, bending down to retrieve their crutch from the floor now that they were close enough.   
Bowline lowered herself down again, careful to keep her balance and not fall over onto the two bots behind her.    
After the solvent at last ran out clean, Sticks helped Forceps undo the hoses.  _.:That went about as well as it could have, I think:. _   
"Salvo is awake," Bowline declared, "I can hear him speaking in verse."   
Sure enough, a groggy, syncopated mumbling floated in from the crack in the doorway.    
Sticks sighed, "I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad sign."

 

Quietly glad that their patient had not panicked, Forceps arranged Bowline a bit more comfortably, including tossing a thick blanket over her, before moving her back out to the main room. "Ah, you are definitely awake. And somewhat musical. Somewhat."    
Scalpel had noticed Salvo being awake, and was currently staring at him from across the room, annoyed but electing not to approach him. She was too sharp-edged, from long audial fins and ice-blue optics to digitigrade legs ending in two powerful claws, every inch of her the color of a sharpened blade. The glare of "why are you singing" was not a terribly big help. "...mind reminding me who that is over there and why he's acting like this?"    
"Had to sedate him," Forceps sighed, and scanned Salvo from a relatively safe distance. "Terribly sorry, you were about to overheat or hurt someone. Potentially yourself. Are you relatively conscious? Additionally, are you terribly angry?"

 

Salvo stopped in the middle of a verse and let out a grunt. He sat up, putting a servo to his helm, "feel like slag."   
"That's cause you are slag," Sticks said, making their way over to where Scalpel and Forceps stood. In a sudden spurt of good practice they had stayed back to wash their servos before re-entering the medbay.    
"Slag is as slag does," Bowline chimed in from her berth.   
Salvo laughed loudly and moved to sit next to her, "now that just doesn't make any sense."   
Sticks looked to Scalpel, put on a winning smile, and extended a servo, "The name's Sticks, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What may I call you?"

 

"We had to remove"  _ something disgusting _ "an obstruction from your ventilation systems. You'll need a proper rinse once the sealant I used has set properly. And  _ that _ feeling is what happens when I have to tranquilize someone with the fast drugs instead of the nicer slow-acting ones," Forceps groused, albeit very quietly on that last part, and glanced slightly over towards Sticks.  _.:Meet Scalpel. She's less ferocious than she looks. Most of the time, at least. I like her. THe round one is Patches. I'm still not sure about him, he is far too nice to be genuine, but he's been acting like that for months now. Either he's an amazing actor, he has some outlet I'm not aware of, or he's about to snap and start screaming. Scalpel claims she's known him most of her life and he's just like that. I'm still dubious. The one with the orange audials is Acus. Be gentle with him and don't ask about his scars. People have been thoroughly horrible to him, and Scalpel is therefore very protective:. _   
"Yer gonna get some weird replies if you ask everyone that," Scalpel commented, then took Sticks' servo, albeit carefully and with her fingertips. "Scalpel. Possibly in charge here. Depends on who you ask. You should change those bandages as soon as you're done with this. That's Acus behin- ah, nope, he's gone, where- ah, he's in the cabinet again. Go meet him."(edited)

Acus was, indeed, in a cabinet. A large cabinet lined with a few pillows and several blankets, and containing one small mech. Acus was a soft grey just a shade or two away from dead-mech grey, which was, fortunately, helped by the bright orange highlights to his plating, along the edges of his winglets, and on his audials. He was a bit of a cutie. Aside from the aforementioned scars- multiple abrasions and rub marks around his neck and throat, and far more gash scars than a medic really should have been wearing. No wonder Scalpel was protective. He was busy repairing something that was taken apart a bit too much to easily identifiable, and it took him a moment to notice that Sticks was there. "I- oh! Ah, hello. Acus. Excuse the... cabinet... thing. I like it in here."

Patches walked out of another room with a heap of blankets so large he couldn't really see anything past them, and only seemed to realize that problem in the middle of the medbay. His winglets perked and swiveled in an effort to find out where he was, and he ended up walking into the berth that Bowline was on. "Whoops," he squeaked, giggling, and set the blankets down on the edge of the berth. "Oh- hello. Would you like another blanket or three, sweet? I've just finished washing all these. A couple of 'em are electric! How's your core temp?"

  
  


Sticks nodded at Scalpel, "Alright, boss! I hope I can make myself useful here." Following Scalpel's indication, they confidently waddled over to the cabinet. Once there they propped their crutch against the nearest vertical surface and knelt down.   
They couldn't help but be somewhat shocked by the bot's appearance,  _ Forceps wasn't wrong about those scars, huh. _ They kept their glance quick and put on their best smile. "Looks like you got yourself a pretty good hideout here," they said, examining the cushioned walls, "I'm Sticks. They just gave me a job so now I guess we're coworkers. I'm normally one for servo-shakes -supposed to make a good impression- but I've been told they're too nasty in this state." They gave a short wave instead, "besides it looks like you've got something else to keep your servos busy. What... is it exactly?"   
\--   
Bowline cocked her head at the round bot, "I believe I am fine at the moment, thank you. If I were not otherwise indisposed I would offer to help you."   
Salvo stopped in the middle of his mumbled, metered, monologue to lean onto Bowline's side upon spotting Patches. "You! You tried to stop me from seeing Sticks," his tone was accusing but not angry, "I can appreciate your moxie but don't treat me like a threat to Sticks again."   
"Was he being threatening?" Bowline asked Patches. Behind her Salvo withered.

 

_.:By the way, if Acus likes you, he'll be one of our examples for how to treat old scars. He'll probably like you. Just be nonthreatening and don't grab him, and... try not to treat him like a sparkling. Some people do. Go with normal, but quiet and without touching, and as few suggestive jokes as possible:. _   
"Medics can be a bit iffy about servo shakes, you- you'll probably notice, if you haven't already. Having, uh, as many, if not more sensors in one's servos than in one's, ah, interface equipment tends to have that effect," Acus explained softly, and held up a portion of the structure. "Transformation cog. The hardware, at least- the sliding portions. Someone needs a new one, and we didn't have an intact one, so... this is made of several others. The veins are easy enough to wire in, but the structures need to be put together first. It's rather like a puzzle, except instead of taking it apart or displaying it, you put it inside someone. I'd... hand a piece to you, but... not with those filthy bandages."    
Acus sat up a bit straighter, squinted at Sticks, and donned a pair of round glasses that tipped the scales from pitiful-cute to definitely-cute, evidently not able to see them terribly well without help. "My goodness. You look half-starved. Are- are you all right? What happened? The rest of the group- dear Primus, I hadn't put these on before, hadn't seen- you look as though you've been standing in the path of a blast sander."

\--   
Patches turned to look at him, lowered his winglets in mild apology, and sighed, somehow looking both apologetic and minorly irritated. "He was, yes. Usually, when people pry open the door of a treatment room, someone is in danger. And, unless Sticks has something very sneaky about them, I am considerably more durable than they are. You see... there's been a very, very long war. I've lost a lot of patients. I've had a lot of patients shot right next to me. When someone who's behaving aggressively comes near me and a patient, I shield that patient. If I shield someone and there's no need, the worst that happens is someone gets upset. If I don't shield someone and there  _ is _ a need, the worst that happens is my patient dies. So... I do apologize for misunderstanding your intent, but I do  _ not _ apologize for being protective to someone who -no offense, Sticks- looks like that. People who are half-starved and lightweight need shields."

  
  


_.:Got it. Definitely looks like he's been through a lot:. _   
Sticks cleared their throat, "ah yes, well I think it's kind of inevitable when you spend so long on a sand-planet. I don't know what the factions were thinking sending us there - haven't had a paintjob since I left Cybertron. It's uhh, looks pretty bad huh." They instinctually looked down at their frame, now that they thought about it, their general disarray was definitely out of place amongst the rest of the medic crew. They supposed now was the time to start caring about appearances. "But that's neither here nor there." they said, " _ you can build a transformation cog??? _ " Sticks's excitement was genuine, they leaned slightly into the cabinet, "I never knew you could just  _ do that. _  Primus, that would have saved so much time! You know how hard it is to find an intact t-cog when all the bodies around are sand-logged?"   
\--   
Salvo frowned, then sighed, unable to really find anything to say in his defense.    
"It was for the best anyway, Salvo," Bowline said as she took a servo from underneath her blanket and placed it gently on Patches's shoulder, making sure not to disrupt his blanket pile, "You are right, they do need shields. This is my job, normally. Thank you for protecting my friend in my stead."   
"Sorry I broke your door," Salvo mumbled, slinking back down behind Bowline.

 

Acus looked vaguely nervous for an instant, winglets lowering, but didn't try to retreat. "It-it's, ah... well, yes, it is possible to build a transformation cog. Any- any organ can be built or grown, with the right equipment. This is... about 80% scavenged parts, however. Multiple T-cogs of the same approximate size spliced together. To make a T-cog entirely of- of inactive metal, one would have to suspend it for a significant amount of time in a solution to allow it to fill with circuitry, to, essentially, turn it into a living organ. Starting out with what used to be living metal takes a considerably longer time. We've... visited a few old battlegrounds to scavenge parts. Things that are harder to grow, or that we don't have any way to make at the moment."    
The little medic had a tray in his lap, with all the parts spread across it, and he set his piece down to pick up a few more. "These swiveling pieces, here- these are for a grounder-frame. T-cogs with especially large components are generally from grounders, that provides the leverage to help move heavier body parts."    
Looking slightly concerned again, Acus looked Sticks' frame up and down, especially their servos. "You're going to need a repaint. That isn't healthy. Too much room for foreign nanites to take hold. And what- the bandages, how- that can't have been accidental, no one  _ accidentally _ -" he began, starting to lean out, then hesitated again and glanced away. "...never mind. I'm- I'm sure Forceps already saw to... whatever. Apologies."

\--   
"Eh- we can fix it. If you want to apologize, you can help Crucible fix the door," Patches shrugged, and turned his helm enough to bump his cheek into Bowline's servos. "You're very welcome. You'll like Bracer, I think, he's my build but nearly twice my height. But- he can't do this!" he chuckled, ducking his helm slightly, and twitched his arms in a way that somehow brought his shoulder plating up. The two sections clamped together around his helm in a smooth dome, clicking together to entirely cover his helm and neck, and he stayed like that for a moment before putting his armor back. "You should let someone else take turns being a shield for a little while, sweetie, let your internals heal. I don't know if you saw me earlier, but I was the one doing most of the re-patch work in your innards. You have a lot of scarring!" he commented softly, taking her servo in both of his, and gently patted the back of her servo. "You can rest now. People are safe here. The only occasional threats are pirates, please do not try to use yourself as a shield against a pirate ship. Now- do you have any taste receptors anywhere? I have some candies that you're welcome to, and Primus knows you need the nutrients."


	2. Chapter 2

Sticks looked away and sat down on the floor outside the cabinet, putting their servos down in their lap, palms up. The bandages were now stained from worm remnants and beginning to fall off. Unsurprisingly Acus seemed to have more tact than his coworker about these matters, but the bandages will always beg the question. "Appreciated," they sighed, "anyway, you'll have to show me more sometime! This process of growing and building organs is fascinating stuff. And," they began to perk up again, "I may not be a good medic but scavenging for parts is arguably what I do best, you think you could put a good word in for me the next time you need to go on a trip?"   
They turned back to Acus, optics bright, wearing a small smile.   
\--   
"That is a useful skill you have. I saw you earlier, yes, thank you for aiding me. I'm afraid we never got properly introduced. I am Bowline, no longer shield." Bowline said as she brought her servo back to lay on top of the blanket.   
Salvo inched himself back up on top of Bowline's shoulder, "...did you say candies?"   
"They will likely be wasted on me as I am without much sense. Salvo, on the other servo, is more eager than he'd admit." she turned her head to Salvo, optic piercing, "However, I do not believe his behavior warrants a reward of this sort."   
"You wound me Bowline, truly, " Salvo said. He draped both arms and half his frame over her for dramatic emphasis.

  
  


With a final mutter of "you  _ really _ should change those soon", Acus picked up the core of the organ and began to carefully slide another piece into place. "T-cogs have very few actual joints, the parts need to be free to slide. You should meet Avalon- probably will. He's an utterly fascinating case of something called Adaptus' Curse. It's thought to be a potential evolutionary precursor to us. His frame is  _ too _ complex, every surface lined with transformation seams, but with solid struts, and his cog is too specialized to controlling his surface to give him an alt. If you can manage to get his trust. He's.. suspicious," Acus provided, squirming back up to sit upright, and pushed the door open slightly further. "You are welcome to come, though I can't say when that will be. Whenever we find a good scavenging ground that no one much objects to us landing on. We've... managed to get a few organic species convinced that we aren't a threat, and some members of another couple rather like us. Opens up some exploration areas that Cybertronians as a species largely avoid due to too much opposition."    
\--   
"Hm, no, it has not," Patches declared, and hauled himself up to sit on the edge of Bowline's berth. It creaked a bit at his added weight- he was evidently rather densely built. "I'm Patches. I'm the senior medic here. Whether or not I'm in charge depends on who you ask. I also make candies, interface toys, and things that sorta cross the line between those. And I've ended up as the local 'sex ed for repressed Autobots' teacher, somehow," he commented, reaching into subspace, and pulled out a small box. Withdrawing a couple of rust sticks, he held them up, though out of Salvo's reach, and aimed a stern glare at him. "Are you going to try to figure out what's going on in any given situation here  _ before _ you get angry?"

  
  


"Huh," Sticks said, shifting their seat, "I wonder how that first conversation went, something like 'Hi we're the scary non-organic race the Galactic Council told you to worry about, please don't hate us we just want to scavenge our dead for spare parts.' -speaking of first impressions..." they trailed off with a chuckle. "I wonder if the sandworms knew enough to be able to communicate- with bodies that big they  _ had _ to have some thoughts, right? Though, I suppose any sort of  diplomatic relationship was shot the second we all landed there." They paused,  _ I'm getting distracted again, aren't I. _ They followed up their thought with a comm ping to Forceps,  _.:is it time to call in the rest of the crew?:. _   
\--   
Salvo groaned, "I'll... try. I can't promise anything but I'll try. If Draft can do it so can I, right?" He looked away, finally the shame of having overreacted  _ again _ began to sink in.   
Bowline could hear the hint of heaviness in Salvo's voice, "Sex ed for repressed Autobots, you say?" her optic glowed a little brighter, "You might just have an ideal customer."   
Salvo jolted behind her.   
"However, evidence has shown that he is possibly not repressed enough." One of Bowline's secret talents was, evidently, her uncanny ability to control a conversation for the benefit -or detriment- of those around her. She turned her placid, unwavering optic in Salvo's direction.

 

"More like 'hello, people whose ship we found floating in space, please stop screaming long enough for us to explain'," Acus sighed, then perked his winglets in alarm and quickly tossed a cloth over his project- just in time to stop it from flying everywhere as he sneezed. Squeakily. Winglets shooting up straight and flickering against the cushion behind them. "-oh- excuse me. You- I believe you were working on, ah- something to do with... whatever that is on your servos. Did- did I distract you?"    
_.:I'd say so, yes. Acus seems to like you, I'd say, the cabinet door is still open. He's not the boldest one:. _   
\--   
"That's all I'm asking, is that you try," Patches hummed, and offered Salvo two of the rust sticks. "I can make more. For now, enjoy th- oh! Goodness. Well, not to worry, dear, I'm entirely willing to talk!" he chuckled, gently petting Bowline's chassis with one slightly absent-minded servo. "I've had to talk to people about really, really  _ minor _ kinks, things like light bondage and spanking. Silly Functionalist ideals about no interface acts that aren't strictly for reproductive purposes. Anyone else on your team who might do well with some good advice? And/or some nice toys? I can share those and the candy. Also, since I assume there hasn't been much of this, please convince your team that physical affection is healthy and good for you, and long-term lack of it is distinctly unhealthy. Snuggling is good. Also interface! That counts. Be affectionate with each other! Or with people here who'd like affection and/or interface!" he chirped, winglets up, field purring  _ friendliness/comfort/warmth _ . "That goes for you too. Even if you can't feel much. Speaking of which... I can't promise miracles, or, really, much of anything without more data, but... would you like me to try and improve your current... state... a bit? At the least, I can probably upgrade your sensory suite."

 

"quick reflexes," Sticks, impressed, mumbled to themself, "ah, well I just came to say hello! I'm sure you'll catch wind of the wormy filters debacle soon enough. Some more of my friends will be coming in to deal with the aforementioned issue. It was nice chatting, Acus!" They shakily pushed themself up to standing and grabbed their crutch. A thought occurred to them. They absentmindedly tapped a finger on the cabinet and leaned down to address Acus one last time, "I should warn you they're a pretty rowdy bunch when together, even though they mean well."    
Forewarning supplied, Sticks walked back over to Forceps, a triumphant look on their face.  _.:Excellent. At least my 'first impressions' skills haven't been dulled by the sand. I'll call in Draft. Burner and Spade will come with him for sure:. _   
They put a finger to their audial as before, "Draft -wow this static really is unpleasant- could you bring yourself and the rest on over to the medbay? Bowline's up and- yes Salvo's here, he's up too-" they paused, "he hung up on me. Get your comms upgraded, slag."   
\--   
Salvo took the two rust sticks and bit at them absentmindedly, pretending to ignore Bowline's jab.   
"The two bots in question seem to be attuned to their proclivities quite well. I would say, however, they could use some training on basic safety, considering their questionable decisions regarding environments covered in sand." Bowline said. She didn't need to incline her head again to get her point across.   
Salvo bit a rust stick in half, making an audible  _ snap. _   
"As for me, " Bowline continued, "I have resigned myself to the fact there is not much to be done for my case. I greatly appreciate the offer, Patches. If you think you may have something you can do, I would be honored to receive such treatment."

A polite knock came from one of the medbay doors- the one nearest the quarantine area. Sticks stood up straighter, "Here they come..." The first to enter through the door was a heavy-built purple bot with orange and black accents. Draft surveyed the room, giving Sticks a nod before walking over to where Salvo sat with Bowline and Patches.  _.:That's Draft, remember when you were saying earlier how baffled you were Patches doesn't explode in anger? He does. Don't push him:. _ Past Draft walked in a bot clad in shades of green, her shapely plating seemed to be in the best condition of the whole Choir. Upon seeing Bowline, she ran to the berth, a huge smile on her face.  _.:Burner. Compliment her and you'll be her best friend:. _ Finally a grey-and-blue bot about the same height as Sticks filed in. The two exchanged waves before the newly-entered bot joined the others near Bowline's berth.  _.:And Spade, they uhh... make things:. _

  
  


_.:Noted:. _   
Forceps, sawlets up and armor lifted in a professional manner, marched over to the three new patients with their servos behind their back. "I am Forceps. The three of you have horrifically clogged vents, and we need to run all of you through a quick decontamination procedure. One at a time. Nothing complex, just removing the old filters and flushing your vents. We'll do a second cleaning and replace the filters in a few days. Who's first?"    
\--   
Patches made a thoroughly uncomfy face at just the thought, shifting as though something was terribly uncomfortable, and shook his helm slightly. "Ergh," he muttered, then twisted and spoke to the medbay at large, now that the whole crew was there. "By the way- anyone who has gotten sand in their interface equipment should remove that  _ now _ . That's what the waist-height showerheads with the hoses are for, those have suitable settings to do that comfortably. Please, please do not keep sand anywhere on or in your frame. Foreign contaminants can have long-term negative consequences. Just... get cleaned up, please," he sighed, then, being vaguely forward, leaned some of his weight on the side of Bowline's chassis. "Here- let me just do this. I assume you can feel my weight, at least. Again, I can't make any promises, not without seeing what you have, and we  _ are _ a bit undersupplied to make complex new components... but I can try. At the least, I can ease any chronic pain you have, and I may be able to wire a few more sensors into your frame. it depends on if the problem is a lack of sensors or a lack of processor space to interpret those sensors. Your helm would be a lot harder to replace. I may be able to wire some taste sensors into your intake at least, if you'd like that." 

 

Draft sighed, "I would volunteer if I didn't have an important conversation to have." He gave a stern face to Salvo, "Burner why don't you go first."   
"I assure you there is not a single dirty spot on this frame," Burner said, striding forward to Forceps.   
"I assure  _ you _ that there is," Sticks pointed an accusatory finger then curled it up in a 'come here' motion. Burner complied, following the two into the back room.   
"That's rather personal information to give out, Salvo," Draft said, walking up behind him to put a servo on his shoulder.   
_ Tch _ Salvo clucked, half a rust stick still in his mouth, "Not that I divulged but that's a different matter."   
"Well, is the problem fixed?" Draft asked, his voice too calm for someone spending a few seconds of dramatic tension to slowly cross his arms.   
Salvo groaned, hopped off the berth, and pointed himself in the direction Patches had specified earlier. His steps were still uneasy as the sedative's final claws had not yet withdrawn.    
"That was a bit cruel Bowline," Draft said, once Salvo was out of hearing range.   
Bowline looked away from what Patches was doing, "He had another outburst. I decided to change the conversation once it seemed to affect him too much. I suggest you talk to him as his reactions are ill-suited to civilized life. Additionally, I felt it important to point you to someone who may prevent future lapses in judgement."

 

Here Bowline turned back to Patches, "I do feel you, yes, but barely. I have learned today of a wariness within myself towards medical situations. In the spirit of self-preservation, the status quo is fine as it is. However." She was silent for a moment, " However, I think I would like feeling in my servos again, if you believe it possible."

 

"All right. May I see your servos, my dear?" Patches asked, holding out one of his in a gentle request. "I'd like to run a scan, maybe two. Nothing invasive at all. If you're nervous, that's entirely understandable, but there are things I can do to help. A lot of minor procedures can be done somewhere that looks nothing like a medbay, and, if it helps any, I can sedate you or completely numb an area. I'd really like to give you some sensors in the rest of your frame, at least a few more pressure sensors... I'm worried you're going to hurt yourself, badly, without realizing. I understand your nervousness, though. So... we can start with your servos. If you still don't feel up to anything else after awhile, I'm at  _ least _ going to rig you a scanner so you can check yourself for major damage. Pain exists for a reason, my dear!" he sighed, doing his very best to look soft and unthreatening.  "I won't push. I won't make you do anything you don't want to. It's your frame. I'm just going to... very strongly recommend that you consider a scanner or some other nerve additions at some point in the future."    
\--   
"Nobody's clean everywhere after  _ that _ slag," Scalpel commented, having been out in the sand momentarily, winglets slicked back in annoyance.  "Prob'ly get sand up your valve without ever opening the plating. Everyone needs a good scrubbing,  _ everywhere _ . Slaggin' sand. After that- medbay, shower, quarantine area, everything gets scrubbed, but you lot get to go an' look around. Nobody punch anybody!" she ordered, stalking over to Acus' cabinet, then crouched to open it and offer him a small energon cube. "You- drink up," she whispered, her soft voice a massive contrast to the rest of her frame, then stood and looked back at the rest. "The rest of you- check yer fuel levels. Who needs energon?"

 

Bowline lay quietly for a while, thinking on Patches's words. "The road ahead presents opportunities both unexpected and intimidating in the face of what came before. I will consider your offer, Patches," she held her servo out for him to examine, "One step at a time."   
At the sound of Scalpel's loud proclamation, Salvo appeared, haphazardly striding from the shower area, servos on his hip plates, "I like the way the lady talks! Hit me with that fuel."   
"Me as well," Draft said, holding up a servo as Salvo made his way over. They sat down next to each other on Salvo's empty berth.    
Bowline held up her other servo, as did Spade, who was fiddling with something unidentifiable in their servos from their seat on the floor.    
  
Energon was distributed throughout the rowdy but starved five. Eventually Burner was released, at last clean of sandworms and none the wiser to her previous condition. Draft followed, then finally Spade. In the interim the medbay filled with laughter, raunchy jokes, and lighthearted roasting as the bots became more accustomed to their surroundings and to each other.

 

Patches gently examined Bowline's servos for a little while, making occasional optimistic comments, and saved a few scans before moving to check on the rest of the crew. He couldn't promise anything in particular, but he'd do his best, and he was definitely positive about making some progress.   
Scalpel waited for the chatter to die down a fraction, then hopped up onto the edge of an unoccupied berth to get their attention. "Oi! Introductions. I'm Scalpel, the cheerful one is Patches. Tha's Forceps over there. They don't-slash-can't talk outside of medical situations. Leave that alone, no pokin' them about it. That's Acus in the cabinet. He's easily overwhelmed an' a bit shy. Do  _ not _ mess with him. Watch out fer the cleanin' drones, someone's gotta scrub this floor," she warned, hopping down from the berth, and went to release several of what were basically Cybertronian roombas from a cabinet. "Don't step on 'em. We got their li'l memories backed up, but still."    
(I figure Cybertronian drones, as in true drones, are about as intelligent as small animals. Basic AI by Cybertronian terms.)

\--   
Forceps, as soon as their work was done, hooked an arm through Sticks' arm to haul them over to the shower without anyone's servos being touched. Sawlets up in agitation once again, they focused on their own servos for a few minutes, scrubbing furiously to remove the phantom sensations of Unpleasantness, then gave their whole frame a quick rinse before turning to Sticks. Sticks didn't seem to mind being gently mechhandled by them, so they caught Sticks again, unwound the filthy bandages, and gave their servos a thorough, if rather quick, cleaning with a soft brush. Not as careful as before, they hadn't been doing anything that would get grit in so  _ deep _ , but all those fluids had to come off.    
The act of cleaning, both themself and another, seemed to relax them. As they re-wrapped Sticks' servos, their frame was relaxed, sawlets settled, optics dimmed just a fraction in focus and calm. A pause, lightly stroking the covered back of Sticks' servo with almost a dazed expression, then they swayed on their pedes a fraction and met Sticks' optics. They looked tired. They  _ were _ tired. They'd been about to go to sleep before all this. Helm cocked slightly, they considered Sticks and COMMed them at the same time. Three words, and three only.  _.:Want a drink?:. _

 

_.:I've wanted a drink for so long Forceps you couldn't even imagine:. _ Sticks looked back at them with a mixture of tiredness and confidence. The day had been one of the most eventful of their life but in a way that inspired hope instead of despair. They put their other servo gently on top of their new friend's.    
"You look tired" they said aloud, giving Forceps a look up and down. They hadn't missed the signs, Forceps had performed admirably but couldn't quite hide their occasional trailing sentence or thousand-mile-stare, "If you had not suggested the single thing that I'd wanted most at this very second, I would say you should sleep. But I'm a greedy bastard." they thought for a moment and offered their free elbow, "I may be operating at less than capacity but feel free to lean on me if you need."   
Switching to comms so as not to tip off the others,  _.:Point the way to the booze, friend:. _

  
  


_.:Ship doesn't have an official bar. Place with the most drinks of any sort is probably full of people having a mea-:. _ Forceps' tired processor skidded to a halt at being called "friend", but they gladly hooked an arm through Sticks', shaking their helm to try and refocus.  _.:I have booze. Good stuff. Tastes nice. Fewer people than going anywhere public. I'm not going anywhere public. Come on:. _   
Through one of the doors lining the medbay walls was a small room that resembled a storage room, except for the fact that each wall had a door in it between the shelves of supplies. Forceps, made more stubborn than usual by tiredness, led Sticks through a door and locked it behind them both, then marched over to their berth and flopped on it. Their room wasn't much, but it worked for them- a soft berth a few sizes larger than they really needed, a cabinet above the berth, a little workbench, and, most interestingly, a large but clearly damaged-beyond-repair, formerly-arm-mounted cannon hung on one wall. Ignoring everything else, Forceps laid facedown for a klik or two, sawlets relaxed, then sat up and opened the cabinet. Carefully, evidently not really wanting to show off the contents, they withdrew a bottle -an actual bottle, not a typical cube- and two glasses, then shut the cabinet and carefully balanced the glasses on their leg to fill them before offering Sticks one.    
The energon wasn't made to be quite as strong as some liked. It would get someone drunk, but would take a few glasses. Deeper in color than typical, it almost sparkled against the dim light, thick and energy-rich, and it tasted just slightly sweet. Forceps wordlessly (as usual) raised their glass to Sticks, then took a long sip of energon, leaning back against the wall the berth was against. They'd padded the wall, too, for the comfort of their sawlets.

August 26, 2018

  
  


Sticks raised their glass in kind. They had to stop themself from barbarically downing the whole thing in one go, opting instead for a sip requiring laser focus. They shook a bit as it hit them, unearthing the taste-memory of an inebriating beverage. A deep sigh escaped from their chassis as they savored the taste. Wordlessly they kissed their fingers in delight before hobbling over to lean an elbow on the wall next to Forceps's berth. "Have I cleared enough safety protocols to sit on your berth or... is this seat taken?" they took another sip, this one considerably heftier than the last, "oh and-" [Thank You] they signed, careful not to spill the contents of their glass. They'd be damned if they'd let that knowledge leak from their memory so soon.

 

_.:You're physically clean enough, and I doubt you have a virus at this point, so sit down before you fall over or sprain something:. _ Forceps ordered, and offered a small, genuinely pleased smile at the sign.  _.:Get over here. I run cold:. _ they declared, and, as soon as Sticks had sat down, leaned against their side. Forceps didn't exactly weigh much. A long, slow blink, then another, then they snuggled down slightly and pulled a blanket up over both their laps. They knew from experience that this glass, sipped slowly, would give them a small buzz. So... they'd sit here, purr their soft little purr, lean against Sticks, and let their field hum quiet  _ happiness/satisfaction/contentment _ . Sticks was nice, they were warm, and they were enjoying the other's pleasure. The other medics were no good to drink with- Scalpel got loud, Patches was too giggly, and Acus wouldn't touch anything near high-grade due to evidently not reacting well to it. Sticks- Sticks seemed to be planning to get at least somewhat drunk. Hopefully they weren't too loud.

  
  


Sticks froze for a moment when Forceps leaned on them as they began to process the situation -warmth, quiet, safety, and a new companion who trusted them enough to get close. Their first instinctual thought was an icy wave of existential guilt- the "Something is wrong" feeling, the "I shouldn't be here" feeling. Their face contorted at the long-forgotten pain. Frowning, they raised their glass to the light. For a moment they looked through the bubbling energon before downing the rest in a single draft to tide themself through the duration of the feeling. Bringing the cup down to berth-level, they heaved a long sigh. It was not a feeling so easily banished. The drink began to take effect as the feeling faded away. Or perhaps it was the other way around? Sticks couldn't tell and didn't particularly care. Meanwhile exhaustion began to creep up on them. They slowly leaned back against Forceps and let out a tired laugh, "Primus I got lucky."

 

Ah, Pit. Emotions. Complicated ones. Forceps, not sure what to do, leaned a bit more firmly against Sticks and waited out most of the emotions. Lightly shaking the bottle to get their attention, the small medic refilled Sticks' glass, then reached away, set the bottle aside on a little table, and immediately leaned back on Sticks. Patting Sticks' knee through the blanket, they hauled the cloth up a bit further and tucked it around them both, snuggling shamelessly against Sticks. Medics, even Decepticon medics, were a practical lot. Contact was good.   
Field a quiet mix of  _ contentment/reassurance/comfort _ , they tucked their helm against Sticks' shoulder, at a loss for what to do aside from being a comforting presence and offering booze. A small nod in response, then they lightly tapped Sticks' arm and mimed putting an arm around them, trying to ask if it would be all right for them to get even closer. They were warm, but they wanted more warmth, and Sticks- Sticks probably needed more comfort. Attention was good. Sticks' negative emotions probably needed to be chased away.

 

Sticks nodded and leaned closer as Forceps put an arm around them. They took another sip. A heady buzz starting to set in, they fixed their optics on the cannon. So proudly displayed, yet clearly unusable-so not some kind of weapon rack. They let out a soft giggle imagining the tiny medic trying to carry that beast into battle. It occurred to them they knew next to nothing about the bot sitting next to them. A Decepticon medic with a serious grudge against Functionism and an almost-impassible air of professionalism. At first they'd thought the latter a quality of all medics, but seeing Scalpel and Patches's casual natures they could only wonder. It was always a risk, asking about history -a risk Sticks was not often keen to take. History was all-too-frequently bad, especially in these times history was bad. Where pure deduction wouldn't work, they could only imagine and wait for the opportunity to find out naturally in time. Sticks couldn't help but fabricate a hundred different stories for that gun- sad, funny, triumphant, devastating.  _ Nothing could be as interesting as the real one _ , they thought. Sensibilities were falling away by the klik.    
They decided, for better or worse, to take the chance, "Quite a trophy," they said, lifting their glass to gesture at the cannon.

  
  


Forceps blinked once or twice, hiccuping quietly, then chuckled and offered Sticks a cable. This story was best told with memories rather than through COMMs. Quite a trophy, indeed. Once plugged in, they purred quietly and accessed an old memory, streaming the file for Sticks to watch.    
  
_ Forceps was standing in a dingy basement somewhere, probably on Cybertron by the look of the materials. Well- not standing so much as being held upright by their scuff, armor flared in agitation, squirming to get loose. Too outraged to have any hope of speaking, they stared over their shoulder at their captor- well, at their captor's cannon, blocking their view of anything else. After a moment, the larger mech dropped them, pointing sternly at the table in front of them. "What do you mean, 'no'? That's the deal- you know you aren't supposed to treat those bots. They're waste. They're useless. They aren't worth the supplies to keep them alive. If you don't want to end up like them, you. Are going to do. This. Understand?"  _ _   
_ _ Forceps stared over their shoulder for a moment longer, then, tense, looked down at the table in question. Specifically, the mech on it. Strapped tightly down, drugged, but still conscious, wide, panicked optics darting between Forceps and the tray of cutting implements set next to the table. Mostly cutting tool. Not a familiar sight for most, fortunately, but this was an Empurata stage. _

*A moment more, watching the drugged, helpless mech, then Forceps turned around, stared up at the larger mech, and firmly shook their helm. No. They weren't about to mutilate someone.    
Whoever that was with the cannon and the Autobot Enforcer badge did not like that. Optics narrowed, they leaned down into Forceps' face, raising the arm with the cannon on it. "You are not in a position to refuse. Either you start on him, or you end up on the table next to him while I find a medic who  _ will _ . I'm not ab-"   
A massive boom shook the ground under the both of them, and the large mech, looking unbalanced, began to turn away, arm coming up and cannon priming-    
And Forceps, reflexes faster than anyone that size, brought up one arm and activated the laser in their forearm. The thick, bright beam seared its way through the cannon mounting, the cannon hit the floor and fired uselessly into the wall, and the large mech staggered with a howl of pain. Before he could recover, Forceps was up on the berth, standing on the prisoner's chassis, both lasers carving their way up along the big mech's legs.    
A few moments later, a ragtag crew of badged Decepticons burst through the door, weapons up, and about tripped over the twitching frame of the Enforcer-turned-doormat. Just as Forceps pulled away the last strap, a thick one over the prisoner's chassis, revealing another Decepticon badge.*(edited)

Forceps chugged the last of their energon, setting the glass aside, and blinked a couple of times before looking up at Sticks again.  _ "They wanted me to perform empurata on him for converting. If they didn't, they were going to butcher ME because I'd been treating empuratees. Wasn't supposed to. Was supposed to let them die in the gutters. Didn't like that idea," _ they declared, reaching over to refill their glass, and chugged a fair bit of it in one go.  _ "Didn't like a lot of ideas." _

 

Sticks flinched and sat up a little at the sight of the falling giant. They turned to Forceps optics wide and wearing a stunned, lopsided smile.  "You  _ did _ that?" they laughed, awe in their voice, "that's incredible." They leaned back again and settled down before continuing, "I don't know why I'm so surprised, I've had no reason to underestimate you but clearly I did." They heaved an inebriated sigh and shakily toasted the cannon, finishing off with another hefty sip. "Remind me not to get on your bad side," Laughing again now, they stretched an arm out behind Forceps's head, a counteroffer to their previous gesture, slightly sullied by their drunken sway.   
They decided to chance it again, "So... How'd you end up there with the Autobots anyway?"

  
  


Forceps wasn't exactly _cheery_ , they never were, but they certainly seemed happy to talk. And boast, just a fraction, turning their arm over to show the laser emitter. _"Most people underestimate me. I'm not much good in a fight if someone actually gets ahold of me, and I can't do much against blasters, but at mid-range or if someone is caught off guard I can do a Pit of a lot of damage. Let me tell you- medics in general can do that. Anatomy knowledge is immensely valuable in a fight."_  
Snug and warm, they curled up as close to Sticks as they could get, one arm around them, optics dim in thought. _"They're... not so much Autobots, not really. Not the type who want to restore the Golden Age. A good... quarter of the bots on this ship, if not more, have officially or unofficially shed their badges. Those who still have a cause, in a way, have... remarkably similar desires, badges or not. End the fighting. No one wants to see the Golden Age and its horrors restored, they -we- just want... peace. To, hopefully, maybe, try to recolonize a patch of Cybertron. Let people be alive near each other."_   
Wait. That hadn't been the question. Forceps frowned slightly, sawlets flickering, then remembered the actual question and looked up at Sticks. _"As for how I actually got here... I found some pirates. They thought I might be useful later and swiped me from the city I was attempting to relax in. Chained me to a wall. Managed to send off a distress signal, got chained more securely to another wall, then this bunch found the signal and stole me back. I like what they're doing. It... mostly consists of what they're doing with your crew, gathering people up."_

After a moment or two, Forceps pulled the blanket up further over the both of them, then leaned down, fiddled with something on the side of the berth to lift the head of it to some extent, and laid down all comfortably. A gentle pat to Sticks' arm, then a tug on their forearm, purring hopefully up at them.  _ "Get down here. Neither of us needs to be upright at the moment. Warmth time." _

  
  


Sticks looked down at Forceps with a dubious smile on their face, "Hmph, bossy medic." They drained the last of their drink and leaned over to attempt to set the glass gently on the floor. It clattered a bit, dropped from a bit too high, but miraculously didn't break. They sat back upright and stretched, spinning their wheels slightly, "I'll have you know I'm liable to fall asleep as soon as I get even moderately horizontal." Pulling up the blanket up to a reasonable distance, they laid down next to Forceps. As soon as their helm hit the berth their exhaustion ramped up a notch. They hoped Forceps didn't mind sharing a berth tonight. Then again, they'd seemed eager for the contact in the first place.  _ Hypocrite that they are, lecturing me on the benefits of physical intimacy, _ they thought, grinning to themself,  _ Seems like they haven't had a good cuddle in years... I guess I can be warm if they need it. _   
Though, they'd be lying to themself if they didn't admit they were enjoying it too. Usually the only one up for cuddles was Bowline, whose sheer size presented a safety hazard. Spade was the right size but never stops wiggling. The desperate thirst for contact presented itself inside them, bubbling up through their psyche, if slightly dulled by a drunken haze.  _ Hmph _ Forceps was right, though, they supposed.   
"I'm sorry if this is a personal question," Sticks said as the idea popped into their mind, their curiosity now unhindered by sober morals, "you're... you're a 'they' too, yeah? How'd  _ you _ get there?"

  
  


_ Yes, yes, I'm bossy, I'm terrible. But you're warm, you're touch-starved, and I'm sleepy. Get down here," _ they grumbled gently, and snuggled firmly against Sticks' side.  _ "It's a good trade- drinks for cuddling that you're clearly enjoying," _ Forceps huffed, and, emboldened by Sticks' clear need, curled into them and tossed an arm over their chassis. They didn't have any great options for snuggling- arriving on the ship was fairly recent, and most of their potential prospects were either suspiciously sweet (Patches), too extroverted (Blackspark), or taken. Scalpel, surprisingly, was... almost in the last category. Acus, maybe? But he was taken, and nervous. Recharged with Scalpel most nights. Forceps was fairly sure they were fragging. She seemed to have a bit of a soft spot somewhere under all the sharp edges. There were a few other prospects, but none  were likely to trust Forceps that much. Sticks... Forceps didn't know Sticks well at this point, but they'd probably gotten a good read. A bit awkward, but nice enough. Worst came to worst, not a physical threat.    
And, well. Sticks needed hugs. Forceps... wasn't too proud to admit, at least to themself, that they needed some affection.

_ "That is a personal question. Don't mind right now. Buzzed. Also more inclined to talk with someone up close," _ Forceps muttered, optics dimming in contentment.  _ "Ended up on a ship with someone who was determined to lecture absolutely everyone on gender identity. It... resonated a bit, some of it. No huge... anything, no revelations, just... listened to someone for lack of anything else to do, and something sounded familiar. Liked the idea." _   
Too comfortable and warm to be shy, they snuggled their face against Sticks' flank, shutting their optics entirely. They'd... they'd be honest.  _ "I like this. I really like this. Don't have any good prospects on the ship... either too, too willing, too much of an extrovert for me, in a relationship enough for me not to ask, or... potentially willing but not trusting me well enough yet. Before these, increasingly paranoid Decepticons, and briefly organics. Did snuggle an organic once- not half bad. No EM field, though, not quite a good substitute. Also, fragile. This... this I like. You're warm. You're enjoying yourself, that feels good. I don't think you're up to anything. If I'm very wrong and you are, well... I think I could subdue you. But I don't think you are. I like you, so far." _

 

"You know I got to 'they' in a pretty similar way. Someone's always gotta explain that to us huh? Bowline..." Sticks trailed off for a moment, attention wavering, "she's really good about that stuff." They chuckled softly, "and after seeing what you showed me you could  _ absolutely _ take me out, without question. Archivists don't get blasters -too bad really, coulda used em." They paused for a moment as they reminisced, "They -hah- they gave me a fraggin blaster -Autobot platoon leader, 'they'- and expected this tiny archivist to use it." Sticks shifted their position slightly, just the slightest bit closer to Forceps. "I never even got to shoot the damn thing- dropped it before I even touched down..." their optics wavered with the onset of sleep. They let out a long yawn and sighed, "you know, I like this too..." They curled even closer to Forceps and lay quietly for a few kliks before shutting their optics, falling asleep.

  
  


Forceps made an odd, semi-sympathetic scoffing noise and patted Sticks' helm, muttering _"wonder why that didn't work out."_   
EM humming quiet _contentment/satisfaction/affection/_ , they pulled the blanket up a bit further, tucked one arm around Forceps' frame and the other up to their front with their servo tucked under their chin for protection, and shut their optics. They took a bit longer to fall asleep, savoring the warmth and the sensory input of another, but drifted off shortly after they did.   
  
When they woke up, it was with a vaguely suspicious air about them, not sure what to make of the situation. When their processor caught up, they huffed, chuckled, and squeezed Sticks tighter, deciding to go with the situation. And see how long it took Sticks to wake up and/or notice what was happening. Too sleepy to have anything like reservations, they snuggled into Sticks' collar plating and purred, warm and content, waiting to see what would happen.

 

Sticks woke up abruptly upon hearing Forceps's noises, their optics snapping open in alarm. Their arms flailed wildly in an attempt to break free, smacking Forceps in the face a few times. They kicked their legs so violently it jostled the both of them off the berth, landing on the floor in a pile. Sticks kicked free and bolted up to standing, making a limping beeline for the door. It was only when they stood in front of the door they were able to process that no, they weren't in danger. The ship was silent compared to the sand-planet, so the first thing that woke them was the noise right next to them. They turned to Forceps, optics wide, bright with panic, looking like they were about to cry, "Primus, I'm so sorry." They limped over to where Forceps lay and squatted down next to them, servos reaching out to help. A million thoughts buzzed through their head  _ what have I done, what have I doooone whathaveidonewhathaveidone, Primus, what have i done. _

 

Aghk-    
Well. That wasn't the response they'd been looking for. Forceps jolted, arms coming up as a shield, and fortunately had the presence of mind to engage "panicked patient" actions instead of "threat" actions. Tucking their helm down to protect their optics, they crossed their arms over their face, curling their fingers to keep their servos out of the way and offer the relatively thick plating on their forearms. They'd been right- Sticks wasn't much of a threat. So, fully awake, they stayed still and waited for them to calm down, even when that involved falling on the floor. Sometimes patients panicked, and the best option for those not in any condition to cause serious damage was to stay still and wait for them to calm down.    
Seriously wishing they had the voice to offer reassurance, they propped themself up on their elbows, watching Sticks from the floor. They didn't look terribly pleased- they'd been warm and cozy, this was the opposite of that. A quick, vehement sign of  _ rude! _ , then they curled onto their side to avoid pressure on their sawlets, reaching up to trap Sticks' servos.    
Maybe they should have expected this. Huffing, they picked at the bandages on Sticks' servos for a moment, straightening everything out, then hauled themself up by the side of the berth. They still didn't look terribly happy, rubbing the side of their helm where it had hit the floor, but... fine. Huffing again, they flopped back into the berth, putting themself against the wall, and firmly patted the empty space next to them. They didn't have the voice to reassure Sticks, and COMMs didn't feel like enough, so... this. And maybe they'd insist on a backrub or something, try and get that relaxation back.

  
  


It took a while- a long while- for Sticks to properly calm down. They sat on their knees on the floor, head-in-servos and tried to think about nothing -not the reactionary sense of danger that was taking too long to fade, not the fact they'd thrown the first person to show them proper intimacy in a long while onto the floor, and certainly not the fact that they were definitely still sitting on the floor, definitely being watched by that same person, looking like a pathetic excuse for a fool. Nothing. They thought they'd lost all shame on the sand planet-save for special occasions- but here it was plain as day. At last they let go of their face and looked up at Forceps. Sticks was relieved to see the lack of anger on their face and sat down on the edge of the berth upon their gesture.    
"I... I'm sorry. I'm usually a light sleeper- been caught offguard too many times," Sticks sighed, "Salvo's been trying to train me into waking up on a specific cue." Here they tapped their helm a few times, "So that I didn't flip when it was my turn for watch, but... even that doesn't work all the time."

 

Despite the urge to do something like throw a blanket over Sticks, Forceps stayed still and watched, electing not to touch them and potentially startle them. Poor thing was hard to be irritated at, even for Forceps.    
When Sticks sat on the berth, Forceps touched their arm in warning, then reached down and, with surprisingly little difficulty, hauled Sticks' legs onto the berth. None of that "sitting on the edge about to leave" stuff. Huffing, they pulled Sticks more firmly onto the berth and tucked a blanket over their lap, then leaned against them and pulled both skeletal servos to their own back. They wanted a backrub. Seemed fair. Might help Sticks relax a bit.    
By way of apology-acceptance, they snuggled in close and pressed their face against Sticks' side, up close with both arms around their frame. There. Maybe this would help some? They weren't- well, okay, they were upset, but more at the general concept of the disturbance than at Sticks themself. They liked Sticks.

 

Something about Forceps's silence was unnerving, Sticks wasn't sure what to make if it. Whether they were too angry to vocalize or just didn't feel the need to, they couldn't tell. But then again something about it was also calming- a release from the pressure of composing counter-sentences, worrying about the unreliability words. The tension broke as Forceps pulled them back in. They weren't angry, they guessed, at least not angry enough to turn them out. Their frame had heated up a bit from the panic, they realized as they turned over to face Forceps, they hoped they didn't mind. It was cool enough in the ship to actually notice it. Normally the heat of the sand planet would have masked the feeling, taking their strength instead as payment. Not that they'd had much to begin with, Sticks thought as Forceps guided their servos to their back. Yes, they could do this again.    
Sticks's fingers found the spot from before, the hard-to-reach one in between their saws. They traced the seams of Forceps's chassis starting from there, gently working the tips of their fingers into whatever small crevices they could feel. They arrived at their winglets and traced around the base before the impulse hit them to softly work their way up and around Forceps's saws. They figured the medic wouldn't be able to really get at them by themself, at the very least they deduced the area must be somewhat sensitive. Moving up to the saws, the thought occurred to them it would take one inkling -one false move- to destroy the remnants of their piteous servos. They hoped it was okay.

 

This... this was different than before. The first time had been exceedingly casual, Forceps with their back to Sticks, a relatively common occurrence in showers. Some people had kibble, wings, or something else blocking parts of their backs, it was a casual thing for someone to ask for assistance with said spots. This, though... leaning against Sticks, helm on their side, soft attention to their back... this was  _ good _ .    
They didn't pay much attention to their polish beyond what healthy nanites achieved on their own, but they kept themself clean. Even the hard-to-reach spots, clean thanks to a long brush or a strong showerhead. There was tension between their sawlets, but it eased, and as it did the saws began to slowly spin. Which had to be alarming for Sticks. Frowning slightly, they bumped their helm reassuringly into Sticks' side, trying their best to draw themself up enough, mentally, to speak. "You are safe. The saws themselves are dull, extending the laser blades is a conscious act and not one I carry out when this close to someone. You are welcome to touch them and see- there is nothing to hurt y....  _ nngh _ ."    
Sticks' fingers found a good spot and Forceps  _ groaned _ , then lifted the small, delicate plates around their sawlet bases, letting Sticks' fingertips underneath. Their voicebox didn't want to work any further, but, mmh, that little noise and the way their entire back arched up against Sticks' touch was enough to practically beg for  _ more _ .

 

Sticks startled a little bit at the sudden -and somewhat erotic- movement  _ and that noise. _ They stopped their servos, resting them on Forceps's back plates, near the spot. A mischievous glint lit up their optics. Now, they  _ could _ be nice, scratch a special itch for a new coworker/friend/??? help solidify their 'good impression' or... "Now what was  _ that, _ Forceps?" they could be a little mean, "I didn't know you could make noises like that." They could hardly contain the glee blooming inside them. A smug grin grew across their face but they managed to keep their voice just the slightest bit stern, "I understood this was a strictly  _ professional _ sleepover." The pièce de résistance presented itself to their mind on a silver platter, weighing the odds, they figured death by saw to the face would be worth it, "You're going to have to ask me to continue. Verbally."   
At least Forceps would have to deal with the mess afterward.

 

Forceps, judging by the expression on their face and the sensation of their field, hadn't known they could make a noise like that either. Dear Primus. They didn't  _ make _ incoherent noises of pleasure. Not even during interface. What had done that? Had it been, maybe, the- they'd been talking already, could that have been-    
...Sticks was making fun of them. Snorting through their vents in the only noise they could really make at the moment, they leaned back enough to glare up at Sticks in irritation, lightly smacking their arm with one forearm. Gangly aft. Was it really necessary to- oh,  _ oh _ , they did  _ not _ just- oi! That was just cruel. Forceps huffed louder, glancing away, and smacked their forearm against Sticks' leg- harder, this time. Rude! Really! Was- was that- was it really necessary to-

Oh, curse them. Forceps wanted more. Narrowing their optics slightly, they glared up at Sticks for a moment, then started gesturing. Vehemently. A firm point at Sticks, then a gesture like the pressurization of a spike, then a quick outline of a large cylinder, then at Sticks again. Essentially, "you are a giant dick". But... that wasn't what Sticks had requested, so, glaring up at them with an expression somewhat softened by a faint but distinct blush, Forceps vented deeply a couple times more and attempted to speak. Closest they could come to a request. "Tangible benefits of preening, grooming, and physical massage include relaxation of the frame, readjustment of misaligned components, an overall sense of calm, increasing of social bonds, and  _ not wanting to chain someone in place until they keep going _ ," they hissed, and, demandingly, butted their helm into Sticks' flank again. Really- making fun of their mental tic? That would have gotten most people tipped off the berth onto their idiot helms... except that Sticks was petting their back very nicely and, slag them, had somehow managed to get Forceps to like them.    
Aft.

  
  


Here Sticks smiled brightly, unable to keep themself from snorting a little bit. At last they'd succeeded in taking Forceps down a notch. Being that stiff and professional all the time couldn't be healthy, no matter what the medic thought was proper. Plus, proper friendship required exchange, they wondered if Forceps knew that. They'd make a Choir member out of them yet.    
Sticks nodded, meeting Forceps's optics, "that'll do." The mischief in their expression was now replaced with a subtle tenderness, their voice devoid of malice. With both arms, they shifted Forceps slightly closer to them and returned to the area at the base of their sawlets. They slipped their fingers in under the armor slowly, gently, occasionally applying the slightest bit of pressure. Their fingers circled around the area a few times, making sure to touch every surface. A give and take- if they were going to subject Forceps to such indignity, they were going to do a good job as recompense.

 

Forceps scoffed, hard, but went limp against Sticks to relax. Fine. They'd forgive them -this time- if they kept petting. A soft, purring groan pried its way out of their throat, and they edged closer into Sticks' frame, making a very quiet, continuous noise akin to a purr. That was definitely still a noise from their vocalizer- evidently it hadn't quite switched off, not yet. That was odd, but... oh well. Didn't matter. They got petting. Both arms slid around Sticks, tweaking the edge of a piece of plating in a final act of irritation, then slid down to stroke over their sides. Slow, gentle pets, playing along seams and muscle cables, skilled medics' fingers finding any stiff spots and realigning cables. They knew how to groom, how to pet, how to-   
Sticks found another good spot, and Forceps arched up again, pushing those fingertips deeper under their plating, that not-quite-silent noise from their vocalizer pitching distinctly louder in what was almost,  _ almost _ a moan. "Mmmnnh- mmmore," they purred, and began to knead firmly with both servos, massaging Sticks' side in search of sensitive areas to return the favor. Skinny aft could definitely use it.    
They didn't seem to notice when their servos wandered a bit lower and began to play around Sticks' hip plating. That was genuine- they'd noted the change in texture, had registered with some part of their mind that they were realigning hip plating now, but they didn't consciously register that, now past Sticks' hip, they were kneading firmly on the other bot's outer thigh. They probably would have moved their servos elsewhere if they'd noticed. Didn't want to push.

 

Now  _ this _ Sticks didn't expect. As Forceps continued their kneading, shocks of energy pinged up their side. That deep hunger from before resurfaced, no longer obscured by a drunken haze. It shone like a beacon in their mind, saying  _ you've needed physical intimacy for more than 1000 years you fool. _ Their body jolted for a moment as Forceps hit another pressure point. Their voice caught in their vocalizer, tinted with touch-starved desperation, static creeping in at the edges, "d-damn." That  _ did _ feel good. They supposed their fun with Forceps was a bit unfounded, after all who  _ wouldn't _ melt at that. They pulled Forceps in further, now able to rest a chin on the top of their helm, and began to work their fingers with a bit more gusto. An awful thought trotted through their mind: Primus, they'd have to put on a straight face and  _ work _ with this bot later.

 

Forceps paused for a moment, suddenly registering the entire situation and how Sticks was responding, but firmly decided against doing anything else. That was exactly the opposite of a bad response. So... they'd keep going, keep stroking, and keep their servos to- well, it was too late to keep their servos to neutral areas, but they could stay away from downright suggestive areas.    
That... almost immediately failed, though. Working blind due to having their optics shut, they stroked along Sticks' outer thigh to realign the plates, then followed another misaligned plate up, which meant stroking a seam of their inner thigh. Forceps' servos didn't linger, though, they'd started to focus on that one thing; fix all the plating that could use fixing. Engine purring, they climbed about halfway into Sticks' lap to shift the angle, reaching around behind the other bot to rub at the complex workings of their lower back. Firm, practiced strokes, perfectly angled to either realign components or stroke into seams, not quite rushed but not lingering in any particular area. They'd let Sticks choose any particular spot to linger. For now... petting. And this was definitely petting, they'd long since passed the point of anything but. Didn't mean Forceps cared in the slightest.    
This probably wasn't terribly professional. It probably broke some rules somewhere for Forceps to do something like this with someone who was both a patient and technically their subordinate. But, really- it wasn't as if they were going to  _ do _ anything with either of those relationships. If Sticks wanted to stop, they'd stop. If not... mutually enjoyable, mutually beneficial petting. And taking full advantage of the fact that they were small enough to fit into Sticks' lap.    
Screw anything else. They both needed this.

 

Sticks found there was something immensely comforting about the care with which Forceps treated their frame, fixing things, aligning things. Tension eased in areas they didn't even think were that tense. They felt... lighter somehow. They couldn't help but laugh, not at anything in particular, but just for the feeling of long-seated desperation seeping away, uncovering a forgotten joy. After a few more moments of concentrated petting, they brought their servos away, trailing them up again along the crevices of Forceps's back to hold the other medic in a gentle embrace. They swept their fingers absentmindedly against the back of Forceps's helm and let out a happy sigh.    
_.:I imagine we'll need to start shift soon, yeah?:. _ they commed, unwilling to disturb the silence with a vocalization.

 

That little laugh had perfect timing- just right to sweep away the paranoid thought that this had been  _ too _ easy, that something might be amiss here, that Sticks might be acting out of obligation, or, worse, of some ill intent. It wasn't an unfamiliar category of thought, and Forceps had only recently begun to learn the difference between thought-threads based on intuition and those based on paranoia. This... this was paranoia. There was no threat here.    
Forceps' servos, momentarily stilled by hesitation and concern, began to move again, up Sticks' back to mimic what the other bot was doing with Forceps, and careful fingertips slid coaxingly under plating, easing it upward to pet away the tension underneath. The touch to their helm brought a soft ex-vent, nearly a purr, and a drowsy lift of their saws, but Forceps otherwise stayed perfectly still- save their smoothly moving servos. Even when they had to talk.    
_.:Mm... technically we probably should, but... I am a medic who had been on a very long shift of my own choosing, and you have a perfect excuse to stay in and rest. As long as no one specifically calls to request assistance... I do feel entirely comfortable staying in here for some time longer. If you would like. I am not going to pressure you, you are in no way under any obligation to stay, but:. _ a pause, servos kneading against a particularly tense area of cabling,  _.:I doubt you have any strong desire to leave. Let me know if that changes. In the meantime... barring distress calls or someone doing something terribly stupid, the other medics won't need me -us- right now. Scalpel is... snippy... in the mornings anyway, she isn't going to be looking for conversation:. _

 

Sticks smiled,  _.:Alright then let's stay. I don't believe I'll be able to get back to sleep but after a long shift... if you'd like to sleep some more I'll stay put, be warm:. _ They absentmindedly pet Forceps's helm, a little lost in the moment. Then the strangest thing happened. A cadence from a song they'd heard far before their time on the sand planet rang in their head. Just a few notes, but unmistakable ones. The lyrics bubbled up to meet the melody as at last the song put itself together. Sticks began to hum it, hoping it wasn't too loud -hoping it didn't ruin the moment. It was an old song, one made before the war and far away from urban society. The melody lingered on its diminished notes while twirling around a major theme, evoking a feeling of inevitability and loss but also companionship. Sticks could hardly really do it justice, they realized, trailing off.

 

Forceps, sunk too deep into pleasure to care about anything short of a gun to their helm, didn't even consciously register the humming. Their massage had gotten a bit more... almost intimate, fingertips sliding as far up under Sticks' back plating as was physically possible, massaging the cables underneath. Debatably intimate depending on one's standards, but unquestionably personal. No one seemed to mind, though... Forceps certainly didn't. They liked the... everything. The warmth, the companionship, the thrumming of a living, healthy frame under their fingertips, the  _ petting _ . They fit perfectly in Sticks' lap, and everything was so... warm. Medics, especially those of Forceps' build, valued warmth. Not just for their own frame- warmth to keep them safe and running, warmth to keep their patients alive and healthy, the warmth of  _ life _ under their servos as reassurance that everything was working.    
Sticks was alive. Forceps was alive. Both were healthy. Well- mostly healthy, Forceps had a few old aches that no one but time could help and Sticks still needed rest and healing, but they were healthy enough.    
  
...and bored. Nice as this was, they were awake, and they wanted to do something. Reluctantly uncurling, they tucked back and ended up straddling Sticks' thigh, helm cocked, looking vaguely annoyed at themself.  _.:...this is nice, but I want to get to work on something. What do you want to do?:. _

 

Sticks pushed themself up onto one elbow, making sure not to disturb Forceps's seat-evidently their thigh was a nice place to squat. Well that was an open question. The other medic seemed to have had plans for them this entire time, and now to have been given the reins, what possibilities, what  _ power... _ They could think of nothing. They drew a finger across their chin and pondered for a bit. Mischief was the Choir's way, and Forceps looked like they needed a bit of genuine fun. But they were pretty sure Scalpel would have their head if they messed around with any of the medbay staff -and that would ruin their 'good impression.' They could prank their own crew -but that may hurt Forceps's standing, a goal for later perhaps, once they'd been made better acquainted. Then again- they did have a job now. And there was trying to learn more of Forceps's sign language, they couldn't exactly get very far on two words.   
They turned to Forceps, their optics serious with their newfound responsibility and their fingers steepled underneath their chin,  _.:Three questions. First: Is it time to officially start work? Second: If negative to the former, are there any more important servo-signs I should learn before we start work. And third...:. _ their optics took a mischievous glint again  _.:Only if negative to the first two, is there anyone on this ship who you think needs to be brought down a notch? Provided you believe they can also take a joke:. _

 

Forceps leaned against Sticks slightly to think, optics lightly dim, humming a quiet noise in the back of their throat. _.:First... medics pretty much make our own hours here. A lot of people do, but especially us. As far as I'm aware, we don't have much that needs doing aside from cleaning, and I think a couple bots are on cleaning duty for being afts, so we don't exactly have to rush in to lighten the load. Second, nothing I can teach you in this short amount of time. COMMs are probably faster. I can translate on the run if anything comes up. Mostly it's going to be swearing. Third...:._   
Another couple of slow, thoughtful blinks, then Forceps chuckled silently, slightly amused already. _.:Haven't considered that sort of thing in the past. Please don't do anything involving the medbay, we save lives in there and we need it in good shape. Engine room, same. Acus, don't bother. He's had enough nonsense, he won't respond well, and Scalpel will throw you out an airlock. Longrange is a minibot with etched armor patterns, leave them alone also. Avalon looks like a mech covered in scrap material, he's... not likely to realize you're playing. Patches doesn't need to be taken down a peg, but... he has a good sense of humor. If you want to do something like see how many decorative items you can stick on him without him noticing, he'll probably take that well. The rest... there are a couple who could use a few notches taken down, but none who'd take it well. Hm. I'll consider it:._

A thought occurred to them, and they leaned back slightly, optics glinting.  _.:Do you want to meet some of our more unusual patients? We have some checkups about due. I can introduce you to... let's see. Gravescratch has seven optics, six limbs, a tail, and is willing to oblige inspections if you're polite and someone bribes him with a meal. Blackspark is heavily carrying, and you should meet him soon, he's due relatively soon. Or... do you want to meet possibly the only pair of splitspark twins alive? They have some unusual traits beyond that:. _

 

Sticks was still processing what Forceps had suggested when they'd finished. They held up a servo, cleared their throat, and vocalized, "I'm sorry, he has  _ how many limbs? _ " Not that it wasn't important to meet their other patients, especially one who's carrying -they'd read about that before, did not seem especially comfortable. But this Gravescratch fellow, they wondered how he got about with so many limbs, it was hard enough to manage four. Something about the prospect of their first real checkup with a new patient was at once daunting and exhilarating. Pranks could be saved for later, at least once they'd gotten enough work done to be able to say they weren't goofing off on-shift. It was time to start anew.    
"Let's meet some patients," they said, their optics sparking with determination.

 

 _.:Six or seven, depending on if you count the tail. Try not to look too shocked at him. He finds it rude. And do not treat him like an animal, say anything about a collar, or try to pet him like a dog if you want to keep your servos. His past has made him... touchy. A Functionalist lab grew him as part of a prototype batch of scent-hounds. He proceeded to... rather strongly object to his treatment. By eating a Senator. You'll see what I mean- I suspect he's out here already, he assists with cleanups. His sense of smell is extraordinary and helps us detect traces of contamination. You'll... you'll see. He's not dangerous if you treat him as a sapient being rather than an animal:._   
Forceps, reluctantly, climbed out of Sticks' lap with one final nuzzle and stepped onto the floor. Pausing, they arched their back and stretched their arms over their helm, elbows folding slightly backward, fingers splaying wide, sawlets spinning gently, armor lifting and realigning itself, then shivered, settled everything down, and offered Sticks an arm. _.:Stand carefully:._  
  
Gravescratch was, indeed, already in the medbay, on all fours, halfway under one berth, tailtip twitching slowly in concentration. Pressing his belly flat to the ground, he squeezed through the tiny space, popped up on the other side, shook his helm, and flared a series of little slits on either side of his muzzle in a sharp ex-vent. "This area is clean," he rumbled, rolling both sets of shoulders, and moved to the next area- by walking directly over Patches, stepping on the round mech's shoulders. Patches didn't seem to care in the slightest.   
  


 

Sticks had to stop for a moment to admire Gravescratch. They'd heard of Insecticons and the occasional opportunistic quadruped cybertronian, but he was something else altogether. Six limbs was six limbs after all, and the bot didn't seem to be having any trouble maneuvering. In fact he seemed rather fluid.  _ Functionist engineering... created to be treated like an animal. Couldn't even imagine living like that... Poor guy. _ They glanced at Forceps  _.:You say he ate a senator? What a legend:. _ Sticks took a moment to compose themself. Closing their optics, they stretched out a bit to realign plating, kicked their legs to limber up, and clasped their servos together. When they reopened their optics, they almost looked like a different person: It was time to be professional. They carried their frame high as they strode- limping only slightly now thanks to Forceps's careful massage- over to where Gravescratch and Patches stood.    
"Hello sir, I understand you're Gravescratch," Sticks stuck out their servo, in their customary way, "pleased to make your acquaintance, my name is Sticks, I'm the new medic, Forceps's uhh..." they stole a look back to Forceps only slightly at a loss, "apprentice?"  They turned back to face Gravescratch, "anyway, I've been told you're due for a checkup so if you would like to get started..." Now they were really at a loss. Where to go next? Their sentence began to die in front of them, they merely kept their servo out and smile on in hopes their 'good impression' had been made.

 

Gravescratch moved with complete surety, fluid and smooth despite his odd appearance, and stepped over a berth to get to Sticks. Helm cocking, he looked Sticks up and down, then lowered his helm and  _ sniffed _ at Sticks' helm, at the same time as he took Sticks' servo in- well, both of his, from the same side. His primary servos had relatively blunt fingers with thick padding on them, made to walk on, and his smaller, secondary servos had delicate, slim fingers. Gravescratch was one to fully embrace his strangeness and to make it clear to others that he was not ashamed of himself. Responding to an offered servo like this would do that. "You smell interesting," he muttered, that thin, whiplike tail swishing once or twice in contemplation, then turned away and climbed onto the nearest berth. Very well. He couldn't sit like most people not with his tail extended, so he slumped onto his side and lounged comfortably, propped up on his elbow and eyeing Sticks like a lion pondering something to decide whether it might be prey.

_.:Yes, and he's quite proud of it. Now... he's a bit more, shall we say, apprehensive about medical procedures than a lot of patients. It's best to let him have a look at any equipment you plan to use before you put it anywhere near him, and we are going to keep all needles away from him. I'm sure you can guess why, him being a laboratory experiment and all. The trouble is, he's also one of the more... defiant patients. Very keen on keeping this air of his up so people will respect him. He won't admit to his unease. You'll want to start with a physical exam, while I find a medical scanner that isn't rooted into someone's frame that you can use. I doubt there are any issues, but I assume you're curious, so you may as well examine his joints. Check to see if they flex smoothly. Try to ignore the staring, he does that. Or, if you can't... watch the rest of his optics. They move independently. He has a significantly larger processor than most, mostly to parse the sensory input from seven independently moving optics, his sense of smell, his hearing, and to move all his limbs properly and coordinate himself at top speed. His alt can hit about 200mph for an impressive distance. And check his primary servos, he has venomous spurs tucked into his wrists. Try not to stab yourself:. _

 

_.:Incredible...:. _ Sticks walked over to the berth where Gravescratch lay. They almost wanted to ask him more about himself but thought better of it, lest the bot thought they were talking about him behind his back -which, they supposed, they were. All would come in time, they were no Bowline at casually extracting information.    
"Alright then let's begin," Sticks put on a sunny smile and looked Gravescratch in the optics, sure enough some  _ were _ moving independently of others, looking around the room. Keeping their friendly glance quick, they decided to follow Forceps's suggestion and took one of his forearms in their servos. They turned it over to examine the aforementioned wrist-spurs.  _.:Nasty stuff, looks like:. _ Making mental note of where they came out, they carefully repositioned their servos to facilitate movement. "I'm just going to check your joints first, tell me if you feel anything off," they said steadily before lifting up the limb and testing its flexion at the elbow, making sure not to go past any resistance. Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, they repositioned again to the bot's shoulder, slowly moving the upper arm first horizontally and then vertically. They wondered if Gravescratch would be comforted by some small talk, certainly some would. They decided to test it out, "You said I smell interesting, huh? Interesting how?"

 

Gravescratch narrowed a few of his optics at the sunny expression, but otherwise stayed neutral, letting Sticks handle him. Guessing at what Sticks was doing, he flexed his servo slightly and extended a long, needle-like spur from high up on his wrist, like a dewclaw, then retracted it again. "A simple paralytic. Harmless as far as paralytics go, but fast-acting and effective. I only need to catch up to someone once to put them on the ground," he rumbled, and relaxed that limb to let it be moved. His elbow didn't bend as far as on most beings, but it flexed slightly to both sides as well as back and forth. His shoulder didn't move strangely, but that was probably only because regular shoulder motion was in practically every direction anyway.    
Now, that secondary arm-  _ that _ was an unusual degree of flexibility. His elbow bent even further to either side, and his shoulder didn't just flex in every direction, the joint swiveled while flexed. There were no barbs on those servos, but the fingers were long, thin, and lightly padded underneath, and instinctively grasped for Sticks at the slightest hint of a touch. Those were for practical servo-uses, evidently, where the others could also be used for running.    
At the question, he leaned in, long neck craning, to get a better sniff at Sticks, then opened a hidden  _ mouth _ that came all the way back to the hinge of his formerly hidden lower jaw and extended the tip of a very long glossa to take a quick little lick at Sticks' helm. "Hm. You smell of Forceps, to start with. Trace of high-grade. And then..." a pause, lowering his helm to scent at Sticks' shoulder instead, "sand. And something I don't like. I suspect from wherever we picked you up from. Nothing short of a very thorough decontamination shower can remove every trace of scent from your frame. Something organic... invertebrate. Agh, lovely, I take it you brought us the worms I've been checking for. They taste strange. Not worth eating."

 

"Spot on there, I brought them right to you," Sticks said absentmindedly, a little thrown off by Gravescratch's enormous mouth and their mention of Forceps. Mostly the latter. Of course, it made sense. It was completely logical and yet their reactionary blush was completely illogical, why would anyone care? Why would  _ they _ care if anyone cared? This was a stupid train of thought, "unfortunate they don't taste good. Then maybe our hard work unknowingly incubating them wouldn't have been for nothing."  _ Lost focus again, _ they let out a quick sigh to clear their mind before they continued, moving to Gravescratch's hind legs. They glanced back to his face and gave him a brisk nod before placing their servos on the limb to continue checking mobility, this time stretching out the ankle joint. They'd never really gotten a chance to look at legs quite like this and became genuinely engrossed in the ligament-cable-joint structure. Optics firmly rooted on the task they were employing themself with, they addressed Gravescratch again, "Have you had any problems lately you'd like us to check out? -And anything you'd want me to know as a newcomer." The addition occurred to them as they spoke, realizing that they might as well ask outright in case something came up later in the exam.

 

" _ Well... _ someone had fun last night, I take it?" Gravescratch purred, chuckling softly, and watched Sticks with an air of amusement. "Now... you have not interfaced recently, or I would smell  _ that _ , but you were" a pause, glancing over at Forceps, who was pretending to focus on something else but was definitely listening and had their sawlets up in something like outrage, "-definitely doing  _ something _ . Someone was" another pause as he rolled onto his back, stretching, pressing his pede to Sticks' chassis and somehow smirking despite his mouth being closed and invisible, "- _ cuddling _ , I see."    
Gravescratch's pedes split into two toes apiece, heavily padded on the bottom to minimize sound and the impact of each step, and on enough pressure his entire ankle joint seemed to collapse slightly. Shock absorbers, to take the brunt of an impact and dissipate the energy before it could harm the rest of his leg. His knees did  _ not _ flex to either side, thankfully, but his hips did. He seemed entirely comfortable in whatever weird position he found himself in, sprawled semi-gracefully on his other side now like an exceptionally long cat, and the very tip of his tail was wagging in evident amusement. "Mm, no problems. For you... are you referring to things you should know about me, personally, or about this ship in general? Because most of what you need to know about  _ me _ is that I do not suffer fools gladly, and if you treat me like a dog I will behave like one towards you. As in, I will bite you."

 

_ Laughing, good. Better than nothing. Joke's on him, I can take a joke. _ Time to work the ol Sticks charm. They grinned wildly through their returning blush, "oh what's wrong with a little cuddling? When was the last time  _ you _ cuddled, sir? I'll have you know it's a very healthy habit." Setting Gravescratch's other leg down they found themself somewhat at a loss for what to do next- what they knew was first aid, not general practice. They were curious about the bot's mouth, they supposed -just how he had managed to eat someone. They walked over to the other part of the berth where his front half was. "Now it is well known that I am a fool, but I will try to restrain myself just for you," they said, casually leaning against the nearest wall, "If you do not wish to talk about this, forget I even asked, but..." they trailed off and looked Gravescratch in the optics, hoping to inspire some bragging instead of apprehension, "I've heard something about you and a senator?"

 

"Last night, and I did considerably more than  _ that _ ," Gravescratch muttered, swiveling around to watch Sticks, and ended up lounging comfortably again with his primary arms crossed. "Hm, well, if you're  _ aware _ of it, that may help."    
At the question, Gravescratch paused for a moment more, contemplating it, and pushed himself up slightly further on his elbows. "Mm, yes. I certainly am" as he spoke, he opened his mouth wide, wider, as wide as it would go, which didn't impede his speech in the slightest, "equipped for it."

And he was. What looked like an empuratee helm opened along a near-invisible seam into a canine-esque mouth, and a long, flexible tongue lolled free as he did  _ something _ that, despite him not having lips, better showed off the sawlike rows of teeth. He had a few up front that looked like they were designed to puncture, but most along the sides of his mouth looked as though their intent was to  _ cut _ , an impression only increased when he flexed a muscle somewhere and both rows of teeth on his bottom jaw moved back and forward slightly. That long neck arched and expanded, a flap in the back of his mouth lifted, and he showed off a pitch-black, cavernous throat cavity that Forceps could easily have fit an arm down. This was a creature custom-made to saw great hunks of metal from the body of prey and swallow those chunks whole, and that, coupled with all seven of his optics swiveling to stare down at Sticks, was ominous indeed. "Go on, have a look. I don't bite... without reason. The senator in question, a high-up and particularly devout Functionalist... gave me a reason. He thought it was an  _ excellent _ idea to produce near-sapient beings intended to track down, slaughter, and consume dissidents. I was the only one of my batch to survive... and I turned out smarter than appreciated. He thought I ought to be content with my lot in life, I thought he looked edible. He was. Pinnacle of perfect design he might have been, but he was not well-armed... nor did he taste particularly important. Mostly tasted of satisfaction."    
_.:You can put your servos in there. He won't bite you, and he doesn't have a gag reflex. Scalpel's had her arm down his throat a few times if he's gotten something stuck down there, he'll sit and carry on a conversation like nothing's happening:. _

 

For the first time today, Sticks was almost afraid, significantly intimidated at least. Gravescratch's tempering stare and fearsome mouth combined with his words elicited an exhilarating mix of both deep seated unease and glorious awe. They tentatively shuffled forward, extending an unsteady servo to gently support his chin while they leaned in to get a closer look. Sticks couldn't quite figure whether it was that split-second sawlike motion they'd seen Gravescratch do or the black hole he had for a throat that caught them offguard. Truly their mind was ablaze thinking about just what he could do- what he  _ did. _ They took a deep intake, far be it from them to be afraid of a patient. "Satisfaction..." Sticks managed after some time adjusting, "Absolutely legendary."    
Now a little less intimidated and back in medic-mode they curiously examined the bot's teeth, "no tooth chipping, dullness, or other problems we should worry about? I mean I don't know slag about dentistry but likely we can find someone who does."

 

"Bold one," Gravescratch purred, softly, and held perfectly still for Sticks. Whatever he'd done with his throat relaxed, closing the space up somewhat, and a soft flap presumably designed to keep him from accidentally swallowing things settled back into place over his throat. "Mm, no tooth damage you can do anything about. A few old chips, but my self-repair grows these out to repair any damage. They sharpen as they slide together. Now... I do have one thing I would like some minor help with. Something has wedged itself into one area, I would appreciate some assistance removing it."    
In the back of his mouth, a shard of what looked suspiciously like strut material was wedged into a gap in the saw-row of teeth. "Go on. I have no gag reflex, nothing to worry about. I promise not to bite you during this," he offered, and braced himself slightly, staying still, jaws relatively relaxed in case Sticks wanted to handle him.    
Forceps approached for just long enough to hand Sticks a small probe, a bit like an ice pick with a slightly rounded tip, then backed away again.  _.:Nothing especially difficult to do. He occasionally has trouble with things like this due to his arm shape and the angles. You should be able to get that out easily from an inside angle, just pry it out. You should be able to grip his helm however you want:. _

 

Sticks took the probe and turned it over in their servo. They didn't get much purchase with the bandages covering their digits and then there was... They held the thin handle in between their fingers and frowned. They'd long ago given into the fact that their grip strength for things like this really wasn't what it had been but perhaps things had changed? They'd be damned if they gave up. They held the probe as tightly as their fingers would let them and turned to go deal with the obstruction. Within a few seconds of deciding to draw closer, they felt their grip slip and just barely caught the probe in both servos before it fell to the floor.    
"Well... that's embarrassing," they tried to smile through their shame but this time couldn't quite overcome the feeling of helplessness, "I guess I'm just used to my improvised tools." They sighed and fiddled with the handle,  _.:Confession time. After... what happened, I haven't been able to really hold onto small things like this, oil-fingers that I am:. _ They paused as they looked back down at the tool in their bandaged servos. An idea occurred to them. They carefully fitted the end of the probe down into the wrapping around their palm and then wrapped their fingers around it again.    
"Alright let's try this again," their voice was determined now, "Gravescratch I'm going to need you to open wide and, keep your head level where it is because I'll need both servos for this."   
Sure enough they brought their other servo to hold the base of the probe in place where it was and began to pick at the edges of the obstruction. It was wedged in there fairly firmly but within a few kliks they'd found a point where it gave. Carefully inching it out, they let go of the probe to pick it up with two fingers and quickly place it into their other open servo before they dropped it.

 

Gravescratch looked a bit skeptical, but held still, deeming Sticks unlikely to cause any major harm. He'd humor this poor awkward thing. Having no gag reflex was probably going to come in handy.    
Forceps paused, something creaking ominously in their servos as they held it too tight, then deliberately relaxed and glanced over towards Sticks.  _.:That's all right. Not surprising. We'll keep your learning mostly observational for now, and move up those servo repairs. We should be able to bring you up to at least standard sensitivity, then we can eventually upgrade that. For now, try. He's durable enough, and patient if he likes you, which he seems to considering he's letting you handle him:. _   
Once the shard was out, Gravescratch shut his mouth, rocked his lower jaw back and forth in a strange motion that ground the sides of his teeth together. "Mm, there we are. My thanks. Now... something is not... quite..." he began, tilting his helm, his largest optic visibly trying to focus on Sticks' servos. It didn't work, he was a sighthound, not a look-at-things-up-close hound. Shrugging, he muttered "let me just check something", leaned forward, and took one of Sticks' servos carefully into his mouth. Which was considerably less wet than one might think- he'd evidently turned off his saliva glands somehow. Purring a deep, chesty growl, he mouthed ever-so-carefully at Sticks' servo, dentae touching but not even scraping his wrist, glossa curling carefully around two fingers, then spoke, completely clearly, with Sticks' servo still in his mouth. "Someone has done something to your plating."    
It wasn't a question.

 

Sticks winced at the statement. "C-correct. I, uhh...." they really couldn't hide it, could they, "I'm sorry if that was a little odd. I can't really hold onto some things that well."    
They supposed they might've wallowed in the self-pity a bit more if they didn't have their entire servo in another bot's mouth -served as a great, if a bit disturbing, distraction. They were hesitant to pull it out, too, would that be rude of them? They didn't know what constituted normal patient-medic etiquette, let alone with a patient who candidly grabs your entire servo with their mouth. At least Gravescratch didn't seem too judgmental. Then again, he wasn't the easiest to read. They decided to assume he wasn't asking for details and changed the subject, "h-how'd you end up with that shard stuck in there anyway? Seems like a tough place to get at."   
_.:Does he... do this to everybody he meets?:. _

 

 _.:He didn't do that to me. Good thing, too, I'd probably have stabbed him with something. That lack of violent responses will serve you well, hang onto that. And don't worry- if he meant to hurt you, you would already be bleeding profusely. He seems to forget how most people socialize sometimes. Or he temporarily stops caring. It doesn't matter:._   
Gravescratch tilted his helm slightly, shifting his mouth around Sticks' servo, but didn't let go. He was still puzzling this out. "Probably a strut shard from a turbofox. Tasty things, but the struts are durable, and if they snap they do so with a great deal of force."   
Forceps, deciding to rescue their apprentice, stepped closer and signed something out, translating it to Sticks via COMMs as they did. _"Suggest you not talk about eating living creatures with part of someone in your mouth."_   
The lanky mech scoffed lightly, but let go, two optics swiveling towards Forceps. "It wasn't _alive_ , I killed it before I ate it. I am not a savage. It would be hard for me to catch one and _not_ kill it, the neck snaps when you grab the helm at their top speed. A suitably clean death."   
_"Yes, yes, you're a mighty hunter. Don't chew my apprentice"_ Forceps scolded, and, clearly moving slowly on purpose, shoved Gravescratch's snout away from Sticks. The sighthound went with it, rolling entirely over until he was splayed on his side with his belly partly showing, looking up at Sticks and almost, almost purring. "Apprentice, hm? In just this, or in... _other_ matters" the word heavily tinged with suggestiveness "as well? Please do recall that my optics have infrared capabilities... I can see a blush regardless of paint coloration."

_.:This is what happens when you build something to sniff out secrets,:. _ Forceps, who was not blushing at all, definitely not showing just the tiniest shade of a blush, nope, complained.

 

 _.:You'd be surprised the kind of restraint you learn when you're tiny and completely unarmed:._ Sticks said, somewhat preoccupied with their now-freed servo. The bandages were pushed back, damp, and would need to be redone. They began unwinding it in earnest, absolutely not standing for the creeping 'it's dirty' feeling which slunk into the back of their mind. Mouths. Evidently nastier than worm-filled vents. Or perhaps Forceps's cleanliness was just rubbing off on them. They glanced over to the other medic in time to see them standing slightly put-off by Gravescratch's comment. Sticks could tell the patient was correct in his assessment from the way Forceps shifted their stance. They quickly finished unwrapping the bandage and slung it over one shoulder, out of the way. Apprentice huh, they liked the ring to that. _.:Never been called a real apprentice before:._   
They could play the part, they wondered if Forceps could too. _.:Apologies if this is too familiar but go along with it. Can't shame you if you look like you own it:._ They stepped over and leaned a casual forearm against Forceps's shoulder, looking Gravescratch directly in the optics, "So?"

 

Forceps probably would have been sputtering if their vocalizer had wanted to work, but they went with it, leaned into Sticks, and stared defiantly at Gravescratch. No shame. Flusterment, but no shame. This was- this was a good thing. _"Not your business, lens face"_ they scoffed, expanding the last two words with rapid flicks meant to indicate an irked tone, then -still moving more slowly than they usually would- came up close and shoved Gravescratch around slightly to get him into a different position. _"Hold still. Checking scars. No grabbing."_   
Huffing quietly, Gravescratch let himself be flipped onto his back, and arched his back slightly on command to give better access to a series of wounds on his belly. They were tucked up under his chassis plating somewhat, gash marks from something, likely Insecticon claws, that were healing and scarring but not quite finished. "Fine. If you try to tickle me, I will launch you across the room," he warned, drawing one hindleg up and quickly kicking the air, then settled himself and stayed still.   
_.:Simple. Run your fingertips along the wounds, gently. They'll be somewhat rough, but you need to check for unusually rough areas. That shouldn't cause him any pain, they shouldn't be sensitive at this stage. After, run your fingertips carefully on either side of each wound, check for heat, swelling, or bumps under the top layer that could indicate something healing abnormally. Then we'll apply an ointment to reduce scar formation. He needs his flexibility, and if we can treat a wound to reduce future scarring, we should. It's something you probably wouldn't have seen... field medics rarely have time for anything beyond keeping a patient alive, no regard for scarring unless it has potential to cause serious damage in future. Scarred organs and veins can tear eventually. This is less important. More like a comfort measure, but we have the resources, so we're doing it:._

 

Sticks slid off Forceps's shoulder to get a better look at the scarring, guilt rising inside them. They didn't quite know  _ what _ was normal for scars, as long as it wasn't leaking and didn't hurt, it flew.  They'd need to have a talk with the rest of the Choir, an apology of some sort for not being more observant- for not being better. For now they'd learn.  _.:I'll give it a try, can't say I'm going to be much use at this-not much feeling in my fingers. You think you could re-check afterwards?:. _ Sticks looked back at Forceps for a moment with a vaguely determined expression before moving closer to Gravescratch.    
"No guarantee this won't feel a little odd, but I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from flinging me into a wall," Sticks said warily. They reached their unbandaged servo over and slid it under the plating to feel the wound, notably using the side of their first knuckle. After a slow first-pass they bent over to get a look, checking for anything they'd recognize. It was remarkably clean, they supposed that was what happened in a real medbay but...  _.:Is it just me or does this look a little off-color:. _ they commed, frowning.

 

 _.:Try regardless:._ Forceps prompted, locking both servos around Gravescratch's forearm to keep him splayed out and properly exposing the scars, and also to hopefully keep his attention. Best not to have Sticks kick off their training by being kicked off. At the question, they stroked their way down his flank, attempting to keep him relatively calm, and crouched slightly to stare at the wound in question. Hm.   
_.:It is not just you. This is -and I am only touching this because it has clearly not spread, it is best not to touch odd surface textures unless you are confident they are harmless- probably a... ah, yes:._ they muttered, lightly stroking the area with two fingertips, then withdrew their servo and used it to lift the plating slightly instead. _.:This is technically a type of rust infection. It colonizes the latticework of healing wounds. In mechs with severely compromised immune systems, it can cause problems as it spreads into the frame, however it is largely harmless in anyone healthy. Mainly you only see it causing trouble when someone has been severely injured and the infection is therefore in a considerable portion of their frame to start with. He should be fine, we'll just have to keep monitoring him to be sure it doesn't spread. I'll get a sample, we can look at it under a microscope later, then you get this on him:._   
To Gravescratch, they signed _"One of these wounds has a very minor infection. Your immune system should handle it with no difficulty, but we will continue to monitor it. Hold still while I get a sample to show S-t-i-c-k-s."_

Gravescratch half-glared at the flat piece of metal used to scrape over the scar, more out of objection to the tool itself than due to any discomfort, then followed the tin of ointiment that Forceps handed over. Specifically, he was watching Sticks' servos again, half his audials pricked in evident curiosity. "Someone has done something they should not have done to your servos, little one."

  
  


Forceps had been in the middle of attempting to explain, via COMMs, diagrams, and colorful gestures, how what was currently a palm-sized piece of living metal in a closed jar was going to end up as Sticks' new servo sensors, but was distracted by a noise that, although they hadn't heard exactly, was familiar in tone and volume; a low, quiet whimper of someone in pain who was trying not to be noticed. Immediately going into "fix" mode, they stashed the datapads and jar in the nearest cabinet and shut it, keeping things out of the way, turning quickly to look over at the medbay door- and froze, servos flicking in a quick and untranslateable curse. This wasn't going to work out so well. 

 

Longrange was the source of the tiny, pitiful whimpering, and one look at them explained why- they'd evidently done  _ something _ they shouldn't have, probably something involving blunt trauma to their leg. They were- well, less limping and more unable to use their leg, their knee stuck slightly bent, the leg twisted under them to the point where their pede was just about sideways. Their outer thigh was badly dented, and it looked as though someone had wrenched their lower leg to the side- their knee joint was far beyond use. Energon was dripping down their leg from multiple points, their optics were wide in distress, and they were panting harshly through their vents with every limping step. Which didn't get any better when they saw Forceps. Despite only being upright due to support, they actually tried to turn and leave, servos skidding on Sharpshot's plating, squeaking quietly in dismay. "We- we can- can come back lat-  _ aah _ -"    
Sharpshot wasn't a huge fan of Forceps, but had no actual  _ problems _ with them. Nor were they for this "come back later" solution to Forceps being the only present medic. A dent or two could wait, this could not. This was to be fixed  _ now _ , or, at the very least, Longrange was going to get painkillers so they would stop  _ whimpering _ in a way that made Sharpshot want to murder something. 

Longrange was a tiny bot, the size of an average mech's arm, with no immediately present kibble aside from some structures along their legs that vaguely resembled the joints and flexors of Forceps' alt's anchor. It was usually their size that people noticed first, but a close second was their armor. They were a beautiful shade of light rose-silver-gold, and what little plating they had was etched, actually etched to a significant depth, with the etchings highlighted in silver. They would have looked fragile regardless, small and delicately built like some sort of sculpture, but the  _ etching _ \- no one did that on purpose, it left one's armor too fragile. Too vulnerable to everyday stresses, let alone to war, especially on someone that tiny. They had small, notch-edged winglets that were currently clamped to their back, and their scared-wide optics were a light silvery-blue. To anyone familiar with the role, their birth-purpose was clear; they were a pet. Not in name, they would have been referred to as a servant, but they were a  _ pet _ . They were a decoration for nobles, a status symbol, their alt presumably something useful to nobles. Explained the armor, they'd been made for style over substance.

Sharpshot, less so. He was patterned in dullish greys and blacks, good camo for the dead Cybertron, and despite being barely taller than Longrange he looked more durable. Still lightweight, but his armor was solid and covered more of his frame, especially his legs and around his chassis. He had several extendable antennae with thick sheaths at the bases, pedes padded with something that made his steps silent, and probably the strangest optic arrangement on the ship short of Gravescratch. Two unusually small optics, set further apart than normal, a dim color closest to orange, and a third optic set smack in the middle of his lower forehelm. The third optic was much larger than the others, and largely lacking in color other than 'glass' and a hint of blue. That optic was shut right now, though. That was his scope optic. To a medic, those optics made sense, and marked him as a sniper rifle. Not a rifle user, a sniper rifle himself. Hence the small size and confident, if currently agitated, stride.

 

Sticks followed Forceps with their optics and eventually saw the two minibots on their way in. They hurdled themself over the berth in their way and pushed past Forceps, a desperate, questioning frown on their face as they passed. They skidded to a stop in front of the two and bent down to get a better look at Longrange's wound. It looked  _ painful. _ They could see the energon trail lead in from the door.    
"Primus, what  _ happened, _ " Sticks said, the room could hear the empathetic pain in their voice, "come with me let's sort this out." They extended their servos to Longrange, seeing they were pretty well-entangled in Sharpshot's supporting grip, they couldn't just grab them. Longer legs, at least by a little bit, could get the bot up and onto the berth much quicker.  _.:What's going on Forceps?:. _

 

Longrange, already on edge, squeaked in quiet alarm at the approach of a stranger and tried to back up- an action which immediately drew a sharp cry of pain from them as they ran into the doorframe. Optics starting to white out, they clung tightly to Sharpshot for support and comfort, their one working pede skidding slightly on the floor as they tried to back away and escape.    
Sharpshot, fortunately, had enough composure left to register Sticks' tone and understand that they could probably help. Unfortunately, Longrange's panicked, pain-filled EM field and the  _ noises _ they kept making were rapidly draining Sharpshot's tolerance for  _ anything _ , and their voice was much sharper than they meant it to be as they tried to push past Sticks -who was several times their size- to get to a berth. "Falling crate.  _ Move _ ," he hissed, in no mood to even vaguely contemplate the thought of a stranger, a potential threat, lifting or even touching his delicate little Longrange.

Forceps' servos curled as every fragment of their coding -not just medical coding, social coding and basic empathy- screamed for them to  _ help _ , but they stayed back, knowing full well what would happen if they tried to get anywhere near Longrange.  _.:Sharpshot and Longrange. Sharpshot is extremely protective, Longrange is naive and has no experience with Decepticons or the world outside a nobles' apartment other than through news footage and propaganda. Longrange is convinced that I'm going to do something terrible to them and is looking for a new owner to tell them what to do, Sharpshot is trying very hard to keep them from ending up as someone's pet again. We need to get Longrange on a berth and sedated as soon as possible, but Sharpshot is unlikely to let you pick them up. You need to be talking to Sharpshot right now- see Longrange's optics? Bots with optics like that don't listen to reason, you aren't going to be able to calm them down. I can't get any closer or they're going to panic worse. Get Longrange up on a berth with Sharpshot next to them, preferably without upsetting Sharpshot too badly:. _

 

Sticks felt anger rise inside of them, the way Sharpshot held the other bot meant they couldn't get both of them up on the berth without risking making the injury worse. Slag. They were ready to shout, but volume wouldn't help the situation. _.:Can you prepare the sedative? I'm not sure how to dose a frame that small, staying out of Longrange's immediate vicinity might help too. I'll... see what I can do about Sharpshot:._   
They stood up, servos balled into fists. Every cable in their body was taut, tense- evidently they were more angry than they thought. _This is how people die. This is how you kill people. You think you can handle things but you can't. You_ can't. _You absolute fool._ They screamed at the bot from their mind, but couldn't speak the words for fear it'd send Longrage over the edge.   
"You're going to let the professionals handle this. You're going to get your friend up onto the berth and you're going to let me handle this," their voice came out low, anger more well-disguised than they'd expected but not hidden entirely, "Your pride is torturing them, _do you understand?_ " They began to lose control at the last few words, which came out louder than the rest. Luckily they managed to reign it in before they got to full volume, but cursed themself internally for the slip.

 

Even before Sticks said anything, Sharpshot was bristling, armor flaring as much as it could, already not liking Sticks' body language. Third optic snapping open wide and audibly focusing in what was, in snipers, very nearly a threat (that wasn't just his optic, that was his scope), he stretched up on tip-pede as much as possible, putting himself between Sticks and Longrange for all the fraction of good his frame would do against a hypothetical attack. And he evidently had no reservations about yelling. "That is what I am  _ trying to do _ ! I don't know who the slag you are or what you're going to do, but you are  _ in my way _ and I am  _ trying _ to get them to a berth so they don't have to  _ walk _ on that and maybe I can get them to calm down! You are in my way! You are not helping!  _ Move! _ " he snarled, unsheathing a dewclaw-like climbing hook in the wrist not holding Longrange, and sliced it at Sticks. He wasn't aiming for actual damage, but the sharp hook scored a clean line through paint, and Sharpshot would have taken advantage of that distraction if he could have.    
He couldn't, though, because Longrange instinctively backpedaled from the angry stranger, tried to put weight on their injured leg, outright screamed in pain, and collapsed, and Sharpshot's attention immediately went from challenging Sticks to cradling Longrange's frame. Something in his chassis making an ominous noise like a cannon charging to fire, Sharpshot dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms around Longrange, holding them close as they tried to burrow into his chassis to hide.

Hissing  _.:This is not the time to project your issues! We do not handle protective bots by yelling at them and frightening their charge!:. _ rather vehemently, Forceps slunk around to Sharpshot's field of vision, staying out of where Longrange could see. " _ That's S-t-i-c-k-s. They're my apprentice. They're learning. Forgive them. You know who I am, you know I can't touch Longrange. Let them help so Longrange doesn't have to make it to the berth. It's all right. _ "    
Sharpshot hissed and glanced back at Sticks, then, shoulders hunched, curled around Longrange in an effort to protect them, nodded exactly once and muttered "fine. slagger." just barely loud enough to be heard. But Sticks was going to have to lift both of them, he wasn't exactly letting go. At least this would probably work. The two of them weren't heavy, even combined.

 

Something inside Sticks snapped at Longrange's scream. Forceps's comm came as a sucker punch. Their anger- all their emotions were gone, no doubt stored somewhere in the back of their mind like a cyanide capsule ready for self-destruction. It was time to act now. "Try to keep their leg level and out of the way," their voice came out a low unaffected mumble. They scooped up the two minibots and  _ ran _ -more nimbly than Forceps expected- to a berth pushed up against a wall, close to the door but reasonably far away from the prep area, thinking they could pretty easily stand in the way of Longrange's view of Forceps. Quickly but gently putting down the two, they reached under the berth and jacked the front-bit up enough so that Longrange could sit somewhat comfortably until they were sedated.    
"Sharpshot I need you to keep their attention," Sticks said, not making optic contact. Now up close and not moving, they were able to survey the damage.  _.:Knee's definitely broken. Multiple possible fractures in the lower leg, pede looks half-crushed. Thigh damage looks surface level but there's likely internal leakage that needs dealing with. We'll need much more than a splint for this and long lasting sedative if we want to fix it all:. _ They moved up closer to Longrange's head, hoping to block their peripheral vision as they leaned over and stuck a servo behind their back.  _.:I need that dose Forceps. Do they have any needle aversions I have to worry about?:. _

 

Longrange squeak-whimpered and pawed at Sticks' chassis, leaving gold streaks from their fingertips- their systems were panicking enough that their paint nanites were starting to slough off. Sharpshot was starting to look like they'd walked past a spraycan right as it exploded from all the nanites rubbing off on him. The little telescope did their best to struggle loose of Sticks' hold, but failed completely, and ended up latched onto Sharpshot on the berth.

That shutdown from Sticks might not be a good sign, but it was safe to ignore for now, they'd focus on Longrange. Already prepping the sedative dose, Forceps crept up behind Sticks and pressed the little syringe into their servo, quickly stepping away to be sure they weren't visible.  _.:They don't like needles much, just get it over with, best thing to do here is get them unconscious as fast as we can to minimise stress and keep them from hurting themself struggling:. _

Whispering "it's okay, I have you, you're okay, I have you, it's okay" over and over, Sharpshot focused intently on Longrange until the sedative took effect and they stopped  _ whimpering _ , then, gently, uncurled them slightly and spread them out to make their leg easier to reach. Hunched in close, he curled against Longrange's chassis, armor bristled, looking thoroughly protective and bracing himself as firmly as he could against any efforts to move him. "There. Good. Now  _ fix them _ ," he snarled, one arm over Longrange's chassis, still petting their flank to try and calm their twitching.

_.:Sharpshot is protective and has good reason to be. We put up with him, we try to keep him calm, we explain what we're doing, and we do our jobs. As long as he doesn't get in the way, we don't try to move him. Now- first priority here is to clamp off those lines. Tiny bot like this can't afford to bleed for long:. _ Forceps sighed, moving up close now that Longrange was unconscious and couldn't panic about them, and began to work at detaching Longrange's thigh armor to get to the veins underneath.  _.:You aren't going to be much help with someone this small. Tiny work. Pet them and talk to Sharpshot, and watch what I'm doing:. _

 

Sticks sighed, as at last Forceps took over. They figured they'd be a little more annoyed with themself at not being able to help more if they could  feel anything. They slowly brought a servo to gently pet Longrange's helm, at last meeting optics with Sharpshot. Words lined up in their brain, forming neat, coherent sentences such as 'making a big deal of things in emergency situations is only going to hurt those you're trying to help' and 'taking things into your own servos is not only dangerous, but deadly.' They thought better of staying on that topic, though, lest he get even  _ more _ angry. They spent a few kliks silently thinking, staring. At last they turned back to look at Longrange's face. They still hadn't lost their nervous expression even while sedated. "First we're going to be taking off some plating to assess damage and stop the bleeding," Sticks said to the unconscious bot, "Once we've got a good idea of what the damage is we'll go from there."   
They began to examine the bot's plating. It had a kind of grotesque aestheticism to it, like art made from corpses. They wondered what Longrange's reaction would have been if their servos hadn't been wrapped- they had more in common than at first glance. "Does this happen often?" they said, addressing nobody in particular.

  
  


As the sedative sank in deeper and Longrange's frame lost awareness of its injuries, they relaxed further, the nervousness in their expression smoothing out into something more neutral. Their ventilations evened out, their helm fell to the side, and their pulserate began to lower, almost as if they were only sleeping. As Longrange calmed, Sharpshot relaxed as well, not pushing Sticks' servo away. Lying down alongside Longrange, they gave the mini a gentle hug, then glanced up at Sticks with a significantly less aggressive expression. They still looked pissed, though their field hinted that it was at something other than the people in the room. "They're fragile. They're far too fragile. They would have been delicate enough without  _ this _ . It's  _ genetic _ , too. Can't... can't replace their plating, their immune system thinks it's not supposed to be like that, and then it just hurts them while their frame etches their armor. Someone decided that them looking  _ pretty _ for their  _ owners _ was more important than them being able to protect their innards against damage."

_.:Sharpshot is a sniper rifle. A tool-alt, barely above disposable-class. Prone to panicking if they or another small bot is injured. Injured tool-alts in Autobot ranks were usually last in line for care, regardless of physical state, and couldn't expect rescue from captivity or emergency situations. I would have preferred they stay still and COMM us, but... their panicking is understandable. They don't handle Longrange being injured very well, either. Longrange is... worse than a tool-alt, they're a tool-alt made to be a pet for nobles. Called a servant, but... a pet. They weren't treated well. They're looking for an owner, essentially, Sharpshot is trying to keep people from taking advantage of them. So... much as I'd prefer they not act like this, I understand why they do, and I rather doubt we can change it. Not without extensive therapy. And it may be a good idea! Longrange is... far too easily manipulated, they benefit from someone who has enough fight to keep them safe:._   
Forceps could have done this blindfolded; they'd had an extensive degree of practice in removing ruined armor. Thigh plating first, uncovering the thick veins that fed most of the leg, and Forceps quickly shut them off with little clips to prevent any further energon loss, then began to take apart the structures of their lower leg. Most of this wouldn't be possible to fix in situ.

 

"That's... monstrous," Sticks said, imagining what it would be like to live that way.  _ No wonder _ the bot was so afraid, you don't get to properly process fear in a life as sheltered as that. Stroking a gentle finger along the top of Longrange's helm, they looked to Sharpshot. There was something a little off-putting about his presence on the berth. He was clearly still stewing and did not seem to like either of them. It would be better for everyone if he left, after all who would want to see their friend being operated on, and who could operate with that judgmental stare so close, but Forceps seemed to imply that would never happen. They only realized now he was probably somewhat like Salvo, someone who forgoes anxiety for anger, but much less concerned about his appearance to others. The only way to deal with angry Salvo, however, was to remind him that he was angry, which would make him bring himself down out of guilt. They couldn't imagine that would work here, though. You had to have a certain familiarity before you could suggest something like that and Sticks could pick up nothing but animosity from Sharpshot's frame.  _.:What's with guns and their anger issues...:. _   
They supposed he'd cool down in time and looked away, again remaining silent, choosing to focus instead on what Forceps was doing. They particularly noted the position of the tourniquet clips and how they took apart the leg, given the fragility of the plating.

 

Something in Sharpshot's expression flickered quick approval, and they glanced up at Sticks, then lightly nudged their servo with two fingertips. "They like if you stroke... right along here. It's a transformation seam. They're shy about it because their transformation is a bit disturbing to watch from close up. Face splits in half. Right along here..." he whispered, guiding their fingertips along a barely-visible seam down the center of Longrange's helm, then lower along a thin line that ran down the center of their face. Wanting to explain himself but unwilling to outright admit anything resembling wrongdoing, he sighed quietly and glanced up at Sticks again, optics beginning to soften a fraction. "Do you... know what their first reaction is when they're injured? Not this badly, but... every other time. They're afraid. Not of the pain, though they're... not terribly tolerant of that. It's because they're afraid that their injury will affect their appearance, their ability... will make them less of a tempting  _ servant _ . They're still... looking for an  _ owner _ . They don't know how to function on their own. They're used to being a  _ pet _ . If I didn't... keep them safe, they'd... probably have been assaulted a few times by now. Someone wouldn't even have to try to  _ manipulate _ them. You could pick them up and walk away, they'd go with it. I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want to do. I don't know if you'd hurt them if I gave you the chance. I can't risk it."

_.:Other guns I don't know. This one, simple- he's a tool-alt. Incapable of operating on his own. He's been treated like an object for a significant portion of his life. Most bots who are treated like that respond one of two ways; either they accept it, like Longrange has, or they take Sharpshot's route and get very defensive. He does seem to be warming up to you, I'd say:. _   
A piece of plating snapped along an etching line as Forceps eased it free, and Forceps sighed quietly, showing the line to Sticks.  _.:Fractured along the etching mark. Too thin. They'd be in much better shape if they hadn't been genetically modified like this. Granted, they'd still be severely injured, but... much less so:. _ they explained, then paused, repositioned Longrange slightly, and glanced to Sharpshot. Hm. Wiping their servos clean, they gestured quickly to get everyone's attention, signing slowly to be sure Sharpshot's odd optics could pick up on it.  _ "Sharpshot, you are very tense and it's possible Longrange is picking up on that. You need to calm down. Let Sticks help with that. They aren't going to try and use you. You're all right." _   
At a tiny nod from Sharpshot, Forceps gestured slightly to the sniper, then went back to their work as they COMMed Sticks again.  _.:Pet him. Upper and middle back are probably good. If he relaxes enough, the trigger on his lower back will raise slightly, try palming that. He'll never admit to it, but tool-alts do respond well to physical contact, especially around their alt's controls. It's good for them both if you can get Sharpshot calmed. If you aren't comfortable with petting him, do tell me, but it would be good if you tried:. _

  
  
  


Sticks's optics widened at the idea. They resisted the urge to stare at Forceps with the mild disbelief they felt. They could certainly  _ try _ to calm Sharpshot down physically, but they weren't sure they would succeed. "That's valid -admirable even," Sticks said as they gently stroked Longrage the way Sharpshot had shown them, optics trained on the unconscious bot's face, "I am Sticks, formerly Praxis of Iacon. Ex- archivist, ex-Autobot, current medic in training. I've never wanted to use someone that way in my life, nor do I ever intend to, though words rarely mean much these days..." Here they looked Sharpshot in the optics again. Not shying away this time, they moved their servo to his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "One of the things I learned quickly when I took up duty as a medic was that if I took things into my own servos without knowing what to do, people would die. Granted, there were no other options at the time -there were no medics, not like here. " They paused and gathered themself again, feelings began to leak out of the barrier their mind had erected, "Too many friends have died under my inexperienced servo for me to stand by and watch someone refuse ready help to try to fix things on their own." They took a shuddering intake, finally having said what was on their mind since the beginning.   
Sticks looked away, realizing that wasn't exactly a comforting thing to hear coming from a medic's mouth, "That's not reassuring, is it. I got better- I had a lot of time to do so. Regardless, Forceps really knows what they're doing if you're reasonably not sold on me. Anyway, you know who I am now, I'll prove to you- and to Longrange- that I mean neither of you any harm."

 

Sharpshot stared up at Sticks the whole time with those odd little optics, the lenses flickering to focus on their face, then in-vented deeply and nodded once. "Okay. I'm... okay. I-I hear you. Okay," he whispered, and slowly went limp under Sticks' servo, all the defiance bleeding out of his frame. He didn't look aggressive any more. He looked... small, and vulnerable, and scared, focused on Longrange, doing their best to comfort a bot who was too deeply sedated to be aware.

_.:There you go, that's good:. _ Forceps praised softly, and made a quick gesture with one servo, pointing the attention to Longrange's leg. Specifically, the strut, which was now thoroughly exposed.  _.:Dislocated. Good news- the knee struts aren't broken. Plenty else is, but the strut itself, I just need to:. _ a pause, and a thoroughly nasty wrench-snapping noise, then Forceps slowly flexed what was left of the disassembled knee. It slid smoothly.  _.:There. Next... soft structures. Soft parts are minimal in the lower leg. Veins and what little muscle cabling is here, then we work on the supporting plates. They're going to need some healing time, but... I can fix this. They'll be all right. The thigh, there's cut muscle cables there, those need repairs, then we'll have to fix this armor. With Longrange's specific plating, it works better to put their old plating back when possible, we unfortunately don't have the equipment to perfectly mimic the etching on their old plating against something new. Now... check Sharpshot over, with him relaxed. Explain what you're doing, but... check the rotations of his shoulders, feel down his sides for inflammation. If a crate fell on Longrange, that means Sharpshot probably moved it off, and he's too small to be doing that. See if he'll let you check his thighs and knees as well, but... mostly just check his shoulders and flanks. He should be fine with that, now:. _

  
  


Sticks shuddered at the noise of Forceps righting Longrange's knee strut. They'd never get used to that sound. "Good news, Sharpshot," they said, wearing a slight smile, "they're going to be fine. They'll need some time to heal but considering they managed not to break a strut, it's better than we'd thought. Now, Forceps is telling me you probably strained yourself during the rescue." They began to move around to the other side of the berth, where Sharpshot was crouched,  _.:I'm going to move over to the other side so he doesn't lose ready contact with Longrange. I imagine he's still got some low-level paranoia. Let me know the instant it looks like they're waking up, I'll do my best to get over there and block line of sight when that time comes:. _   
Sitting down on the edge of the berth now, careful to be well out of Forceps's way, Sticks calmly addressed Sharpshot "You don't have to move from where you are but it'd be prudent to check your shoulders and flank-cables for any signs of strain. We can examine your arms one at a time." They reached out a servo to the other bot, "if my read on you is right you're one to hide your own hurt. It'd make things easier for all of us" they nodded towards Longrange, "if you let yourself be unashamed about your pain. If it's worth anything you've more than proven yourself already. Tell me when and where it hurts."

 

_.:I fully intend to have them on a cot in a private room and be far away when they wake up. Don't need them panicking and ruining all my work:. _   
Sharpshot paused, optics flicking as he assessed his own frame, then hissed between his dentae and went rather tense all over for a moment. " _ Ow _ . That is likely. That crate probably weighed more than I did. Everything aches, just... look for it yourself. I'm done," he muttered, limp once more, not even twitching. He'd lost his adrenaline surge and was exhausted now. His shoulders moved smoothly, if stiffly, not quite damaged but certainly strained. Beyond that, he winced at every touch to his sides and back, and hissed sharply at a few specific spots. "Aaah. Primus. Ow," he muttered, then shifted, put too much weight against his leg, and hissed considerably louder in clear regret.    
Forceps paused again and sighed, once again cleaning their servos before beginning to sign. Best not to sign at someone with fingers covered in their friend's energon.  _.:You've probably minorly strained just about every cable involved in that lifting motion. Try not to exert yourself. We'll give you some painkillers once Longrange is settled." _   
_.:That large cabinet next to where Acus likes to hide has a couple of cooling blankets. Grab those. The coldness will help reduce inflammation. There's little we can do for strained cables. Get that scanner I found for you out of subspace and make sure he doesn't have any deep internal injuries, but considering that his joints all move acceptably well, he probably hasn't broken anything. Keep a servo on him just to be sure he stays calm:. _

 

Sticks sighed and gave Sharpshot a gentle pat on the helm, "rest, if you can find the mind to." They jogged over to the cabinet, peeking into a few places before they spotted the blankets. Pulling a small one out, they speedwalked back and laid it on the berth nearest where everyone else was gathered. The blanket had enough mesh still to drown the minibot, they remarked internally as they carefully unfolded it to a manageable size. Once satisfied, they turned around to Sharpshot and gently laid the blanket on top.    
"This should start working pretty quick, let me know if it gets too cold," Sticks said as they pulled the scanner from subspace. They'd seen Forceps use it once, how hard could it be to operate? It took a minute to figure out the controls but by the time they got it on, they had a good feel for it.  _.:I thought I saw something when he stood, could be a small stress fracture from the weight of the crate:. _ They scanned Sharpshot incrementally, picking up and replacing the blanket. Sure enough it pinged on one of his legs. They turned the device's monitor to Forceps.  _.:Looks like a brace and crutch solution to me, what do you think?:. _

September 4, 2018

  
  


Sharpshot gave a quiet noise of acknowledgement, now pressed as tightly to Longrange's side as he could get without being in the way, optics shut and servos tightly gripping their plating. It only served to make him look even smaller, and Longrange by association. This berth had been made to accommodate patients up to a fairly large size, so the two minibots looked even tinier than usual, curled up together on it. Sharpshot wouldn't have liked the description, but they both looked rather pitiful. Especially with the energon trail leading to the berth and still under Longrange's leg.    
Forceps paused to scuff the back of their servo against Longrange, checking to see whether their remaining nanites were still sloughing, then gave a quick glance to the screen of the scanner.  _.:Agreed. May be lightweight enough to get by without a crutch. Upside of small patients. See this? They aren't shedding nanites any more. That's good- means their systems aren't shocked any more, now that I've got everything calmed down. That nanite shedding is rare to see now, even in stressed bots, because most people's systems have learned to deal with stress. Longrange has been relatively sheltered, they still have honest panic responses. It's almost refreshing. But mostly it's just pitiful:. _

Eventually, Longrange's leg was back together, braced properly, bandaged thoroughly, and no longer bleeding. Sharpshot had a brace on his leg, also. When Forceps lifted the two of them, Sharpshot hung limp and still, almost alarmingly limp if his optics hadn't been open.  _.:Some people are like this after adrenaline surges. Dear Primus... the weight difference between these two. Sharpshot is what a minibot ought to feel like- lightweight, yes, and not very densely built, but solid enough. You should examine him- he's an amazing anatomy model. Longrange... just too light:. _ they sighed, walking into one of the private rooms, and gently set the bundle of minibot down on a berth- just in time, as Longrange started to stir. A flurry of signing to Sharpshot, a single nod in response, and Forceps quickly backed away, gesturing towards Sticks.  _.:Go on- go talk to them, explain once they're conscious, and get a look at Sharpshot. You can watch how his fuel tank works if you part the cables right, just takes a few fingertips. Don't mention my name, just say 'we' repaired them. You'll do fine:. _ they reassured, and shut the door, leaving Sticks with the two minibots. They were hardly in any danger.

 

Sticks took a few kliks to assess the situation. Two minibots, both completely defenseless at the moment, one of whom last saw them as a threatening stranger and could potentially hurt themself again if they weren't careful. It was time to be strategic. Standing over Longrange was not an option, they should wake up to their partner's face if anything, but Sharpshot wasn't in nearly the shape for that. Tired enough to look like a doll, vulnerable but conscious, he was probably also not feeling some exploration. Forceps had piqued their interest, sure, but they couldn't imagine watching defenselessly as someone stuck a servo in their guts.  _.:An interesting thought but rummaging around in someone's insides while they're awake and unable to do anything about it is not how you make friends:. _ Sticks said, the slightest judgement coming out over the comm.    
They sighed and walked over to sit on the berth on Sharpshot's side, he at least didn't seem to mind them. They couldn't help but remember waking up to Salvo gently humming a tune they had tried to teach him. It was a song about fleeting happiness, originating from some of the more provincial areas of Cybertron. Silence hung uncomfortably in the air-  _ that _ was not something particularly comforting to wake up to. They could try it. They began to hum the song, carefully watching Longrange for any signs of disturbance. For good measure they gently took both minibots's servos in one of theirs.

  
  


Was Sticks going to do fine? Debatable. Was Sticks alone going to do better than Forceps also in the room to complicate things? Yes. With that in mind, Forceps began to clean up, but made sure not to do anything that couldn't immediately be dropped if Sticks needed to be rescued. It would hopefully be fine.  _.:Mm, your choice. But Sharpshot is definitely awake enough to object, he's a defiant one. Exhaustion or not. And he rather likes it:. _   
  
Sharpshot gave a soft, inarticulate noise, blinking up at Sticks, then curled in and pressed his face to Longrange's collar plating. He was still able to move, evidently. A slightly louder mutter of "thank you", and he squeezed Longrange tight, trying to keep them calm as they stirred and began to look slightly more conscious.    
Whining quietly, Longrange stirred and curled against the familiar frame, nuzzling into Sharpshot, their servos sliding up over his frame. A moment later, their servos slipped between some of the cables in his sides, sliding in past their wrists, and they gripped two servofuls of the muscle cabling there. The softest noise slipped from their vocalizer, a tiny, shaky whimper that only eased when Sharpshot squeezed them in response, and they slowly opened their optics. "Nnh... 'Shot? 's it-" they spotted Sticks and squeaked in quiet fright, flinching, but Sharpshot held firm, and Longrange relaxed after a moment more. "...oh. I'm... oh, y- y'kay?"    
"Fine. We're both okay. They had to fix your leg, but you're okay... it's all right. That's Sticks. They helped," Sharpshot whispered, then lifted his helm slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Get blankets."    
Longrange was trembling now, but it seemed to be a result of the cold more than anything. Their optics were still wide, looking up at Sticks, but they weren't trying to hide or get away. Just clinging to Sharpshot, as tightly as their little arms could, servos buried deep in flank cables and holding tight. Not that Sharpshot seemed to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

_.:I... see. Longrange is more awake now, they've got both servos in Sharpshot's frame. I think I understand what you mean now. Still... that can't be comfortable:. _ Sticks nodded briskly in response to Sharpshot's request and continued to hum as they got up from the berth. They walked over to the wall of cabinets and paused for a moment, they'd seen Forceps take a blanket out of one of these before- but which one. It took a minute to find where they were stashed. It was in the midst of folding the blanket to be minibot sized when a vision of Longrange trembling at their approach flashed before their optics. They stopped humming in the middle of a verse and paused mid-fold. They could feel their face heat up- they'd never thought of themself as  _ scary _ before. It felt... bad. It felt wrong. They were fine with being disliked, different people different opinions -but feared? That was... That was their issue, they wouldn't make Longrange deal with their problems. Their memory shot out the sound of the little bot screaming in pain after their blunder- just for a split-klik. They felt their optics begin to burn.  _ Primus _ this was unprofessional wasn't it. They tried their best to clean up and finished folding the blanket.

Sticks turned around and jogged back to the berth, holding the blanket to their chassis to try to warm it up a bit beforehand. They took a deep intake before trying to speak again, "You lost quite a bit of energon, Longrange, no wonder you're so cold." They tried to put on a smile as they faced the tiny bot and slowly but purposefully draped the blanket over them, "you also had a pretty nasty-looking injury, but it's all clean and bandaged up now. You'll definitely need extra bedrest and some crutches but everything will be okay."   
Sticks crouched down to be optic-level with Longrange. "I've..." another wave of self loathing washed over them. They couldn't keep up their smile for a moment but reclaimed it as soon as they could, "I've been told I'm a good heater. I can lay there if you think you'd like some extra warmth."   
Now that they thought about it their chassis was heating up again. They tore themself away from their feelings long enough to get a read on them- just how deep the saddening knell rang. At least it could warm up Longrange faster if they could stand being that close to this monster.

 

Longrange peeped softly as the blanket settled over them, relaxing considerably, and offered Sticks the tiniest smile. "Thank you. Are..." a pause, the tiny bot pushing themself up slightly, looking vaguely concerned, "are you okay? Do you- do you want me to do anythi- mmph."    
Sharpshot firmly covered Longrange's mouth with one servo, then moved it up to stroke their helm instead, cradling them close. "No. You are not going to offer to do anything for people. You are going to rest," he ordered softly, and, petting Longrange's helm, glanced up at Sticks. "Little one, do you want Sticks to give us some extra warmth? I'm not going to tell you what I think until I hear your opinion, I want to be sure it's  _ your _ choice," he whispered, massaging the back of Longrange's neck, and purred quietly as he waited for an answer. Best to make sure Longrange was making their own choices, not making the choices they thought they were supposed to make. Hard to tell with this little one.    
In complete contrast to before, Sharpshot's voice was soft, soothing, and gentle, quietly affectionate on the nickname. It was absolutely precious. Sharpshot would never, never admit to that.    
Longrange blinked a couple of times, still trying to decide what to do, what was wanted, then went with what they hoped was the best solution. Something was wrong with Sticks, they knew that much. Sticks was some kind of upset.  _ Guilty _ . What was that? Where had that- oh, goodness. "Yes. I- please. If- if you want? Yes. You... I-I guess... you- you seem nice, I think? I'm not... not sure. I wasn't... I-I don't remember earlier. Sorry. I... pain is, uh... I-I don't do so- so well. I've... never... actually..." they whispered, peeking under the blankets at all the bandaging, and shivered as they continued, "...I've never been hurt that badly. I. Ohh, goodness," they whispered, shivering,, but began to relax slightly as they felt Sticks press against their back. Sticks was warm. This was nice.

 

Sticks was silent for a few minutes, taking that time to compose themself again. Longrange seemed to have forgiven them... When their thoughts began to act orderly again, they strayed to Forceps -they way they froze when Longrange walked in, their occasional comments about being glad when patients weren't afraid of them. This is what they meant. The horrible feeling that you're  _ hurting _ someone, something so antithetical to what medics stood for. Sticks couldn't handle it, they doubted Forceps took it lightly. Under the surly exterior, Stick could tell, they cared very deeply for the wellbeing of others. Yet  _ Sticks _ was the one to be forgiven.    
They would talk about this... later. Sticks realized they'd been silent for too long- neglected their patients. They took a deep intake and let it out slow, focusing once again on their job. "I-I'm sorry, I'm here for you. If there's anything I can get you just let me know. And-ahh..." Stick said, a little sheepishly, "don't worry about being nice to me. Focus on yourself."   
With that, they smiled and put a gentle servo on Longrange's helm, "You were very brave Longrange, making it all the way here. You've still got some bravery left to go -healing is a long process after all- but the worst of it's over. And Sharpshot, too, but he already knows how brave he is I think." They paused to glance at Sharpshot, giving the tiniest nod, "You've got a good friend to take care of you, there."

  
  


Longrange peeped a very soft "oh", looking honestly confused, then smiled at the mention of Sharpshot. Squeezing him tighter, they nuzzled into him again and made a little click-click-click noise that was what passed for a purr in a bot with no engine, field shimmering  _ affection/trust/welcome _ . "He is. He- he keeps- he keeps trying to  _ fight _ people for me. Help me figure out how- how to... everything. I-I still don't think I was made to do much, but... I know how to do some things now. I'm... I'm not as confused. Thank you, Sharpshot, you're- you're sweet," they squeaked, then giggled slightly, face still pressed right over his spark. "I'm sorry I tried to teach you to read off 'pads you couldn't see on."    
"It- it was appreciated regardless," Sharpshot muttered, patting Longrange's -whatever was in reach, turned out to be their thigh- and trying to pretend that he wasn't blushing furiously. It took a heavy blush to be visible on his camo-patterned faceplates, but it was  _ there _ . Looking as though any further words had a decent chance of degrading into sputtering, Sharpshot did his best to bury his face in the top of Longrange's helm, still blushing, and said absolutely nothing. His EM field, though, pulsed a mixture of  _ care/affection/warmth/thanks/embarrassment _ made slightly strange by the  _ aggressive _ feeling of it. It was a bit like someone shoving a love note at someone else and then running away, except Sharpshot was held too tightly to run, and therefore continued to shove emotions. Longrange, giggling quietly against his chassis, was evidently somewhat used to this.

A minute or two later, Sharpshot glanced up at Sticks, still blushing, not  _ quite _ making optic contact. "Could you. Ah. Could you leave? They're not shaking any more, and I... want to say some... things. Better said out loud."    
Forceps, with perfect timing, chose that space in time to comm Sticks once more.  _.:I don't hear screaming, so I assume all is going well. The cabinet with the blankets has an electric blanket in there somewhere, I'd suggest giving that to them. Another of the cabinets has some small energon cubes, Longrange should drink most of one and Sharpshot should probably have the rest. If neither of them is in any trouble, do you want to:. _ a short but noticeable pause  _.:come out here and discuss this? These two can be... somewhat difficult patients. Not so much physically as emotionally:. _

  
  


By the time Sharpshot addressed Sticks, they were already beginning to feel more than a bit out of place and took the cue with relief. They nimbly pushed themself off the berth and put up a 'one-moment' finger to Sharpshot. Luckily they'd spotted the energon cubes before and managed to deliver one -"drink up, doctor's orders."- and the electric blanket -hastily piled within reach if they needed it- and get out before anything more was said. As the door closed behind them, they leaned against the nearest wall, thoroughly exhausted. When they spotted Forceps, they couldn't bring themself to run, but managed a leaden-pede walk towards them. A brief thought for appropriate workplace relations disappeared in smoke as Sticks grabbed Forceps into a tight hug, burying their head in the crook of their neck and making sure to keep their servos away from risky places.    
Sticks opened their comms for a few kliks and closed them again, unable to properly phrase what they were thinking. They loosened their grip for a moment. They opened comms again and were quiet for a few more kliks still before they began  _.:I've never felt... scary before. Not in my entire life. It's... awful, like you're some monster:. _ They paused, again attempting to put their thoughts in order,  _.:You... you feel that way too, don't you. Way, way too often for a medic. You don't deserve to feel like that. Not around people you're trying to help:. _ (edited)

  
  


Forceps, ready to go straight into medic-mode, managed an awkward-sounding squawk before their vocalizer shut off. Hm. They'd been right about Sticks not doing so well, evidently. Minorly at a loss for how to help, Forceps settled for hugging Sticks back, relaxing slightly into them, and waiting, quietly hoping that Sticks would be able to explain. An attempt at reassurance rose in their mind at the first sentence, and they started to pet Sticks' back, but stopped again when things went in entirely an unexpected direction. This- this wasn't supposed to be about  _ them _ , it was about Sticks! Sticks was the one whose first 'real' patient (something beyond the usual checkups and minor bumps) had tried to hide from them. Forceps' first patient had been a very large cargo carrier who'd been too badly concussed to feel much of anything and probably wouldn't have been afraid of Unicron Himself.    
They intended to say something like that. Intended to redirect things entirely.    
They didn't.(edited)

_.:It... it is hard, isn't it? And it's not... it's different than when you try to be intimidating. I've... scared people before, on purpose. So they wouldn't attack me or try to hurt a patient, mostly. Once or twice because it was the only way they'd respect me enough to come in for followups. And I do try to be... some level of intimidating with new people. Old habit. Keeps me safe. But it's... it's satisfying, when you intimidate someone on purpose. Less so when someone you've just met, someone you could lift with one servo and probably wouldn't hurt even if they were trying to punch you in the face, looks at you and... actually, literally expects to be brutally murdered or worse. Longrange... genuinely thought I was going to try to kill them, when we met. I'd... like to point out to them that someone that murderous could hardly stay on this ship for long without being discovered. But it's... it's not their fault. They were raised not to question anything, to be a-a pliant little tool, they've only ever seen Decepticons in Autobot propaganda. And that... that makes it worse. It's like scaring a child. And I don't for the life of me know how not to. Don't think there is a way not to, until they learn. It's not like I have anything to talk to them about anyway:. _   
Exhaustion weighing them down for a moment, they put all their weight against Sticks, then shook themself out of it and leaned back slightly.(edited)

_.:This isn't what I wanted to talk about. This is about you. You did... mostly well, considering. Please try not to yell at patients we're trying to calm down. Even when they aren't helping. We only yell at the ones who aren't helping when it might make them stop not helping. Sharpshot, Gravescratch, and a few others, we do not yell at, ever, they respond to a confrontation with defiance. Longrange... the good news is, now that they aren't afraid of you any more, you can do just about whatever you want to them. Please don't. Try to run things through Sharpshot first, he's... acting as Longrange's permissions filter for now:._  
Realizing that they were hugging in the medbay and it was Unprofessional and would also make Forceps seem considerably less respectable if they were caught, Forceps leaned back a bit further, almost letting go- then changed tactics, crouched slightly, and lifted Sticks, one arm around the backs of their thighs, supporting them halfway draped over Forceps' shoulder. A quick-as-possible-with-cargo trot to the door of Forceps' room, then Forceps locked it behind the both of them, realized what they were doing, coughed lightly through their vents, and carefully, gently, set Sticks back on their pedes. _.:Ah. Change in venue. Seemed. Best:._   
Primus. Time for a topic change. Now. As fast as possible. Something thoroughly distracting from their own vulnerability. _.:Did you ever burn off that excess charge like I recommended?:._   
Was the suggestive servo gesture necessary? Not in the slightest. Did it help distract Sticks? Pit yes.

  
  


Sticks reeled on their pedes, only partially from the newly-reintroduced concept of gravity. They were not a particular fan of being picked up unexpectedly but Primus forbid they were seen having a moment in the middle of the medbay. They stepped back a bit to try to regain their balance but could only really catapult themself into a huddled ball on the ground near where Forceps stood. Head-in-servos, they leaned the slightest bit into Forceps's leg. They were heating up. Again. Their face flushed behind their fingers. "N-no," they whimpered, "of course not. It's-I've. Everything is overwhelming." They sighed, trying to blow off some of the steam that was building inside them, "kick a bot while they're down, huh, that's cruel. -Primus I'm going to fry myself."    
It took a few moments for them to properly organize themself again, at least enough to compose full sentences. Not enough, notably, to calm their raging blush. "I haven't gotten the chance to. Haven't found the proper state of mind. Y-your point?" Here they looked accusingly up at Forceps, a pitiable, exhausted tinge to their expression.

 

Whoops.    
Well, at least Sticks was distracted from Forceps' emotions. Success. Mostly.    
Still not sure what to do, Forceps lowered their servo to gently stroke Sticks' helm, trying to offer something calming, and crouched to better meet their optics. And, hm, enjoy the raging blush and heat in their frame. Evidently Sticks had some feelings of their own to work through. Distracting ones.  _ Perfect _ , no one to poke at Forceps' feelings. Now to sort out Sticks.    
Optics glinting, Forceps gently placed a servo under Sticks' chin, tilting their helm up, and leaned in to lightly nuzzle their cheek. Bold, but... probably the right trick to use here.  _.:Would you rather we do something about that instead of pondering each others' emotions? My offer still stands... I am entirely willing. And I can be... very distracting. Here-:. _   
Standing up, Forceps moved over to sit on their berth, relaxed, leaning back slightly, and... attempted to be sexy. Hopefully it would tempt Sticks in closer. Leaning back further, they parted their legs, tilted their helm, and offered Sticks a little smile, purring softly to them.  _.:Come on. Come up here and be distracted. Or... come here and we can do something else, you look as though you could use some form of affection or another, I'm open to all of them:. _

 

Sticks was still attempting to recover from Forceps's display of affection. They traced an absent-minded finger along their chin where Forceps had touched. "I-I..." they stopped.  _ Say it! _ their mind screamed,  _ say yes damn you! _ They uncurled and sprawled out awkwardly on the floor. If they were going to do this, they'd do it calm...ish. It didn't really work too well, having wheels on your back meant a weird angle when you tried to lay down that way.  _ I gotta take care of myself. Doctor's orders... Forceps's orders... _ they thought and turned to look at Forceps up on the berth. They... seemed to be open to trying something. The thought crossed their mind that Forceps was almost doing  _ too much _ for them. They felt the deep need to give back. They would-or they'd try to. They'd prove to Forceps they were more than just a feckless resource-sink.   
Sticks let that thought fill their mind, bathing in electrifying determination that almost covered their fluster, almost. They rolled back and flipped forward into standing position. They looked at Forceps, firey optics surrounded in a fierce blush that hadn't seemed to go away. With focused steps, they walked over to the berth. Suddenly the fire drained from their face, replaced with a slightly-concerned neutral expression as another thought occurred to them, "We're still on duty, what if something happens?"

 

Forceps made a bit of a face, then flared their winglets out to the sides, flat against their back, and snuggled down into the blankets, getting comfortable and gesturing to Sticks. _.:If an emergency comes in, I get to practice working on patients while distracted, you... are not currently required and can therefore stay back here and masturbate. Or wait for me. I've worked with a missing leg and the stump still bleeding, I can work while turned on. Come here:._ they ordered, gesturing firmly, and patted their thighs insistently. Once Sticks was in reach, they set both servos on Sticks' hips, stroking lightly with their thumbs, and looked the smaller bot up and down. _.:Just to be clear... you can refuse me at any point. I will understand, and there will be no consequences. I will continue to give you the best education I can regardless. However... I would very much like this. And I think you would as well. Your frame would certainly like this. So... why don't you tell me what you like? No need to be shy. I'm open to most kinks:._   
Now... what could they do here? What would get the best response from Sticks? Forceps knew what their own frame liked- mostly anything that involved their servos. But they'd focus on Sticks first. Maybe, hm- may as well take Gravescratch's joking (possibly joking) suggestion and teach Sticks a few things _here_ as well. Sounding? Probably get them some good reactions. Mm, maybe not the first thing to mention... too much. Sticks... didn't exactly seem like the most experienced bot. In most things other than desperately trying to survive.

 

Sticks gave a short sigh, they definitely couldn't pull out the big guns the first time. Plus, they weren't really sure they could do justice to the old cybertronian sex songs they'd heard. They'd have to practice, somewhere soundproof hopefully. They fondly remembered the time they'd gotten it to work once and got almost excited enough to throw off their mood... almost. They were getting distracted. They drew a thoughtful finger across their chin. "I'm... ahh, nothing particular comes to mind but to be perfectly honest Forceps I'm already horny," Sticks said, affably. It had been the face-touching. They climbed onto the berth, letting Forceps guide them to where they wanted to be, and slid a servo down to pop their hatch. They paused mid-shift of their weight. They couldn't quite-their bandaged fingers were slipping off the mechanism, which, to nobody's surprise, seemed to be stuck anyway from disuse. They frowned, sexual frustration becoming actual frustration, and, in a fit of anger, bit down into their bandages to rip them off.    
It... only sort of worked. Enough to expose a couple fingers at least, amidst a large volume of displaced mesh. Enough to do the job. With a single aggressive action, they flicked open the mechanism. Out flopped a less-than-flaccid spike, longer than one would expect.

 

 _.:Oh for- I could have done that for you, hold still,:._ Forceps complained, and, distracted, gripped Sticks' wrist to undo the bandages. The same thing on the other side, then they set the bandages aside and lightly petted Sticks' fingertips for a moment. _.:You have something to look forward to when you get medic-strength nerve upgrades. I have more sensors in my servos than I do in my interface equipment. And that means...:._   
Purring lightly, they released Sticks' servos, gripped their hips instead, and tugged them up a bit further, leaning in to nuzzle their cheek against the offered spike. At the same time, they trailed two fingertips softly up the underside of Sticks' spike, the other servo creeping down from their aft to rub at the cover over their valve. Forceps didn't flick the mechanisms open, but they did rub over the latches, wordlessly asking for access to Sticks' valve. _.:I can... get quite the thrill out of just touching a partner like this, feeling the energy against my fingertips, and my equipment doesn't tend to respond until my servos have had enough attention. So... I think I would like to play with your spike, suck you off, maybe... see what sorts of noises you make with a finger or two in your valve, bring you to overload once, and then... show you what I like, once you've overloaded once and won't be impatient. Relax:._   
Vents humming softly, they took the head of Sticks' spike into their mouth, suckling gently, and bobbed their helm slightly to encourage them slightly deeper. _.:You may thrust if you would like to, but gently. Touch as you would like. I... am going to enjoy this:._  
Optics dimming slightly in pleasure, they continued to stroke the shaft of Sticks' cock with one servo, mostly with their fingertips to savor the conductivity, and firmly palmed their valve cover. They, mm... they could do this for quite awhile, if Sticks had the patience. Forceps doubted they did. That was all right. _.:This spike of yours is promising:._

 

Sticks responded immediately to Forceps's touch, their spike hardening almost violently. Their whole frame tensed and let out a hot exhaust, humming low in anxious pleasure, desperately, desperately trying not to discharge so soon -they were better than that. But  _ Primus _ it had been a while. They managed to stave off a first wave of ecstasy in a herculean feat of determination. "F-fff-" they tried to vocalize but were stopped by more higher-pitched moans escaping from their mouth. Their internal fans were going so fast both bots could hear them -not that the fans were doing much good. They figured they'd have overheated by now on the sand planet.   
_.:Y-you plan too much... Calculating-:. _ Sticks's comm was cut short by another wave of pleasure-another barely-controlled hum.  _.:Calculating even in the berth:. _ They slid a servo down around their hips and touched their fingertips to Forceps's face ever-so-gently. Their optics glowed softly as they traced a finger around the edges of their helm. They couldn't do much from their angle, encouraging displays of affection would have to do until they found their opening.

_.:Mm, that's odd. I was getting the impression you liked:._ a quick squeeze to Sticks' spike _.:hearing what I'm going to do with you. Or is it just what I'm doing right now that you like? Because I'm certainly enjoying this. And you are... beautifully turned on, aren't you? That's entirely the point of this. Overload whenever you need to, Sticks. You taste good already. I would like to taste the rest of you:._ they purred, bobbing their helm to take more of Sticks' spike into their mouth, and sucked more firmly in the same motion as they squeezed their servo again. _.:Overload for me, Sticks, and... open up for me? Let me stroke your valve, press my fingers into you, stroke your inner walls and your node and spread your calipers... let me make you feel good:._   
Vents purring, they pulled their helm back slightly, laving their glossa against Sticks' transfluid slit, and leaned slightly into the petting. They liked that.

 

Sticks arched backwards, feeling themself barely balancing on the edge of infinity. They smiled, Forceps definitely was talkative weren't they. The medic certainly knew what to say. Their spark sang at their caring candor. Breathy laughs loosened their tension, which quickly reapplied itself when Forceps went down again.  "P-please..." they brought their servo down to Forceps's chin and, in an expertly-timed flick of their thumb, opened their valve cover. A bit of transfluid spilled out onto the berth. With their pinky, they found Forceps's servo and drew a line down the back of it before hooking it under one of their fingers and gently pulling it towards their wet valve.    
"Pl-" they were interrupted mid plea by an overload so intense they yelled, their whole frame tensing. Their spike pulsated beneath Forceps's grip as they came so hard, transfluid began to decorate the ceiling. Their optics widened, they didn't even think they had this much transfluid  _ inside them. _

 

Shuddering in anticipation at the touch to their servo, Forceps rubbed firmly at Sticks’ valve cover until it opened, then gently slipped a finger inside, fans clicking up a few notches as hot, charged, silky walks wrapped around their digit.   
They’d intended to swallow, and they did, at first, but had to release Sticks’ spike as their mouth filled with far more fluid than expected. That, though it hadn’t been intentional, made a very pretty picture- Forceps, optics burning with intent, faceplates splattered with transfluid, lifting the servo formerly around Sticks’ spike to lick their fingers clean.    
Well. Pretty until they got a rather concerned look on their face and paused to rub two fingertips together, having noticed an odd texture.  _.:Oh, for Primus’ sake. Sand. Congratulations:. _ a quick smack to Sticks’ aft  _.:You are now going to get my uninterrupted attention, barring emergencies, until we get your transfluid tank completely emptied. If you can move enough... let’s see you show off for me. Turn around, chassis to the berth, aft up, thighs apart. Do you want to know what toy I have in mind for you, or... do you want to be surprised? It’s a bit unusual, but nothing too strange:. _

 

_.:We- what?:. _ Sticks managed to comm once they cooled down enough from the overload,  _.:All of it??:. _ For only a klik, they met Forceps's optics with an incredulous blush -having to look away nervously, embarrassed they'd stare. Fraggin sand, had it out for them. The look on Forceps's face now suggested a tone shift- pleasure to business as usual. And just as they'd started to them hot. Though, the idea of uninterrupted attention made them happy on a deeper level than they'd like to admit. They sighed and dragged their servos down their face, they were too aroused to be properly embarrassed.  _.:I'd ask how sand got in there but I -honest to Primus- don't want to know:. _   
Slowly they raised a leg and leveraged themself onto their front, leaning their weight back onto their knees and arching their back inward. The remnants of their first discharge dripped off the end of their spike. There was something a little unsettling about not being able to see behind them- their shoulder plates were too big and their wheels were in the way. But they trusted Forceps... right? The bot had notably  _ different _ values for what was acceptable, but... seemed to care enough about them not to do anything too wild.   _.:I'd... like to see it first if that's okay:. _ Sticks commed, damning their lack of experience- they sounded so awkward.

 

 _.:If you want to spike anyone at any point in the future and not get sand in their valve, yes. All of it, or as much as your frame can manage. I was planning to exhaust you anyway. Don't worry... you'll enjoy it:._   
Forceps watched Sticks move, motors revving quietly, and firmly stroked the backs of their thighs to help them settle. Mm. Sticks still looked like they'd been sandblasted recently, but they were healing, they were cute, and, well. Their equipment hadn't been sandblasted. But, ah- they were... concerned? Whoops. Forceps was being slightly too much again, it seemed. Too confident. Had to remember to be gentler with Sticks than with previous partners.   
Deliberately making a sort of 'purring' noise with their vents, they nuzzled against Sticks' thigh (admittedly, partially to remove some of the fluids from their face), then moved up to lean their weight on Sticks' back, their chassis to Sticks' middle back, one servo stroking up their flank and petting at their seams. _.:Of course you can see it. If you are uncomfortable with anything I am doing, at any point, physically or mentally, please tell me. I... well. You've met me. You know what I'm like. If I start pushing any of your boundaries at all, tell me. That being said... take a look at this:._

One servo sliding down Sticks' belly to rub just on either side of their valve, teasing more than stimulating, they retrieved something from their berthside cabinet and held it where Sticks could see, still comfortably lying against their berthmate's back. The weight and warmth of their frame would probably help with Sticks' nervousness. Or the offered toy would be distracting enough.    
At first glance, it looked like a simple vibrating egg, a smallish, heavily nubbed toy with a long wire leading to a small controller. A turn of a dial, and it began to vibrate, strongly enough to be audible, then Forceps smirked against Sticks' back and turned another dial. That caused the toy to expand, the soft silicone cover stretching around a spreading core.  _.:We get your valve all warmed up, then press this as far in as it will go and expand it slightly. It presses against your transfluid tank through your valve wall, and the vibrations are deep enough to stimulate the tank. Causes the tank to contract more strongly during overload. Believe me- you will like how this feels. As will I, with my fingers in your valve. What do you think?:. _

 

Sticks narrowed their optics at the toy and let out a gentle 'hmm'  _.:An awful lot of faith to put in a single cord out. Though I suppose if it gets stuck somehow we're already in a medbay.... Some of my physical artifact counterparts at the Archive have told me of some horror stories about... testing gone wrong. That being said, they were idiots:. _ They shook their head to wipe the mental image from their thoughts. It was about time to try something new, anyway. "That's a talk for another day, somewhere far away from the berth. Besides I know at least one person in this room isn't an idiot," they vocalized, turning their head in Forceps's direction and smiling, they hoped they'd get the intention even if they couldn't quite see, "I'm not horny enough to stutter anymore, Forceps..." They trailed off, mentally preparing for what they were about to say, "F-Frag me until we've solved this sand problem for good."   
With that Sticks leaned backward and hooked a pede around Forceps's leg, gently bringing it closer in some kind of strange leg-hug display of affection. They took a moment to reflect on what they'd just said and laughed through an even more ridiculous sentence they couldn't help but share, "put it in me doc."

  
  


_.:The cord is securely fastened. I would not offer you something unsafe:. _ Forceps said quietly, lightly petting whatever plating came into reach, and smirked slightly at the observation. And the request. Bad porn lines or not.    
Turning the vibrations down low and shrinking the toy back to its original size, Forceps lightly palmed the toy and rubbed it over Sticks' valve, lingering against their node to let them properly feel the vibrations. Ventilations quickening at the sensation of charge, lubricant, and those gorgeous vibrations against their servos, they shifted so they could reach Sticks' valve with both servos, using two fingertips to spread their valve lips as they begun to press the toy inside. Nice and slow, gentle, pausing at any sign of resistance, but continuing until the toy was in the ideal spot.  _.:There we are. Now... to fill you up,:. _ they purred, and took hold of the controller, slowly expanding the toy about halfway. A good, snug fit, enough to do the job, and it could be expanded further once Sticks loosened up a bit more. Rubbing over Sticks' node with two fingertips, they turned the vibrations on the toy up further, not enough to overwhelm but enough that Sticks would start to feel it all through their array. This toy was made less for power and more for penetration of vibrations, spreading sensation as far as it could.

Now... now they could settle in. Starting to pant slightly in arousal, Forceps moved up further, basically mounting Sticks, one servo sliding down their belly to play with their valve and the other coming up to stroke their face. Two fingers slid gently into Sticks' valve, and Forceps rubbed firmly over a series of nodes just above the entrance, knowing this spot almost never got properly stimulated. Whispering  _.:you feel so good, little one,:. _ they brought their servo up to lightly stroke over Sticks' lips, wordlessly asking for some attention to their fingertips. They had one servo thoroughly occupied with heat and charge and wet, conductive lubricant, had to do something with the other.    
It wasn't quite a conscious decision, but their interface panels clicked aside automatically, freeing their spike to rub against Sticks' thigh with each lazy rock of their hips. They were relaxed, charge building relatively slowly,  _ savoring _ everything and paying close attention to their partner.

 

Sticks let out another hot exhaust,  _ back in business. _ They leaned back slightly, arching their hips into Forceps's touch. The toy was already beginning to work its magic. They could feel the vibrations traveling through the base of their spike, which twitched in anticipation of another overload. Feeling Forceps's fingers on their face, their optics widened a bit, more  _ now was their chance. _ They shifted their weight  slightly to free one of their servos and brought it up to cover Forceps's. Ever-so gently, Sticks ran their finger along the side of their palm before inching it slightly closer to their face. They began with a single, sustained, kiss to their palm, then another at the base of their digits, this time flicking their glossa in the space between them. At last they moved to their fingertips, another kiss that roped two into their mouth.    
Now with Forceps fingers in the right place, Sticks went to work, first slowly, then with increasing speed, circling their glossa around their fingertips. Meanwhile they loosely held Forceps's servo with their own, leaning their helm ever so slightly into the embrace. If they couldn't see Forceps's face, at least they could do this.

 

Forceps' vents caught, and they pushed their face into Sticks' back, panting, servo curling gently into the attention. Oh. Perfect. This,  _ this _ was what they wanted, and their servos shook momentarily at the onslaught of sensation, frame shivering against their partner. Panting softly, they ground their spike against Sticks' inner thigh, enjoying the sensation- but that was only a background to the sensation in their servos. They didn't even have their fingertips up at maximum strength- that would be too much for now, for when they were trying to stay relatively coherent to- oh. An idea.    
_.:That feels... very good, little one. Would you like me to spike you after this? It wouldn't work so well with:. _ a moment of static  _.: this toy in place, but I could grind against you for now, and then- after you overload, flip you over and spike you?:. _   
Fingers sliding deeper into Sticks' valve, they ground their palm against Sticks' node, nice and firmly, and lingered with their spike against their partner's thigh. The tip of their spike was ringed with a series of relatively large nubs, making a sort of frill, with further nubs down the length of their shaft and a light swell halfway down. Nothing too drastic, but a partner would definitely feel it. Hopefully to Sticks' liking.

 

_.:That-:. _ their comm cut short by a low hum, the attention to their node was getting to them.  _.:That's a great idea, let me see your face again before we're through:. _ They felt Forceps's spike on their thigh and grinned through their mouthful of fingers,  _ now we're getting somewhere. _ They pushed their leg back to lean into their grinding, pulling it in slowly to add some extra sensation to the experience. Their valve was beginning to ooze more transfluid as they could feel charge building up again.    
It seemed, too, Forceps hadn't over-exaggerated their servo sensitivity, each progressive shudder Sticks felt against their back brought with it a kind of erotic glee. Yes, they could do this. They concentrated, as best they could given the multiple distracting stimuli, on the sound of their partner's vents, paying particular attention to what seemed to elicit a response. They began to play -just a little- a game of sorts to see when they could catch Forceps offguard. Starting slow, trailing their glossa down the length of their fingers, almost too slow-almost, then switched to a quick flicking motion just when they seemed to calm down a bit. These were occasionally accompanied with -or interrupted by- actual moans as pleasure compounded, now not hindered by a closed mouth.

 

Forceps preferred to be relatively composed, but they weren't one to be ashamed of their pleasure. They just weren't  _ vocal _ . Probably wouldn't have been even if they could speak. But Sticks... Sticks had all the right ideas, and Forceps made a shaking, quivery noise through their vents, fingers curling lightly inside Sticks' mouth. The moans, nngh- those felt amazing. Not just the sensation, the  _ meaning _ , knowing what they were doing to Sticks. Who knew how long it had been since they'd gotten laid? Probably far too long, judging by the transfluid now on Forceps' ceiling. They hadn't even known that was possible without a trick or two involv-   
_ Ohhh _ dear Primus. Forceps pulled their fingers out of Sticks' valve long enough to turn the vibrations up, slid their fingers back, and bucked their hips immediately at the surge of sensation. Determined  _ not _ to be the first to overload, they withdrew their fingers from Sticks' valve and rubbed over their node instead, savoring the sleek slide and the sensation of the charge, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Slumping against Sticks' back, they pressed their fingers further into Sticks' mouth, quietly demanding more, and lightly squeezed their node between two fingertips to try and draw their charge up further. They weren't about to spike Sticks without another overload under their belt, they didn't intend to be gentle and wanted to be sure Sticks was loosened up, so that was their goal- get Sticks to overload and probably overload themself from the charge exchange.

  
  


Sticks arched upward at the increase in vibrations, unable to stop a very loud moan from escaping their frame. Their optics closed instinctively, their expression a desperate grimace. They vented sweltering hot air, their fans barely keeping up with the flare of their excited spark. They were so close. Their spike was rock hard now, transfluid already dripping down onto the berth, joining the veritable puddle their valve was making. They took a shaking intake, "I- I'm gonna," their voice was low, hoarse and almost incomprehensible through thick static, "I'm gonna make you overload."    
And with that, Sticks came. Their entire frame tensed once again as they arched backwards and discharged with a sustained moan and a steamy exhaust. They were still twitching when their arm gave out enough to make them fall to their elbow. Forceps's fingers popped out of their mouth before Sticks accidentally bit one off. In a final dazed thought, they grabbed Forceps's servo with one of their own, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. They would make good on their word.

 

It wasn't just Sticks' words that got Forceps. The words were nice, yes, but that sudden depth of the vibrations through their fingertips-! Forceps' motors revved and their core tightened as their frame redirected the charge, and then Sticks overloaded and flooded Forceps' servos with static discharge. Suddenly hyper-aware of the still thrumming vibe, they wrapped two fingertips into the cable and tugged, pulling the still-widened toy out of Sticks' valve. Or, attempting to. Mostly they ended up trapping their fingers against Sticks' valve wall, caught between the silky, conductive wall and the vibrating toy, servo curling around the toy in an instinctive grasp at the sensation and-    
Without proper sensory input to their equipment, their frame directed the surge of energy to their valve where it could jump from there to Sticks' thigh as they bucked forward, the very start of a cocky reply via COMMs turning into an indistinct burst of static and several random suggestive glyphs that had evidently been in the forefront of their thoughts. Strangely, aside from the COMM static, their vents, and the creak of their motors engaging, their overload was silent. Not a single sound from their vocalizer.    
Slumping in a heap against Sticks, they pulled the toy out and shut it off with the last of coherence, then pawed Sticks over onto their back in order to properly flop on top of them. Forceps would need a moment, but their spike would need less so- frames reacted a bit oddly to tactile-only overloads, and Forceps' spike was still half-pressurized as they clamped their thighs around Sticks' leg. Not bothering with words, they reached up with the servo not coated in Sticks' lubricant to pet their cheek, offering something like quiet affection.

 

It took even longer this time for Sticks to cool down. They spent a few moments, optics closed both from exhaustion, joy, and the glory that comes with being covered in both your own (albeit sandy) transfluid and the exhausted body of another bot. They finally managed a breathy laugh that slowly grew into a full chassis laugh. They were still laughing when they opened their optics again to look at Forceps on top of them. They reached down with their servo to caress the side of Forceps's face, "Now what was  _ that, _ " their tone was a gentle mixture of curious and teasing, "never gotten a comm quite like that before."    
Suddenly their expression changed ever-so-slightly. They met Forceps's tired optics. Their servo slid to their chin, tilting their head up an inch. In one slow but deliberate movement, they sat up enough to bring their face right next to Forceps's. There they paused. The residual heat from both of their frames made Forceps's image dance in their optics. Their resolution wavered, their expression clouding over with a tinge of guilt and self-doubt. They thought they knew what they were doing but the idea that Forceps wouldn't respond well was inescapable. They sighed and instead moved their servo to hold the back of their helm in a very tired hug.

 

Forceps, blushing and looking grumpy at being teased, went with what was clearly a kiss. Yes, sure, they could do sexy kissing, now was the right time for that sort of-   
...that wasn't what Sticks was going for. Sticks was going for _emotion_ kissing. Slag. Forceps was not in a state to process emotions.   
Most of them. The only emotion they could clearly process here was exasperation. Leaning up, they took Sticks' helm in both servos (and smeared lubricant all up their cheek as a result) and pulled them in for a kiss. Not a terribly gentle kiss, either- lips parted, glossa pressing in, nipping at Sticks, _claiming_. After a moment or two, they pulled away, still holding Sticks' helm, and gave them a gentle, firm shake. _.:Stop hesitating. Take things that you want. Now- I want to frag. I want to feel your valve around my spike, and I want to see your face for this. I don't intend to be terribly gentle, provided you have no objections. I have no plans for either of us to be coherent for much longer. I will sort out your emotions and mine later:._   
How much did that reveal? Forceps didn't like revealing uncertainty, and this... this was uncertain. They hadn't even thought about their emotions up until this point, and were absolutely not going to do so, no thank you. They wanted _charge_ , not contemplation.

Steadfastedly denying their blush and glancing away from Forceps, they bit their lip, showing off a set of sharp little dentae, then slid down slightly and nudged Sticks' legs apart.  _.:You- you show off well. How about you- come on now. No need to be shy. Spread yourself open for me. Let me see you:. _ they prompted, optics glinting, and, attempting to distract themself further from Emotions, slid a servo down to rub over their own valve. Hips rocking back slightly, they quietly presented their re-pressurizing spike to Sticks, silently offering them a look at the textures. And, though they didn't quite realize it, fishing for more of Sticks' quiet praise. They liked that. They liked admiration. Most of what they'd done in the past had been- not necessarily rough or lacking in care, but very practical. Minimal praise. Often rather quick in case of emergency situations. This was... something approaching new.    
They liked it.

 

Sticks's optics sparked slightly at Forceps's speech. They didn't miss the last few words, and clung to them more than they could admit to themself. After a moment of incredulous stare, they sighed and donned their usual smirk. Sticks leaned forward a bit, locking optics with the other medic and brought a servo to Forceps's hips. Drawing a single finger in a circle first around their node, they traced a line up the underside of their spike that followed to the tip, flicking it gently upwards. They looked down in slight surprise, they'd felt something a little unexpected. After taking a moment to survey Forceps's anatomy for the first time, they returned their gaze once again to Forceps's face, their optics alight with renewed fervor.   
"Let's finish what we started, then?" Sticks's voice was low, soft. It held a confident ring that hung in the air like absentmindedly-sprayed perfume. They leaned back as far as their wheels would let them (which admittedly, wasn't that far) and spread their thighs, lazily leaning one knee on the wall, and the other off the edge of the berth. Their barely-pressurized spike flopped to the side, giving ample access to a  _ very _ lubed valve.

 

Forceps swayed back slightly and looked Sticks up and down, helm cocked, vents purring, clearly appreciating the touches and the show. Mm. Perfect. Optics glowing brighter, they pressed up between Forceps' thighs, stroking their flanks lightly, then firmly gripped their hips to keep them still. A gentle, teasing prod of their spike tip against Sticks' valve rim, then they purred and began to grind against them, sliding the underside of their spike over that slick, welcoming valve. They weren't inclined to hurry, not quite yet.   
Optics narrowed slightly but bright and intense, Forceps held Sticks' hips still against any potential squirming, rocking against Sticks' valve to enjoy the sensation. Slow, firm, even strokes, savoring, _teasing_ , occasionally lingering to rub against their node. _.:You feel good, Sticks. Nice and slick... beautifully ready for me. You make such a good show. Now... relax. Let me fill you up:._   
Releasing their grip on Sticks' hips, they brought their servos up and gently spread the pretty valve lips with two fingertips from both servos, then rocked their hips in one smooth motion and pressed the frilled tip of their spike past Sticks' valve rim. Another pause to savor, then they slid their servos up to Sticks' flanks, gripping gently but leaving them room to squirm. With a whisper of _.:tell me if this is too much,:._ they thrust firmly and sheathed their spike in Sticks' valve, optics shuttering momentarily in bliss. Oh, that was _good_.   
A firm thrust, then another, starting off slow and speeding up, bracing their pedes for better thrusts. They didn't want to be outright rough, but they weren't in the mood for slow thrusts, and they suspected Sticks wasn't either. Just had to start off relatively slow to make sure Sticks' valve was ready. Sticks was smaller than Forceps, after all.

 

Sticks shuddered at the feeling, closing their optics slightly, their smile widening. Now _this_ they knew. Nothing quite like a spike tied to another bot, whose whirring energy they could feel in every inch of their frame -beat out cold, impersonal pleasure of solo toys every time. They focused their gaze on Forceps's face, closely watching their expression change. _.:Good...:._ Now they could see their reaction to their touch-see their expression when they overloaded. _.:Very good:._   
Sticks brought both servos from behind their helm and rested them over Forceps's, stroking their fingers against the back. They couldn't do much right now, they figured, aside from let Forceps take the lead -it was their turn to overload and Sticks would see it through. But that didn't mean they couldn't help them along. They released Forceps's servos and drew their own up the medic's arms until they were close enough to grab their shoulders and pull them closer. Sticks had an idea. Now satisfied with how close they were, they returned one servo to their partner's and continued their slight tease, while the other traveled to the back of Forceps's helm, "you feelin good?" they whispered into their audial, "you wanna try to sing for me?"

 

_.:Sticks, we both know that's not going to work,:. _ Forceps grumbled, servos tightening momentarily in irritation, but relaxed at the touches to their servos. A soft, deep sigh, and they leaned in close as Sticks wanted, shifting to hook Sticks' leg over their shoulder. Their voice wasn't going to cooperate here, so the best they could do was frag Sticks to their satisfaction, try to make up for not being able to speak, since this wasn't-    
Except this  _ was _ a medical situation, wasn't it, in a way? Forceps paused again, thinking, remarkably focused for a bot with their spike in someone's valve, and only lost their concentration for a moment when Sticks squeezed their servo again. That was the key, wasn't it? They'd used it in the past, starting off with something medical to get their own voice started, so... maybe if they...    
What the Pit. Worth a try. A deep in-vent, and Forceps started speaking, actually  _ speaking _ , going over the first topic that came to mind. Something straight out of a textbook, of course, describing the inner workings of a spike and exactly how pressurization worked. In excruciating detail.(edited)

Well. Talking was working, even if the closest they could get to sexy was describing anatomy. Maybe that would work? A quick glance up at Sticks' optics, a tiny, satisfied smirk, and Forceps began to thrust, harder, one servo releasing Sticks' side to grip their servo instead. "-when the spike is fully pressurized and penetration ensues, charge begins to rise further in response to- to stimulation, aided by the conductivity of lubricant and the- nnhhh-"    
Forceps thrust deep, hip plating clanging against Sticks', and their voice faltered and broke in a shaky moan as they repeated the motion, considerably harder. Sticks was warmed up enough that Forceps felt confident thrusting as strongly as they could, and it felt amazing, but the squeeze around one of their servos had more of their attention. They didn't even realize they were still vocalizing, a soft, quavering moan in a voice made slightly rough by disuse.

 

Sticks grinned wildly, their optics shining  _.:Just listen to yourself, Forceps:. _ They could feel that blush creep into their face again. The transition from composure to discomposure so magnificently displayed they could barely reign in their glee.  _.:Beautiful:. _ They could feel pressure building up in their spike, which was now bouncing merrily to Forceps's thrusts. They closed their optics for a moment, reaching with one servo to drag their fingers against the seams of Forceps's back, catching a fingertip in the area between their sawlets. They savored the sounds, the loud whirring of their fans in unison, the crashing of hip-plates, and especially the words masked by moans. They gasped as the concentration brought them up another level, tensing their frame, leaning closer into Forceps's chassis.    
Sticks opened their optics again and leaned forward again, "S-sing for me Forceps," their voice was low, words barely shaped around a moan. They squeezed Forceps's servo in theirs, rubbing their thumb against the side before tearing a way enough to trail it around Forceps's palm, trying to hit every bit they could feel.

Forceps  _ did _ listen, and blushed even deeper, voice faltering but not stopping. Their even thrusts faltered, the rhythm falling apart somewhat in the face of what was definitely embarrassment, and they hid their face behind the servo that was not currently being rubbed. They were trying to be  _ composed _ , trying to make sure this felt good for Sticks, trying to...   
Oh. Well. This was- was new, it was strange, they didn't know what to make of their own voice, of what was unquestionably their own voice,  _ moaning _ like this, but... if they wanted to make Sticks feel good, this- this did seem to be the way to-    
Forceps cocked their helm to one side, field purring something like affection under all the embarrassment, and thrust harder, their free servo lowering to wrap around Sticks' spike. It was mostly a selfish thing, adding the charge and slickness of lubricant to the equation, but it felt  _ good _ and they heard their voice trill in response.

Maybe it was the embarrassment-slash-excitement at this accidental resolution to a puzzle they'd set aside ages ago. Maybe it was Sticks' voice, their face, their frame pressed close, the undeniable pleasure and the  _ want _ , the knowledge that it was for them and for them in  _ particular _ . Maybe it was spiking someone for the first time in far too long. Whatever the cause, Forceps' charge built rapidly, and their panted moans turned into quiet keens of bliss, still staticky, still faltering now and then, but continuing, gradually pitching louder and higher as their charge built. One servo grasping at Sticks' servo and the other gripping for their hips, Forceps curled close against Sticks, thrust into them as hard as they could manage a half-dozen times more, then gasped, keened, and overloaded, hard, sending them crashing into a reboot as their hips bucked and their spike pumped Sticks full of transfluid.    
it took them a moment to do anything other than slump against Sticks and pant for breath. When their optics onlined again, Forceps blinked once, twice, then stared up at Sticks and, in lieu of coherently asking "the fuck did you do to me", sent every confused glyph they could easily shove over COMMs.

Sticks basked in the heat of their shared afterglow for a moment before bringing a tired servo up to pet the back of Forceps's head.  _.:That overload was a work of art:. _ They met the other's optics with a warm but tired smile, which dimmed slightly at their confusion. Their idea was a bit of a risk, they'd admit but hopefully nothing too risky... right? They figured they'd be more worried if they weren't so damn tired. Anxiety required energy they just couldn't muster in that klik. They brought Forceps's servo up to rest on their chassis so it wasn't hanging off the berth. Sticks held on with a loose grip, however, making sure not to stimulate it too much- it was not time for that now. They drew a gentle line down the middle of Forceps's helm with the tips of their fingers,  _.:You okay? How was it?:. _

This wasn't right.    
Granted, it felt right. It felt amazing. Warm and comfortable and still drizzled with afterglow. And the petting- Sticks' petting felt good. Forceps squirmed slightly to get closer to the wall and prevent them falling off the berth, hauling a loose blanket up over them both as a distraction to give them some time to think, and slumped back against Sticks' frame with no willingness whatsoever to move. They felt... very, very good. But something was  _ wrong _ , because this wasn't right. This wasn't how they normally felt. This was nowhere near that. They were having  _ emotions _ , and they'd- they'd been  _ moaning _ ! They didn't moan. They couldn't. They'd tried, in the past, it didn't  _ work _ .    
Something was different, and that something was Sticks. But a new partner shouldn't have made so much of a difference. Not to something that Forceps had no control over. Sticks must have... well, the conclusion was obvious. They'd done something. Why could they possibly have- what- why would-

Forceps started to bristle, confused and alarmed, but took another look at Sticks and settled the slightest bit. Ah. Right. It was Sticks. They wouldn't have tried to hurt Forceps, they... really just didn't do that sort of thing. So... maybe they'd... thought it would be helpful? That made sense, yes. Sticks had done... something well-meaning, but, dear Primus, you didn't do things that would affect someone's behavior so thoroughly without _asking_! Maybe no one had thought to tell Sticks that.  
Forcibly settling their plating, Forceps squeezed Sticks' servo and met their optics, trying not to be angry. Sticks didn't react well to angry. _.:Sticks. I am not angry with you, but I need to know what you did. And where you got whatever you used. Many recreational substances are tainted in one way or another:._   
They were trying not to be angry. Well. Trying not to be _too_ angry, they were allowed to be some degree of upset. But... dear Primus, the look in Sticks' optics. They were _trying_. They hadn't... hadn't meant anything, had they? Well. Forceps could forgive them. If they were truthful.

_.:Recreational....:. _ "Drugs??" Sticks incredulously said aloud, "you think I..." They trailed off at the look on Forceps's face, they were serious. This wasn't like Forceps. They seemed almost... scared? They were never scared -not as long as Sticks had seen them (which wasn't, admittedly, very long). They were always composed. So  _ this _ was the Forceps underneath the composure- a big ball of latent anxieties, held in check by self-confident power. They'd broken through their shell, at last, but at what cost. Guilt rose up within them, they'd meddled too far in someone's life, they should have known it wouldn't work. But they shouldn't back out now, they couldn't. Maybe they could find a way to slip out of the berth, maybe they could run, find an escape pod and jettison themself to the nearest planet without getting caught up, Pit, dying didn't even matter anymore. But no, they couldn't. They couldn't abandon the first bot to show invested care in their success, the one who so-carefully bandaged their servos, the one who patiently watched as they messed up, forgave them for their mistakes and taught them how to continue. They couldn't leave their mentor, who inspired feelings they were barely able to properly digest, not in this state. They deserved better, Sticks would do better.

They shifted slightly under Forceps's stare and finally met their gaze again, optics clear, their expression a mix of weary, worried, and determined, "I didn't. I wouldn't." Their voice was low, calm, but barely holding back a hint at the devastation that was happening in their mind, "There's... a glitch, I guess, in your processor. I've noticed it-figured it out- the few times I've come over. You know it too. I was going to suggest it but you already seemed to know what I was hinting at."  They felt their face begin to heat up, their optics spark at the edges. They put both servos on either side of Forceps's helm, "You're safe Forceps. I'm so, so sorry I seem to have scared you but-" they took a deep intake and faced a chasm of fear with blinding courage, " _ this _ is what happens when you don't deal with your feelings.  _ Talk to me Forceps. _ I would never hurt you."

  
  


Forceps would argue that it  _ wasn't _ a shell. They were, at least mostly, confident and in control. They were competent, in just about everything they approached. That was not a shell. They just... had a few spots that were vulnerable to being prodded. Most of those spots had labels including the word "uncertainty". Uncertainty about their own frame was a major issue for them- for anyone! Right?    
Sticks was making sense. More than that, Sticks'  _ expression _ \- dear Primus, they looked like Forceps had just accused them of- of intentional incompetence or something of the sort. Nobody could fake that, least of all Sticks. And, that... oh. Pit. Forceps' contained ire melted away, and they slumped limp against the smaller bot's side. Oh. Right. They'd done  _ that _ again. Usually it wasn't this bad! Usually it just involved staring suspiciously at someone. They didn't usually... hadn't  _ ever _ accused someone they liked  _ this much _ of... of drugging them.    
Pit.

Not quite meeting Sticks' optics, Forceps lightly stroked their chassis with one servo, then their side, trying to find a good place to touch. _.:It's not repressed emotions. It's plain, old-fashioned paranoia. I usually have... at least an idea of what is happening. If I cannot predict what is about to happen, I can... usually handle that well enough, if I am aware of my own lack of knowledge. When I find myself suddenly drowning in uncertainty, especially about myself, I... do not cope well. A lifetime of war has shaped my processors' usual response into... this. Immediately trying to find an answer, and usually coming to the conclusion that someone has intentionally done something. I worked with spies for far too long. So... you aren't quite... you aren't wrong. Less a glitch and more a... gradually developed response, a coping mechanism. Glitches are illogical, this sort of paranoia is usually somewhat more logical. So... I...:._  
Pausing, they took one of Sticks' servos in theirs, brought it up, and kissed it, softly, optics dim, trying to apologize. _.:I am sorry. I... didn't think you'd hurt me. I thought you might have done something that you meant to be helpful. I...:._   
They didn't want to keep talking. What few bits of confusion and uncertainty they had, they preferred to keep quietly tucked away, to be dealt with on their own time and while alone. They did not like bringing everything out to give to someone else. But they had to- they had to fix what they'd done, jumping to that conclusion.

So they kept talking, lowering their helm to bring both of Sticks' servos up and around to the back of their helm. A blatant display of submission- helm lowered, both of another's servos on the back of their helm, near their neck. Decepticons tended to be rather big on physical displays of submission, when it was required. This was when it was required. Helped with the apology.  _.:I'm sorry, Sticks. You are... inspiring some rather odd emotions, which I... do not know what to do with, quite yet. And I- I do not moan in berth. I do not make any sort of sound. You- I-I need you to understand, this is... a very strange situation for me. Uncertain. Hence the... attempted shortcut back to certainty. I do apologize:. _

  
  


A few moments later, tucking themself up into a small and remarkably vulnerable-looking ball, they nuzzled lightly into Sticks' chassis and admitted something much, much softer.  _.:And this is somewhat based on experience. I did have someone decide that slipping me a drug meant to enhance one's pleasure would be likely to make me loosen up. What THEY wanted was to get permission to do something I wouldn't ordinarily try. I noticed the sensation and... thoroughly discouraged them from touching me. They left my room bleeding profusely and had to get repairs from a mechanic used to inanimate machinery. Died on the battlefield later. They never managed to hurt me, but... evidently they left something of an impression, them and the saboteurs I dealt with. I am naturally suspicious of others, especially when provoked, and I am so... so sorry for that. But it is not going to stop. All I can do is apologize afterward. Please understand that I... do not genuinely suspect you of attempting harm, and I sincerely doubt I would ever. But I... cannot genuinely promise that I will never impulsively suspect you of something, it is likely to happen several times. If it makes you feel any better, I occasionally suspect myself of having accidentally concealed my own processor damage. Paranoia is a strange thing:. _

Sticks listened silently as Forceps talked, gently patting the back of their head as reassurance. Their trepidation slowly left them as they realized Forceps wasn't mad at them. They nodded every so often, not so much in agreement, or out of knowledge, but as acknowledgement. As Forceps finished their apology, Stick let out a long sigh, tension they didn't think they'd been holding in diffused out of them. There was something very unsettling about Forceps looking so vulnerable, and an apology that long they did not expect. Explanation was enough to set the record straight, enough to release the emotions. They had nothing they really felt the need to forgive but... it looked like Forceps needed a bit of forgiveness. "I... think I understand now. A breach of trust like that isn't something you really come back from that easily- if ever. I don't think you did anything wrong, but if it makes you feel better, I forgive you," Sticks began, they accented the affirmation with a few light taps with both servos on the other's helm, "I'll say too, it's brave of you to talk about such a sensitive experience so... thank you for trusting me." That was, admittedly a little sappy, even for them.(edited)

Sticks could feel the heaviness in the room, like a blanket of bad vibes, it was time to lighten the mood. "Yanno, Forceps, for a klik there I was contemplating my odds of getting off the ship and now I'm imagining myself running around, spike out, covered helm-to-pede in transfluid. Would probably scare the slag outta everyone, huh?" Sticks chuckled for a moment before they realized it probably wasn't helping Forceps to talk about their hasty exit strategy, "So.... how  _ did _ you feel about the vocalizing, now that we've both confirmed it was natural? Is it something we should try again in the future or does it make you too uncomfortable?" Sticks realized what they were implying after the last word left their lips. They blushed a bit. It was wishful thinking possibly, but they'd stand by it.

  
  


Forceps made a quiet snorting noise and uncurled slightly, thoroughly relieved that their apology method had worked. Not knowing what else to do, they'd gone with "explain everything relevant and hope the additional understanding lends clarity". It had definitely worked. Sticks didn't seem to be as upset any more. Relieved, they slunk up Sticks' frame and flopped against their smaller partner, gently, tucking their helm into Sticks' collar plating, nuzzling demandingly in and tightly hugging Sticks with one arm. Back to their usual "go and take the nice sensations" form of cuddling.  _.:About a third of the ship's population would likely joke or proposition you. Another third would shove you into a closet to avoid scandalizing or frightening the last third. Scalpel might just trap you in a tarp before you got out of the medbay:. _ they commented, and pulled one of Sticks' servos up to lightly kiss it. And then, almost absentmindedly, start licking the fluids off.

That question took them a moment of thought, but a glance up at Sticks and the memory of their reaction settled it. Yes.  _.:I... don't see why not. It's strange for me, but I suppose that will change quickly enough, and... if you like it, I certainly have no reason to refuse. As for the future:. _ a quick rub of a fingertip against the head of Sticks' spike  _.:we seem to have gotten rid of the sand. Which means I would very much like to try this out. Though... I tend to respond better to attention to my fingertips than to my equipment. Array stimulation is excellent, of course, but... I have more sensors elsewhere. I could show you a few tricks to do with a medic's fingertips. Use them on yourself in future. Or:. _ a longer, more firm rub, circling around Sticks' transfluid slit,  _.:I could introduce you to other things. Like sounding. If I'm going to mentor you, I may as well be thorough about it, hm?:. _   
Looking thoroughly comfortable and slightly contemplative, Forceps sucked lightly on one of Sticks' fingers, savoring the taste.  _.:That is a yes to another time, by the way. I would have agreed regardless of... certain emotions. This was thoroughly enjoyable. I want to try your spike, and I... I very much want to introduce you to several new things and hear what you have to think. I imagine you'll make some amazing sounds:. _

  
  
  


Sticks hummed approvingly through a bawdy grin, "Outstanding. Excited to see what you've got in store for me Forceps." they paused and cocked their helm coyly, "You know, when I came up with the idea, I thought it'd be hot. I was  _ right. _ " Their eyes flared with passion as their final word, "when you really get going, you  _ do _ have a beautiful voice, songbird." The mood was at last properly settled into something suiting the embers of afterglow. They brought their unoccupied arm to rest around Forceps's shoulders. They dragged their fingers carefully down their flank and wiggled their frame down a bit to properly settle into the embrace. Forceps's occupation with their fingers was somewhat unusual, but far be it from them to stop them- Sticks could hardly feel it anyway.    
When they were not looking bemusedly at Forceps, their optics scanned the room, taking in the extent of their romp. The berth was covered, of course, in what was almost a puddle of transfluid. At some point they'd thrown off a blanket onto the floor, which was suspect just by proximity. They looked up to the ceiling again, seeing the bright stain from earlier, and laughed. There was even a couple splatters on the adjacent wall to match those on the ceiling. Sticks wondered if there was some sort of record they should consult. Some of the cabinet doors were slightly ajar, no doubt from Forceps's power-thrusting traveling through the berth into the wall. It would take some effort to make the room tidy again- all in all a job well done.   
"Say, what are your thoughts on a doubles shower? There's that big stall in the medbay but... you think the others are back yet?" Sticks began to giggle, " _ Primus _ are we still on duty?"

Forceps, sputtering quietly, took Sticks' servo out of their mouth in favor of shoving their face into the palm. Dear Primus, they were probably blushing enough for it to be felt in terms of temperature. _.:I- dear Primus. If anyone hears you call me that they are going to think it's ironic,:._ they declared, their train of thought quite derailed, and took several moments to go back to gently cleaning Sticks' fingers. This was... something like a courtesy, removing the stickiness, and almost a habit at this point. Pleasant. A good thing to focus on.   
_.:Technically still on duty. No one cares as long as no one needs major medical attention. A good thing for us... we should take this berth and all involved pieces and put them  through the cleaning system. It's next door to the medbay. Good for getting all manner of bodily fluids out of blankets and berth padding. The ceiling... I am going to need a mop for that. Or I could pick you up and you could lick it clean if you're into that. Had one partner who was. Ceiling is quite clean. We definitely need a shower... although that comes with a non-zero chance of being seen. May wrap ourselves up in a blanket first to limit that. We both need to shower before this dries. Then... I am not inclined to go back to preparing for your servo repairs, not just yet. I would like to hold you:._   
Somewhat reluctantly, Sticks pulled away and stood up, stretching their spine, then crouched, gently scooped Sticks into their arms, and lifted them, without significant difficulty, into a bridal carry. _.:Comfortable?:._

  
  


Sticks's optics widened in surprise at being picked up, not particularly used to being held this way. Normally they would have squirmed away but... they looked up, this was a good angle. And after that pounding they doubted they'd be walking quite right anyway. Sticks was beginning to feel a bit of a blush coming on, staring at Forceps's face -they supposed blushing would be a frequent occurrence now.  They cleared their throat and stuck their leg out slightly, "As long as you don't drop me, Songbird."    
They were beginning to get attached  the nickname, especially how Forceps reacted to it. It seemed that at least they weren't opposed to it. "They were on the sand planet by the way, songbirds. They're these little... organic things," they paused to motion with their servos as if they were holding something small, "with wings, and these huge hind legs. You'd see em crawling over the rocks in the morning. They're normally pretty quiet but if you spook em they make this amazing sound as they jump away, a little hum clear and even as a bell." Their optics clouded for a moment, lost in thought, "We... named them songbirds... Amazing how you can find beauty in even the most forbidding places, huh?"

_.:Continue questioning my competency and I may drop you on purpose,:. _ Forceps retorted, blushing again, but slightly less this time. With the explanation, that was... cute. Another new thing; cute nickname. Weird. Forceps might have to consider something to call Sticks.  _.:Mm. Sometimes that's bait, though. Do be careful approaching unknown species in any future expeditions. The last species someone thought was 'pretty' turned out to be using itself as bait and latched dispersal seedpods onto everyone who came close enough. Harmless, but annoying as Pit to remove. You, on the other servo, are clearly not bait,:. _ they declared, leaning down just enough to nuzzle Sticks' face, and walked sideways out the door to get back to the medbay without running Sticks into the doorframe.    
Fortunately, no one was in the medbay, and Forceps ducked into the showers quickly enough. Setting Sticks gently on the bench, they shut and latched the door, making sure no one would barge in, then pulled a waist-height showerheads off the wall on its soft, flexible hose.  _.:Let's see. Is there any way whatsoever I can clean you up without you getting turned on from the sensation, or... do we want to embrace it? These lower showerheads are for cleaning, among other areas, interface equipment, so they have extremely gentle settings that may not get you revved up. Or:. _ a quick flick of their wrist, turning the showerhead on, and they aimed it at their stomach in a matter-of-fact manner,  _.:or I very thoroughly make sure you don't have any sand anywhere else:. _

  
  


"I-" Sticks stopped themself, comms were probably better given that someone could walk in at any moment, now was not the time to get caught saying something weird. _.:I can't make any promises I won't get turned on, but at this point I don't think I could be ashamed about it- and I'd hope you wouldn't either. After what we just got finished doing? That'd be silly:._ They leaned back on the bench a bit, taking the chance to stretch out their legs. _.:Though a deep clean, I think, is more than I can handle currently:._ They shrugged, _.:What sand there is will continue to be where it is, out of view, until it is revealed later. There can't be much left, though, I was pretty thorough the first time, Now:._   
Here Sticks reached over to turn the overhead shower on too, _.:The ready access to showers is inspiring some old habits that had to die in their absence and so now the thought of walking around with dried transfluid on me is almost enough to make my nanites flee. Let's clean up, shall we?:._  They reached a servo to paw at the showerhead in Forceps's servo, _.:and I don't think I can forgive you if you don't let me be at least a little doting:._

  
  


_.:Was thinking less 'are you embarrassed' and more 'is this an annoyance or a perk'. And that was your opening to get me to aim this at your valve and keep it there. Regardless, I am going to get you cleaned off. After my own servos, I need to be selfish for a moment before this dries,:._ they declared, beginning to turn the showerhead on their own servos, then paused and looked Sticks over. Hm. _.:...doting? Well. I may have to make that mutual. You've made a mess of yourself. First... this. And, as this context is not currently sexual but is adjacent to it, I... cannot make any promises or accurate guesses as to how my frame will respond:._   
A moment's thought about what to do, and Forceps sat down in front of Sticks, legs crossed, sitting in the shower spray and placing their servos on Sticks' thighs. _.:You may as well get some practice in cleaning a set of medic's servos. Gently, gently- as soft as that showerhead can spray at first:._   
Optics narrowed slightly in contemplation, Forceps looked Sticks' servos over, sighing quietly through their vents. _.:We were discussing your servo repairs. You'll have an acclimation period to the increased sensitivity, but we'll only be upgrading you to normal sensitivity for now, with framework for further sensors. We'll also keep you partially numbed and gradually remove the numbing as you adjust. Eventually, once you're used to the basic servo framework for a medic... we can get you some built-in tools. For now, do you want a closer look at my tools, outside of a practical situation?:._

  
  


Sticks took the showerhead from Forceps, gazing into their optics for a moment before beginning. They carefully aimed it at the back of their servo first, cleaning in slow circles as they listened to Forceps's talk and the sound of water pinging against metal. They leaned closer to make sure they didn't miss anything, lightly buffing off a piece of sand stuck to the side of Forceps's thumb with their fingertip. Their frame was remarkably still as they worked, as if all their energy was focused on this one task. Every so often they would nod their head in response to show they were listening. They gently grasped Forceps's servo with two fingers and motioned wordlessly for them to turn it over. Once revealed, Sticks began again, washing in small circles on Forceps's palm as the cradled the other side in their free servo. It was only once they got to their fingers that Sticks commed, .:This sensitivity... it's not just pleasure, right? It's pain too:. 

What probably should have been voiced as a question was intoned remarkably matter-of-fact. They'd been avoiding thinking about the implications of new sensors, even if the idea of getting closer to having fully- functioning servos excited them. They realized what they'd said and squirmed a bit, glancing sheepishly at Forceps's face, .:Ah that... sounded sinister, didn't it. Please, I'd like to take a look at your tools, see what I've got to look forward to:.

Forceps closed their optics most of the way, relaxing, and rasped the softest purring noise as they settled in close. Their helm settled against the inside of Sticks' knee, and they just... watched, optics dim, watching Sticks' face. Intent. Focused. Cute. 

Their systems idly attempted to lift their charge once or twice, but they were too blissed out for anything else, even if that something was sexy. Just... relaxation. Enjoying this. Even the question- that was a good question. .:Mm. That's the unfortunate side, but you do need that sensitivity to keep all those delicate components intact. Be careful of yourself, and if you think you've been injured, let me see. Your processor may overreact to the first few times you run your servo into something, mistake it for serious damage. It's unpleasant, but... there are considerable upsides to... keep doing that:. 

Their optics shut for a moment, then slid back open, and they lightly tapped with their unoccupied servo before turning it over, palm up, still resting on Sticks' thigh. Their first and second fingers spread open slightly, the plating lifting away, to unsheath multiple tools. .:Maintenance and repair mode. Not usable this way:. they explained, slowly flexing the tools, optics still dim and happy. .:You are welcome to touch, but gently. Avoid the blade:.

A laser scalpel and a tiny welding torch flickered to life for an instant, then faded, and the mechanism with the metal scalpel at the tip curled slightly to demonstrate its dexterity. Next, a small tweezer-like device, and a long, thin probe. .:I have more, but the sensory input from all bared at once is too much. The sensors are automatically muted somewhat with these folded away, like any inner workings, then enhanced when they extend:.

Sticks paused what they were doing to observe the spectacle, optics wide. They switched the showerhead to their other servo and used their now-free one to hold the back of Forceps's as they leaned in for a better look.  _.:You have more??:. _ They reached a finger to stroke the back of the torch.  _.:I've always wanted one of these. You know, In the beginning, I used to only heat-close wounds. Used a bit of energon and ignited it with a spark from hitting two rocks together. Spade eventually rigged this neat device that let me snap to turn on a servo-mounted torch. But by that point we'd figured out there were some natural coagulants on the planet, making the torch an 'emergencies only' device. For the best, it definitely wasn't the most comfortable thing to use. This, though, this looks easy, and no worry of singeing your fingers:. _ They smiled warmly for a moment before turning back to Forceps's other servo. It was nearly clean but from what they could feel, the warm water was nice. They figured it'd probably feel even better for Forceps and spent a few lengthened kliks just spraying it over their palm, enjoying the runoff in the process.    
_.:Alright, you ready for me to switch?:. _ Sticks looked to Forceps's face.

Forceps tried their very best not to look simultaneously horrified and disgusted, and only mostly managed it. Dear Primus that was bad. They'd have to teach Sticks to use a proper torch. Trying to push away the negativity before it could be misinterpreted, they hummed very, very softly and folded away the tools in their first two fingers, then paused, pulsed a quick wave of comfort in their field, and triggered the transformation sequence for their third finger. The plating flared out, then folded back up with the tools extended, and made it clear what Forceps thought Sticks might need reassurance about. This third and last finger was packed with a set of tiny manipulators, vaguely like insect legs, two of them slightly larger and with tiny graspers at the end. Somewhat akin to the structures that archivists usually had. Now, calm, talking about something medical-adjacent, they could speak, and did. "Manipulators. Useful during surgery. More than compensate for me not having the full set of fingers like most medics. Then-"

The manipulators folded away, and Forceps turned their servos to put both thumbs in the air, transforming both at once. These didn't match. The left was something along the lines of a long, thin speculum, the right a syringe with a long needle and a fairly small barrel. "-these. The spreader is largely used to access things deep between cables, or to spread an energon line to work inside it. Occasionally to provide a clear path for the right. The right... self-explanatory, a syringe. These are somewhat unusual for medics. I've contemplated swapping them for something else, but... every time I consider it, I wind up using one or the other. And they  _ can _ be good for threatening people with. Always good to have something you can unnerve someone with. Now..."    
A few moments of purring, enjoying the sensation, then Forceps gently took the showerhead from Sticks. Hm. They'd... just... stay down here. "Let me... see what I can do. And... would you..."    
Glancing away, they took Sticks' servo and turned the showerhead up a bit further, lingering with the spray on their palm in an effort to share a fraction of the sensation. With no idea if it was shyness coaxing them into avoiding curious audials or their vocalizer pushing them into silence, they lowered their helm just a fraction, glancing up at Sticks again.  _.:Put your servos on the back of my helm again, when I finish with them. It's a very... I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Decepticons tend to be rather physical, especially in displays of... well. This could be termed a gesture of submission, or of trust. Whatever the meaning, I find it... calming.This positioning:. _

  
  


Sticks was still for a moment, a happy kind of shocked. Trust... The word hit them hard, slinking its warm tendrils into their chassis with the speed of falling water. It was special. Though they'd realized before the vulnerability Forceps had shown them was significant, it was giving a word to the feeling, an official name, that made it powerful. With trust came safety in weakness. Sticks's optics glowed. "Sure, Songbird," they said. Their voice was quiet, to avoid detection, but full of a tender affectation they knew they couldn't quite transmit through comms.    
They lifted their servos to rest gently on the back of Forceps's helm as they finished cleaning. They drew their thumbs in absentminded circles and inched their fingers softly down the back of their neck. This  _ was _ a dangerous position to be in, Sticks realized. The right weapon, the right force would be instant death. To think that this kind of submission was common practice-  _.:The Decepticons... they have you doing this often?:. _ They couldn't really hide their concern. They'd known of ruthless bots on both sides of the conflict, but at least the Autobots didn't encourage regular prostration. If they were going to publicly use force at least they'd give you a fighting chance. Sticks stepped their thought back a bit and decided to clarify,  _.:I don't think I'd trust my superiors like this. I... don't know what that says about me, or about the Decepticons:. _

_.:Your superiors sent you to extinguish Hell with a bucket. I wouldn't trust them with a loose washer,:._ Forceps scoffed, settling closer, now relaxed against one of Sticks' legs with their helm against the inside of the smaller bot's knee. Comfortable. _.:Not frequently, no. Almost never. And gestures of trust, of willing submission, lose all meaning when forced. Truthfully, it helps that you are small and relatively incapable of potential injury, but... this is something you earned:._ they offered, softly, momentarily shutting their optics as they brought their servos up to Sticks' flanks. It wasn't intentional, but they made a beautiful picture- on their knees at Sticks' pedes, comfortable, relaxed, focused on nothing more than cleaning their mingled fluids off Sticks' stomach. _.:You made a mess. Your frame was terribly determined to save all this transfluid for a potential mate. Impressive capacity. You absolutely need to overload inside me next time, I want to feel you fill me up:._   
Purring in the back of their throat, they gently scrubbed away everything on Sticks' stomach, then moved up further, lingering around the seams in their sides. _.:If your servos aren't sensitive enough to enjoy cleaning them... show me what is. Show me what you want me to linger against, Sticks. Let me return the pleasure. I want to make you feel as good as I can. You deserve the enjoyment, you know that? You deserve:._ a pause, servos firmly squeezing Sticks' flanks, _.:the best someone can give you. Certainly better than you've gotten in the past. So, as one of the local medics... I will fix that:._

_.:That's- That's what happens when you're stuck on an abstinence planet for...:._ Sticks trails off, their snarky comment sounding much too sincere. Forceps's words hit deep within them, to places they wouldn't know. Maybe they'd learn in time how deep they reached to touch, with cool servos a long-buried burn. Sticks leaned down to rest their forehead on the top of Forceps's helm. "How am I supposed to joke about not overloading for millennia when you look at me with that face," they mumbled, trying and failing to sound stern through their adamantine smile. Sticks closed their optics, _.:I think most of my external sensors got sandblasted except for a couple spots:._ They flicked their fingers up their upper arms and drew them under the base of their pauldrons _.:Not much there but:._ They met optics with Forceps for the briefest moment as they grabbed their free servo and guided it to a place underneath the back of their helm, close to the base of their braincase. It was dry, completely untouched by any of their activities. Forceps could feel a small grouping of bumps on the back of their neck. _.:Sand really can't get in there through force. Nor can much of anything. These ports are the last physical evidence of my previous life. I've got some lines out in there behind the covers, which is why I think it's a more sensitive area-some kinda preservation for the most important equipment:._ They shifted a bit, _.:I'm a little reluctant to put water up there, not supposed to get it in ports, but if we're careful we'll be fine. Let me wash my face:._   
Sticks sat up a bit, plucked the showerhead from Forceps's other servo and carefully washed the transfluid residue off, deftly avoiding their nose and cheek holes. Someday they'd let Forceps do this, if they wanted to, but they could do without water in their inner workings today.

What face? Were they doing a face?    
On reflection and consideration of their own emotions, yes, they were probably doing a face. "Your external sensors should regenerate eventually, and I suspect they may be doing so already. It would be far more trouble than it's worth to try replacing them all. Remind me to give you a thorough massage once they regrow. For now," they purred, voice just on the edge of medical-tone, tracing their fingertips over the offered spots, "let me see what I can do here."    
This, they knew how to do. Regardless of the emotional situation, rubbing sensitive areas was easy enough. They knew how to massage and make people feel good. They'd just... never really done it with this much  _ emotion _ involved. Optics closing slowly again, Forceps focused in on the sensation, rubbing their fingertips gently between the ports. "Mm. Best to keep moisture away. You know, Sticks, you could... I may have something that will interest you once you have the fingertip sensitivity needed to type quickly. We have a good deal of medical texts and are attempting to put together a resource on... essentially, first aid and basic medical procedures for people with limited to no experience. Intended to be distributed to everyone we can reach. Restoring civilization via distribution of vital information. You could help, and read for yourself at the same time. Now..."

Optics still shut, they pressed their fingertips over the ports, enjoying the innate conductivity, then began to slowly, firmly massage the area around them once again, fingertips occasionally flicking over the ports. "These are sensitive to detect potential irritants or threats. The upside of that is... the rich nerve centers mean a good deal of possibility for pleasure. Besides that... this  _ is _ something of a..."    
Trailing off, they opened their optics again, looking up at Sticks with that same intense expression. "Sticks, is- is this practicality alone, or..."    
_.:Or a mirror of what I am doing here?:. _ they finished, not quite able to manage it out loud, watching carefully for the explanation. Was this the only sensitive area Sticks had left, and offered only because of that, or... well, it  _ was _ something akin to Forceps' trust-gesture here. Without the bowing, a necessity of position, but the contact to the back of someone's neck was... well, that was something. Intentional something? Sticks... presumably trusted Forceps quite a bit, letting them- well, everything, but especially this. These ports were delicate. Easily maimed. And, well... their servos were full of medical equipment. They could cripple Sticks in one firm motion in this position.

  
  


Sticks straightened up a bit, closing their optics, "Ooh- you're good at that." Their voice came out soft, as if they were letting out a long-held breath. After a few kliks, they looked down at Forceps through a half-lidded smile,  _.:Y-yeah, it is a bit. I mean, I don't trust anyone with small enough servos to get back there- except for you:. _ They bent down and readied the showerhead again.  _.:Let's get this now, shall we?:. _ they commed, aiming the stream at Forceps's chestplate.    
Sticks was slow as they worked, contemplative and enjoying the feeling of contact and willing vulnerability.  _.:As for a medical database I'd be psyched to work on it. I can't promise I'd be as quick as I was- will have to learn to work with fewer digits but... that's the kind of thing I really could have used starting out. I daydreamed about having a database more often than I'd like to admit. I-uhh, I've got a lot of ideas already for how I'd structure it. I've never built something like that from the ground up but I think between me and Spade, we can do it:. _ Their optics brightened considerably.  _.:Some kind of datapad distribution would be ideal, so people could search things in times of emergency. Spade should be able to modify the basic datapad design to run on low power for use in areas with less energy:. _ They seemed genuinely excited, at last able to indulge a long-held fantasy.  _.:If we're modifying the hardware, it should be easy to implement some accessibility features as well. -You want me to get your face too or would you like to do that?:. _ They interrupted their train of thought, holding the showerhead up. In their reverie, they'd finished cleaning Forceps's front-chassis.

"It's meant to help people keep others alive until a medic can get there, not to train actual medics, so most of it is fairly basic. You should find it interesting, though. We found a stash of old propaganda data-pads. They need repainting and a lot of bigotry had to be deleted, but the 'pads themselves work well enough, and we should be able to use them. As for accessibility... I suppose we could use something for empuratees, though I'd think that the majority of physical disabilities would also significantly impede someone's ability to perform most listed procedures. No harm in including accessibility features for anyone it might help"   
This had definitely been the right thing to mention. Sticks was happy, excited-  _ cute _ . They'd look forward to working on this near Sticks, seeing them at least  _ near _ their element. And then, repair their servos and... see where things went from there. See what they could learn to do, if it helped with their guilt any. It might. One would hope so. "Much of it will be data transfer and splicing rather than outright typing everything in, so it may not require as much dexterity as other things. A good thing for you to work on once we put your servos back together somewhat, a form of rehab," they commented, and shut their optics, tilting their helm back slightly to wordlessly offer their face for cleaning.    
As the warm spray washed over their face, Forceps purred a very, very soft sound, their vocalizer still slightly engaged, their frame relaxed completely against Sticks. Trust. "This is... 's very comfortable. Warm. Thank you."

Sticks smiled, brushing their fingertips against the side of Forceps's face to dislodge some stubborn goo, "of course!" they said, "I was thinking something along the lines of an internal speaker for bots with visual issues, though that would also help someone follow along without looking at it. And diagrams! Lots of diagrams."  They let out a short sigh, "We can... we can do this. It's gonna help so many people. Though I guess I'm ahh, getting ahead of myself."    
Now finished with Forceps's face, Sticks leaned forward and reached their arms behind the other's head to aim the showerhead at their back. They rested their face on the side of Forceps's helm and fiddled for a moment with the flow control switch, attempting to set the spray higher. It was too far away to properly see where their fingers were, and they'd be damned if they'd give up this position. After a few kliks of increasingly more frustrated attempts, they gave up and aimed a relatively weak stream at Forceps's backplates again. New servos couldn't come soon enough, it seemed. "Of course, I couldn't let the project get in the way of my medical training. As desperate as I am to be good at something again, you can't be rid of me that easily," they said glibly, "which means you're, uhh, gonna have to keep me on track." They leaned in a little more on Forceps's helm for emphasis.

_.:You say that like I'd want to get rid of you. Don't get me wrong- I'm keeping you:. _ Forceps declared, and, thoroughly enjoying this whole situation, lightly caressed over Sticks' ports before going back to rubbing around them. Gentle.  _.:And... you are not inept. I doubt you have ever been. You are somewhat unskilled in certain things, and physically handicapped in those things and others, but none of that is your fault. Your lack of skill is due to lack of experience, as far as I can tell, you seem perfectly sensible. I cannot promise that you will be a great medic, but... there is nothing stopping you, once we repair your servos, from being a good medic. You- I believe you can do this, Sticks. You are sensible and intelligent enough, and I fully intend to see you through this:. _ they promised softly, lightly patting whatever was under their fingertips, and snuggled closer into Sticks' frame.    
Primus. It was a wonder Sticks wasn't messed up worse after what they'd been through. Maybe they  _ were _ and were hiding it too well, Forceps wasn't sure. They'd make sure to keep an optic on Sticks for any signs of anything dangerous.

Sticks leaned down further onto Forceps's shoulders wrapping their servos around them in a hug, "I don't need greatness, all I want is to be good enough to help the people around me and, I guess, the people who need help." After a few heartfelt kliks their inner opportunist kicked in. Now close enough to see where their fingers were on the showerhead, they, with only a little effort, flicked the flow control switch to a higher setting. Not that they could see how much more then needed to get. Forceps's reaction to their attention was more than gratifying but they had a task to do, however reluctantly. A moment to savor the feeling and they pulled away slightly, just enough to peek through their periphery at Forceps's face, "I... ah, need to get your back, you wanna turn around?" They accented their request with a twirling motion with one of their fingers.

Forceps grumbled reluctantly, but turned around most of the way, ending up with their helm leaned on Sticks' other knee. Mmrr. This was nice. Left without much else to do, their servos curled loosely and began to massage against the floor, a blatant sign of contentment. Yes. Perfect.    
Now... to do anything possible to lessen the replacement-dysphoria. "I should warn you, there is... a relatively significant chance that you will end up spending some time feeling considerably detached from your new servos. Not physically- mentally. It is a fairly significant change, after all, and I imagine it was something of an unpleasant revelation that your current servos are beyond repair. I should also ask- do you want to be conscious for the surgery? I can do a complete nerve block, you won't feel anything, but it may help prevent that dysphoria if you can watch the replacement, rather than waking up with new servos. People generally don't like total nerve blocks, but you... I suspect you will do well as soon as you realize how much discomfort you've been ignoring. Besides, you may find this interesting. What do you think? You'd best decide relatively soon... as soon as the other medics are back and rested, I suspect we could do your surgery. Would you like that, or do you need more time?"

Sticks was quiet for a bit, focusing on aiming the stream at Forceps's back plates and very little else. The fear was back. It slung itself over their shoulders like a heavy cloak. Logically they knew it would have to happen eventually, else they were hindering themself. Every day they'd had problems with one thing or another. They'd resigned themself to mediocrity before and now again resigned themself to change. Their ambition would stand. They  _ would _ move forward. And yet... They looked down, stretching out the skeletal fingers on their free servo. They were ugly, mangled, pitiful. But... they were theirs.    
Sticks reached out to brush their fingertips on the area between Forceps's sawlets, the good spot, before focusing in earnest on cleaning. "Songbird, I could watch you take the spark out of my frame without flinching but this I cannot see," their tone was rather matter-of-fact but weighted by weariness, "I'm just not brave enough for it. You'll need to put me under." They seemed almost apologetic. They locked their optics on their work, smile wilted into a concerned grimace, refusing to look at Forceps's face. "I don't think it's something I can really prepare myself for either. So soon is as good as any time."

"Why are-"  
Forceps was reluctant to turn away from the servo on their back, but they did, leaning up to grab Sticks' helm in both servos. Definitely weren't going to be able to speak for this. Not if Sticks kept calling them that silly (but adorable) name. _.:Stop that. You have enough undeserved guilt without being angry at yourself for not wanting to watch your own major surgery. I will gladly put you under if you prefer. However, and this I will not compromise on... you are going to keep your servos, in a way. I'll find a suitably sized box. For whatever reason, having the understanding that whatever parts of you have been removed are in a certain place, i.e. a box, rather than an amorphous concept of 'not here', greatly decreases the chance of mental rejection. You never have to open the box, nor do you have to keep it, but... it helps. Now- it's settled. We are replacing your servos as soon as the others are back. So... what would be the most relaxing thing we could do for you, right now, to help you be calm? You are... somewhat nervous, I'm sure you've noticed, so it is in both of our best interests to keep you calm. Relax, Sticks:._ they ordered, and settled comfortably against Sticks' knee again, allowing them to reach. _.:Would you like a massage, perhaps? We could get into the side room a bit early and see how relaxed I can get you:._   
They couldn't reach much of Sticks, so they went for one leg, rubbing to gently realign any muscle cables that were out of place due to, ah. Exertion. Something of a relief, really... Sticks' servos were almost painful to watch. It was a wonder they weren't in more pain. Who knew what they'd feel like once they no longer had what had to be a serious degree of negative sensory input flooding from their maimed servos?

"A BOX" Sticks's optics were wide, unfocused, their mind firmly affixed to the mental picture of their two, unmoving servos laid gently in the bottom of a box. They'd seen enough corpses to know the vision of death, the cold stillness. They'd seen those they'd known utterly lifeless, but nothing,  _ nothing, _ put the fear of mortality in them like the tableau their imagination clung to. They couldn't be rid of it. That was  _ them, _ in that box, not just their servos. They shuddered, their optics sparking violently as they ripped their head away from Forceps's concerned hold. Sticks curled down, away from the medic, hiding their face in their servos. They'd had a lengthy cry when they were told their servos were irreparable, alone in their room where nobody could hear, another few moments at the end of long shifts when they were reminded of what was going to happen. And now here, in front of Forceps, who seemed so excited for their success, who... they couldn't even imagine what they were thinking now. They wanted to stop, they wanted  _ desperately _ to stop, to get over it, or at least save this for another time, another place. But they couldn't. They weren't tough. Every ounce of courage they had was gone, replaced with noxious mixture of terror, guilt, and grief.

It was a long time before Sticks spoke again. Their sobs were silent shudders that disturbed the droplets of water falling on their backplates. They were no longer crying for their future, but for their past, their whole past. A past that would be gone soon, something they wouldn't have to look at _every damn day._   
When they finally found the will to speak, their voice was filled with static, "I'm... sorry," they managed, hoping they'd convey their disappointment at themself for breaking down in front of Forceps with just two words. They were done with the pretense of trying to sound okay, they were already well past that point. There was no use in trying to hide. Their servos fell to their lap. Water droplets sizzled as they made contact with their fingers, singed by their sparking optics. A few things they should have said came to mind, but all they could really do was stare, gaze affixed between their servos and the ground.

Aaah slag.    
That was mostly what Forceps was thinking- a long string of curse words at having upset Sticks. This was probably inevitable, to be fair, Sticks was... well, Sticks cried more than Forceps was used to. Not enough to be an issue, they could keep it together when it was important to do so, but... more than Forceps really knew what to do with. Maybe they ought to be just a bit less blunt about this whole... everything to do with Sticks' servos. Right, this... was probably a very emotional time, wasn't it? Forceps didn't really know what Sticks was thinking, but... clearly  _ something _ .    
What did they do? Forceps sat perfectly still for a little while, trying to decide what would help, then slowly put a servo on Sticks' back and edged closer. Sticks didn't seem to mind being touched in just about any context, so Forceps pressed up close, curling against Sticks' back, and held them, afraid to speak for fear of making something worse. Hopefully the contact was enough to be comforting.    
Of  _ course _ the next thing Sticks said was an apology. Forceps snorted against their back, then sighed, squeezing them tight and scooting up a bit further to lean on top of Sticks' frame. Deep pressure helped sometimes.  _.:Stop apologizing. You've done nothing wrong. Of course this is a lot to deal with. I... maybe could have been more delicate about that, also. It's all right, Sticks. You'll be all right. You...:. _

Reaching around Sticks, they gathered the smaller mech's servos up in their own and tucked them up to Sticks' throat, that protective gesture from before, firmly putting everything out of Sticks' sight. _.:You don't need to carry your past around with you everywhere you go. That isn't healthy. This doesn't mean you're discarding your past, this means you're... setting it aside, into the past like it's supposed to be, so you can heal and you can help others heal. And you... physically can't keep these servos any longer. Sooner or later they're going to fail, or you're going to get an infection somewhere that could spread. It's time to retire these so you can be healthy and move on. Lingering in your past will do nothing to help you:._   
Practicality, again. Forceps wasn't much good at anything else. Maybe this would help, regardless? And, oh-  
Another firm squeeze, and Forceps shoved their way around to Sticks' flank, trying to be as hard as possible to ignore. _.:First major part replacement?:._

  
  


Sticks leaned into Forceps, comforted by the presence of another person. They nodded, Forceps was right, deep down they'd come to the same conclusion. It was time to move on. Not often did people get the chance to remake themselves entirely. They'd seen so many who would never get the opportunity. It would be for them that they'd face this future, to stand in their place and continue on. Their mind drifted to Aphelion, the absent Choir member. They couldn't bring themself to be spiteful. Nor could they feel that longing at what had been. They could only acknowledge they were changing themself in a way that the deserter would never see. They would push past the corpse of their old self, and Aphelion would be behind them, wherever they were.    
Sticks wasn't calm, not yet. The image of their disembodied servos would haunt them, they felt, for a long time. But their shuddering became less and less noticeable, until they stopped. Someday they'd tell Forceps. They'd sort through their past and figure out what to keep and what to discard and they'd tell them. Until then, storing the messiest parts of their life where they couldn't see would have to do. They turned their head upward, shakily, to look Forceps in the face. Their optics had blackened around the edges and their expression looked a little lost, a little tired. They looked away again, not brave enough to say what they were going to say with the intensity of looking someone in the optics, "I-it is. It will be the most invasive thing since..." their voice was steadier now, "since the time they were ruined." Their voice was monotone, internally they knew there was an easier way to phrase it but the sentence would bring them too close to the memory.

  
  


_.:That was an assault:._ Forceps hissed, field momentarily flaring anger, and didn't manage to tuck all that fury away for several long moments. _.:This... this will not be like that, Sticks. I would not do that to you. This is... I cannot say exactly what this will be like for you, but... I may be able to offer a comparison?:._   
Pausing, they rubbed at the edges of Sticks' optics, clearing away the singe marks, and shoved their way around to get into Sticks' lap. They'd actually done this before, multiple times- nothing convinced a Decepticon you weren't about to laugh at them for being upset like climbing into their lap to hug them. Sticks didn't want to make optic contact, understandably, so Forceps didn't try to force it, but they didn't look entirely away. "I had a rather unfortunate incident with a cannon blast that... entirely removed one of my legs at mid-thigh and rendered the other unsalvageable. I am a specialty frame, so the parts to repair me were not available, but I was needed in the field. So... I ended up with temporary replacements. Temporary limbs are usually used in situations where someone _has_ to be back out in the fray as soon as possible. Minimal nerve connections to function, minimal... anything. Those... never really felt like _mine_ , though, more like a vehicle. I wore them for longer than I was supposed to, specialty parts and all, but they never... settled in. Weren't supposed to. Having those replaced for actual _limbs_ was something of a relief. I still have- most of those, my left pede had to be replaced once more. It's... strange, falling asleep and then waking up with different limbs, but it... _oh_. I. Ah. It- it's not-"

Something had occurred to Forceps, and they went quiet, then sighed and COMMed Sticks to finish.  _.:It's not like empurata. That, again, is assault- mutilation. Regardless of the surgical nature. I've had... many patients for one reason or another willingly go into a surgery to have limbs replaced. It's a strange thing, but not... inherently upsetting. Not like your experiences. Minimal pain, as well. You will be sore, I can do nothing about that, but we will give you painkillers to prevent anything beyond that. And... it's not as if I'm about to run off. I'll be doing... a significant portion of the surgery, and... I'll be here when you wake up. I won't leave. I'm here:. _

  
  


Sticks pushed their head into Forceps's shoulder, still keeping their servos where they were. It was a good place to be. A slight smile skittered across their face for a split-klik, "I was wondering what you meant earlier, when you said you'd operated with your leg missing. That's... you're... amazing." They vented shakily and spent a moment silent, "I know it's gonna be fine. Reasonably everything's gonna be so much better. It can't be more painful than it was before but..." they trailed off, taking some time to piece together their thoughts,  "These servos, they've always been a part of me-more than just a piece of my frame. They were how I did what I do. I'm not big, nor am I armed. I don't have a special voice or a special frame. All I can do, all I have done, is done with these servos. They let me be who I am. Even though they're falling apart, they're the biggest part of  _ me _ I have. That's why, I think, it's so hard for me to think of myself without them."    
Sticks took a pause, letting a small wave of emotion run its course. "It's... scary to think about trying to replace such a large part of myself. I don't know if I'll be the same afterwards, waking up with a stranger's servos. But..." they leaned in further, "at least I know I won't be alone."

"Impromptu tourniquets and a massive adrenaline surge will do a lot, let me tell you," Forceps muttered, and stayed quiet for the rest to let Sticks talk. They had to literally bite down on their glossa to stay quiet, to not correct Sticks on something, but they managed it. This seemed to be a time to not interrupt. So, as well as they could, Forceps listened, then replied.    
_.:You've... got something backwards. You haven't done what you have because of your servos, you've done it in spite of them. Your servos are, and I am putting this very bluntly, crippled. They are barely functional. I am honestly surprised they work at all right now. What you have in your favor is your mind, and determination. What was done to you is stacked against you. You have not had the opportunity to function freely since you were hurt this way. I look forward to seeing what you can do with all the parts of you working properly. And... they won't be a stranger's servos for too long. They... aren't anyone's, right now. This isn't a transplant, these are custom-built. They are no one's, so you can make them yours. And I... I will be here to help you with that. I suspect your team may at least try to help, as well. Do not forget them:. _

After a moment more, Forceps wriggled away slightly and, firm and practical as usual, pulled Sticks to their pedes.  _.:Come on. We're rinsed enough not to be dirty. Let's go get you comfortable. I can't do anything else for your fear, but I can do my best to get this part of things over with:. _ they declared, pressing softly against Sticks' side for support- more moral than physical.  _.:Maybe you should think about what you want to do once your sensors are integrated properly. I think part of your physical therapy should include fingering me. Lovely sensation. And I can show you the wonders of servo massage, you can... get a taste of why I respond to that the way I do:. _ they suggested, blushing rather badly and trying to pretend they weren't. They couldn't reassure Sticks any more, but they could try to be distracting.

  
  


Sticks wavered on their pedes a bit, feeling a sullen creak from their hips, at last holding their weight after that pounding. They put an arm around Forceps's waist and leaned on them as they turned off the shower and exited. Their optics were locked on the floor, only partly for emotional stability. Forceps's comment gave them pause, they stopped mid cockeyed step and  leaned in a little further, brushing their cheek against the nearest part of their frame, "Call me a greedy bastard but the first person I'm doing with increased finger sensitivity is myself" they mumbled. They sounded harrowed but were trying to keep their spirits up, "does this mean I can't do servo-shakes anymore? How am I supposed to make a good impression now." They thought seriously for a moment, realizing they'd have to inform the Choir somehow. They seriously weren't in the mood for Draft's slag comms and couldn't contact anyone else who could handle the news appropriately.    
Sticks stopped, standing still. They looked up at Forceps with a worried look on their face, "Tell Bowline first. I'm not sure if she'll be back before the rest of the medic crew. She can share the information responsibly. Plus... she should be the first to know. Salvo will likely want to see me as soon as he can. If you can be casual with him, he'll calm down faster. Call him an aft to his face if that's what it takes." They paused to vent, something about thinking this much in their current state was exhausting, "I would do it myself but... I don't want to be anywhere near conscious when we start. Would you... be alright...?" They trailed off, feeling off about asking for help.

_.:Mm. I won't call you greedy if you let me watch. And you can still do servo shakes for awhile, you won't have the full suite for some time yet. After that, well... a medic's insignia goes a long way to a good impression:._   
Forceps didn't quite resist the urge to give Sticks' aft a quick squeeze, then tucked an arm around them, quite happily supporting the smaller bot. _.:I'll tell them. I'm... going to tell them you're already sedated, though, and that they can see you afterward when you want company. You may be a bit foggy for awhile from the sedatives. I'll keep them out until you want to talk to them. I may send them a snap or two of you after the procedure, just to prove that I haven't done something like turn you into a vacuum cleaner, but I'll make sure they let you rest:._

The surgical room had, for reasons much like this, been outfitted with curtains along the edges to hide most of the equipment. The overhead lights were visible, but dimmed to no more than a usual brightness, and the only thing remarkable about the berth in the center was that it was the denser foam pad usually seen in medbays. Had to have _some_ kind of padding on most berths to allow for comfort of appendages and kibble, after all. Forceps quietly walked up to the berth, hopping up to sit on it, and patted a spot right next to themself for Sticks. _.:Come on. I can put you under as soon as you're ready. It'll be much gentler than with Salvo, though I do need access to a vein. After that, you just... leave everything to me. I have you, Sticks:._   
  
_.:Bowline? Forceps. Sticks is about to have their servos replaced with something that's actually functional. They're already sedated- I didn't want to plan this exact time too far in advance so they wouldn't be able to be nervous about it for too long. They wanted me to let you know so you can tell the rest. You and the rest can see them in a few hours when they wake up, but only after they want company. They'll be groggy, but shouldn't be in any real pain. Please try to keep Salvo from barging in, I don't want to have to fix another door and deal with him again. Do you have any questions before the other medics get here and we start?:._

  
  
  


A medic's insignia! Sticks felt the faintest glimmer of glee through their anxiety. They hadn't thought of that. They mentally catalogued the image of them standing tall, wearing a medic's badge -to save for later when they could properly savor the feeling. They sat down next to Forceps on the berth and leaned gently on their shoulder for a moment. "I'd make a horrible vacuum cleaner anyway, it'd be a waste of so many worn parts," they said, their slightly-more-nihilistic-than-normal sense of humor kicking in, "At least turn me into something someone could play, imagine the irony!" Their nerves were getting the better of them. They went quiet for a moment, kindling all the courage they could from Forceps's presence before slowly letting their arm down within the other's reach. Sticks curled and flexed their servo, getting the full experience of it one last time. In a single practiced move, they flicked their forearm, their armor shifted slightly to reveal an energon line right near their elbow joint. "How long will I have till I'm out?" they said.   
  
Bowline started in her chair. She almost dropped the comparatively-tiny datapad she had grasped between two massive fingers. It took a bit for her to process the information Forceps was relaying.  _.:Right. It is time, then?:. _ Ah- this was an interesting sensation, ringing comm feedback. Not pleasant.  _.:I will inform those still on the ship, permission to gather in the medbay?:. _ She got up from the chair and stretched a bit, enjoying the noisy complaints of her new sensors even if the response was aching. She took initiative, placing the datapad down as gently as she could before walking out the door and across the hall. She'd chosen to stay behind instead of join the off-ship field trip and she had a feeling Spade wouldn't have gone either. She knocked twice on the door, "Meet me in the medbay, Sticks is going for surgery." Rather than wait for a response, Bowline walked in the direction of the medbay.

_.:Permission granted, but stay out there. I'll let you into his room when he wants company:._   
  
Forceps took a firm hold of Sticks' arm, making sure they couldn't jerk away, and, in a move they had _absolutely_ seen in a stupid romance movie that they hadn't even wanted to watch at the time, leaned over to kiss Sticks on the cheek as they slid the needle in. Silly, but... maybe it would help. Leaning firmly against Sticks, they hugged the smaller mech with one arm, a gentle, firm squeeze to offer support. "Not long. Just breathe... relax. Lay back, Sticks," they coaxed, placing their other servo on his chassis, and slowly eased him down onto his back. "Almost out... just a few more moments... there. Rest," they whispered, petting Sticks' chassis with a firm servo, and quietly waited for the other medics. This was a job that could technically be done with one person, was easier with two, and did best with four- two per servo was fastest and gave the frame the least time to register any stress over missing parts and disconnected nerves.   
  
Once the other medics were there, well. It never got any less strange to cut parts off of someone Forceps liked. Even stranger when no one was injured. Sticks' servos were beyond repair, and that only got more and more visible in their wrists as the surgery began, but they weren't bleeding or twisted or in immediate need of removal. Strange. Almost a relief, though, separating out parts corroded beyond any sensible use. The others' frames were in bad shape, but Sticks, in addition to the added stress on them, had no protection for their servos, so- agh. It was a mess. Wincing all around.

A few hours later, the three other medics left, and Forceps wheeled Sticks through a door to a connected recovery room. Quiet, dimly lit, and with a much softer berth, which Forceps gently transferred their patient-slash-friend to. Small bots always got a bit chilled under sedation, so they tucked an electric blanket over Sticks' frame, then set a pillow behind their helm and placed their new servos folded on their stomach. Shiny and clean, painted to match, and largely not covered. The wrists were wrapped in mesh bandage to cover the weld marks, but wrapping the rest would have been too much sensory input, even with the sensors on the lowest sensitivity like they were now. As for their old servos, well. Forceps  _ had _ kept those, but had elected to keep the box stashed unless Sticks requested otherwise. Try to avoid that, ah. Issue. From before.    
Sometimes medics forgot what was strange to say.   
  
Scalpel had parts sorting to do and Acus wanted nothing more than to rest and recover in his cabinet, but Patches trotted up to Bowline, electing to make sure she was okay. "Sticks is fine. No unforeseen conversations. They'll be awake very soon, and Forceps will let you know when they'd like company. They'll be very groggy at first and then a little groggy for probably the rest of the day, and we have them on some relatively strong sedatives at first until their frame adjusts. They'll be a tapering level of sore for probably a week or so, shouldn't ever be too bad, and their new servos are on the lowest possible sensory setting for now until they get used to the new input. Don't grab their servos or anything like that, and they should be fine. Any questions for me?" he asked, optics wide and earnest, winglets lifted slightly askew of each other. This could be a touchy subject for Bowline. Or, Pit, it might be the other way, she might want to know something about how this could apply for her.

Bowline had gotten to the medbay a bit before the medics came in and sat down on a berth from which she did not move. Salvo, Draft, and Burner followed behind the returning medics, Draft having gotten Bowline's message. Eventually Spade made it in, too, carrying something strange-looking, which they had worked on to pass the time. Bowline sat stock still on the nearest berth that could hold her, optic trained on the door to the operating room. At some point Burner crawled into her lap and fell asleep. Draft and Salvo spent the time sitting next to each other on the floor, quietly mumbling to each other. Meanwhile Bowline thought. She thought about the news from the datapad she'd been reading, digesting the fact that the group had been away for far longer than they knew. She thought about what would be going on behind the door, but not hard enough to dig up bad memories. She thought about Sticks and what they meant to her, categorically going through every memory, touching again the feelings they inspired and the reasons why she had felt that way. She came to the same conclusion she always did: they were her closest friend. She would be there for them in their time of vulnerability as they had been for her. She was not startled by the sound of the door closing, which rang throughout the silent medbay, nor was she surprised when Patches approached her, she had been watching.    
Burner awoke in her lap to the commotion, Salvo and Draft turned their heads and even Spade tore and optic away from their work.    
"Can we see them now?" Salvo began to stand up, a slightly discomforted look on his face, evidently Draft had been keeping him calm the entire time.

"No, Salvo, didn't you listen?" Draft put a servo on Salvo's shoulder and pulled him down, "the mute one will come tell us when they are ready."   
Bowline nodded, and was silent for a few more moments, condensing her thoughts, "What is the likelihood of physical rejection?" she finally said, "Their frame has not had to deal with something like this before." She would not wish that feeling on Sticks, even if they felt they deserved it.

It was quiet in the recovery room, except... no, it wasn't. Sticks heard soft vents, the slightest whirring of an internal fan. Their optics fluttered open, unfocused. They were tired. They could feel the heaviness of their own frame against the berth. They could feel... warmth. They closed their optics again, focusing instead on the feeling. It was... rough, and underneath it was something hard. The feeling buzzed up their arms from their servos. It slowly dawned on them what had happened. They couldn't look down, not yet. Their memory of the situation trod back to them. They remembered walking to the room, sitting down, and then - _ and then. _ They smiled.    
Sticks opened their optics again, this time enough to focus on the room. They let their head roll to the side where they'd heard the living sounds coming from, taking special care not to look down. Sure enough there was Forceps standing beside them. They locked optics with a tired grin, "you're... such a sap, songbird."   
They moved a servo to reach out to them, bring them closer, but stopped, grimacing at the sensation of roughness sparking at their fingertips. They wondered how people lived like this.

  
  


"There's no need to see them, I promise. They're probably either still unconscious or close to it, anyway, and- you all are quite a lot! You might be overwhelming. Sit. Put this in your mouth," Patches ordered, handing a lollipop to Salvo, then passed them out to the rest. Well, aside from Bowline, who he offered a small tin of a thick gel. "Try this. Not as good as taste, but that's about the strongest candy-scent I could whip up. Probably tastes terrible. I thought I'd try giving you something sweet, too. Anyway- there is a chance of rejection, yes, but the chance is very low. To allow for the addition of more sensors to bring Sticks up to medic-level strength, we've built Sticks' servos here, so the unknown factors that come from frame-to-frame transplants are largely missing. We'll closely monitor for anything like that, but... scratch-made parts, clean environment, relatively low-stress situation, all good things. It should work out," he soothed, and, never one to stay too long without contact, patted Bowline's knee. "Mostly the trouble is going to be sensory integration. They're probably going to be very particular about textures for awhile. Worst-case scenario there is we have to dip their fingertips in silicone to seal off most of the sensors. I imagine you all have been going through a bit of sensory reintegration yourselves, regrowing all your surface sensors after being sandblasted by an entire planet."

_.:I did say I would be here,:. _ Forceps muttered, and reached to take Sticks' servos, very gently, avoiding their fingertips, to turn their servos over. "Keep your fingertips away from things for now. That first onslaught of sensation will settle down soon, your frame is trying to parse everything. For now... you'll need this in future. Try it," they offered quietly, and lifted Sticks' servos again, just for a moment, to spread an ultra-soft polishing cloth under them. A better sensation. "Polishing cloth suitable for delicate sensors. Just... breathe. Your arms will feel a bit weak for some time, and your servos may not move quite right until you get used to them again. You've been working with no surface sensors for a long time, the sensors meant to assess pressure levels. These are much more specific, especially with textures. What do you think, would you rather try..."    
They didn't want to push, didn't want to overwhelm, but they set their fingertips lightly against Sticks' palms. If Sticks wanted, they had only to lift their arms slightly to hold Forceps' servos. "...this? Smooth textures may be easier. Tell me if it gets to be too much, but... give it a moment. Look up at me, Sticks. Are your optics focusing well?"


	4. Chapter 4

Bowline nodded at Patches's assessment. Good. They deserved a smooth recovery. She took a moment to survey the small tin, tilting her helm. Patches seemed determined to help her experience something nice, despite her limitations. Dubiously she held it close to her helm, hoping her olfactory sensors would pick up on it. Her optic brightened, she did smell something. It was an unusual, sharp smell. She grasped Patches by the shoulder, "This is interesting." she said, getting another sniff.  
"Slag, I can smell it from here. Saccharine." Burner said from her reclined spot in Bowline's lap, she'd taken the lollipop out and was twirling it between her fingers "You must be real good at this cooking business if you can get Bowline to react." She popped the candy back in her mouth and took on a scheming squint.   
"So since we can't see them all at once I nominate myself as first visitor, on account of I'm the leader." Salvo blurted out in an attempt to loudly stake his claim.  
Bowline gently put the tin down on the berth next to her before leaning over to where Salvo sat. Salvo squirmed in the inescapable heat of her single, massive optic. For good measure, she gripped the nearest berth, casting a shadow over both him and Draft. "No." Her voice wasn't any different from normal, not a hint of anger or other inflection, but the sentiment was enough. There was no arguing with her, she did not pick fights she could not win.  
Salvo sighed and Bowline leaned back up to her straight-backed posture. "I hope you understand that this I will not compromise on." she said with finality.  
Spade spoke up for the first time in a while, "Regrowing sensors, huh. That explains why I'm so itchy all the time." They put down the strange-shaped tool they had in their servo and held their creation up to the light. It was a sculpture of some sort, shaped like a winged insect, made of scrap metal and some spare mesh. The wings fluttered slightly as they held it still, "Just the kinda artsy slag that softshell enjoys, huh" They seemed almost proud of it underneath a healthy layer of friendly disdain.

Sticks spent a moment staring into space, focusing on the feeling of the polishing cloth as they dragged their fingertips across it. They couldn't tell if it was the texture or their frame reacclimatizing to proper sensors, but the sparking feeling wasn't happening as much. They looked once again into Forceps's optics, "I can see you well enough. It's... just a little hard to concentrate on anything right now."   
Their fingers curled around Forceps's, shakily, very gently, just barely touching them at first. This, they discovered, was much better than the cloth- responsive, with a kind of energy to them that they hadn't noticed before. They kept their optics on Forceps's face as they inched their palm up to weakly grasp their waiting servo. They closed their optics again, there was a lot going on, but they'd be damned if they let go. Once the initial wave of sensation passed, they used their thumb to stroke the back of Forceps's servo, feeling the minute seams and edges they couldn't have noticed before- not that they'd gotten the chance to really examine their servos before. They resisted the urge to look down again, not ready to spoil their calm yet. They opened their optics a crack, "hmm I was missing out."

 

Patches absolutely beamed, winglets fluttering and field pulsing happily, clearly delighted at his success. "I was hoping you'd like that! It's mostly a combination of flavorings and flavor enhancers, with a thickener to keep it in that gel form so it's eaiser to handle. I can try a few others, that one was mostly just me experimenting with different things until something came out right. And my offer to improve your senses still stands- you are, of course, entirely welcome to keep your frame as it is, but... if you want to make a change, I can do that for you. I've remembered a femme I knew briefly, a chemist- she had small panels on her wrists with taste sensors underneath, to taste a compound for composition without ingesting it. An unusual but relatively simple procedure, though it does tend to result in mild synesthesia wherein the processor interprets tastes as containing some aspect of texture. Could hypothetically be done anywhere on the frame. I'm sure there's... at least one person who's had taste sensors placed, ah, somewhere more private," Patches chuckled, then paused, leaning slightly to the side to eye Spade's creation as Bowline- well, very skillfully intimidated Salvo into silence. Nice.   
"And yes, it is. Not much I can do for that, I'm afraid. It should ease soon. If you scratch, do it gently, don't press too hard on the new sensors. Now... if that can fly, please don't release it in here, I'm entirely too short to be trying to catch flying things and the last one that got in here chewed up my net."  
"You were," Forceps murmured, and gave Sticks' servos a gentle squeeze, making firm contact without applying major pressure. "The sensation you're recovering all over your frame is relatively weak, the sensors sparse. This... this is much stronger. You have a lot to reaccustom yourself to. For- for now-"   
Forceps' voice faltered in embarrassment at the thought of doing something profoundly silly, and they sat down next to Sticks, guiding their servos to rest on Forceps' chassis. Raising their own servos, they signed door- locked to Sticks, and sat comfortably close, allowing Sticks to touch. To pet. To, maybe, look down.   
After a moment, they cleared their throat and spoke again, very softly. "You will need to look eventually, you know. It's... not an inherently disturbing site, you know. Your wrists are covered and the weld marks are minimal besides. This is not a truth that needs to be hidden from, Sticks. You're all right," they whispered, their voice oh-so-soft, field pulsing shaky, slightly embarrassed reassurance. This was- they were being silly, they'd started being silly a long time ago, this was ridiculous. The only reason they were still here was Sticks enjoying it. This would have been considerably more embarrassing if it wasn't getting such a positive response, and it still was. What were they doing here? Dear Primus.

Spade was too occupied to notice Burner as she crept up and grabbed the contraption from their servos, "Well let's see." With a deft arm she flung it spinning upwards. Spade only grinned as they watched it right itself and hit the ground with a clear metallic ding, and click as its legs absorbed the shock and sent it flying upwards again, almost as high as it was thrown.   
Spade laughed loudly, "it works! Set some magnets and coils on that thing and it'll generate plenty of energy." Another ding, click! as it bounced off the floor again. Draft bolted upright and caught the contraption midair in one thick servo. Its legs bounced harmlessly once off his plating and then it stopped. He vented steam for a klik before addressing the troublemakers with an even voice, "This is a medbay you degenerates."   
Bowline, satisfied that the issue had been solved, turned to Patches, "I regret I still have much thinking to do, however I will consider your offer." The concept of arm modifications piqued her interest, it'd been a while since she'd thought of her limbs as permanent. She supposed she now had time to consider relearning the finer things in life, now that she had the resources to explore them.

The subtle warmth of Forceps's chassis danced up Sticks's fingertips. They clumsily drew their servo over the surface, again without looking down. It was familiar, but new... strange in a way. They tried to piece together the shapes from what they knew, only partially succeeding. There were subtle seams, scratches that they'd never seen. Their servo traveled up towards Forceps's arm. Their optics were still locked with the other's "Forceps, I've seen rejection. Mental rejection, physical rejection, it terrifies me." they murmured, their servo traveled down Forceps's forearm, "I know you've done a beautiful job. I just..." They reached Forceps's servo and shakily felt for its orientation. Sticks slid their palm under and grabbed their servo as steadily as they could. Their grip was weak and faltering but true, "I need to know that they're mine."   
With a deep in-vent Sticks looked down to see their servo clasped around Forceps's. Beyond the bandages was new, clean plating, undented by wear. Slim, tapered fingers wrapped around Forceps's palm. The medic squad had even found space for some tiny scarlet accents. They squeezed Forceps's servo slightly, watching as the appendage moved at their will, feeling the still-overwhelming sensory input that shot back. They lifted their other servo closer to their face to turn it around, noticing the evenness of the plating until finally they placed it on top of the first. It was all so new, but by every account, they seemed to be entirely theirs.   
Sticks could hardly find words. They felt their optics begin to spark again, this time out of relief, even joy. They laughed tiredly, "They're... I was about to say they look just like my old ones. But... that's stupid," they paused for a moment, tearful staticky laughter, "Th-they're medic-grade, right?"

"I- excuse me! No setting contraptions loose in my medbay! What did I just say?" Patches scolded, managing to look vaguely intimidating over Bowline's lap, then sighed, shook his helm, and looked up at her again. "Hence the need to wait for Sticks to feel up to company. Anyway- I'm also going to remind you that I can make improvements to other parts of your frame, if you want. Servo dexterity takes some fine work, but it is entirely within my skillset. Forceps has been a massive help for tiny details, as well- their alt has microsurgery tools. Also good for removing scar tissue. But- I'll set that aside for now. Do you mind if I run a couple of scans on you? Just to be sure everything in your innards is healing right. And please tell me if anything hurts. I know you probably want to have a medic prodding at you even less than most people, but I will do my best to make things a bit easier. I must say- I used to work with sparklings, and I sincerely prefer adult patients as far as dealing with uncomfortable situations. At least you can tell me if something is making you uneasy, instead of just... crying furiously for the next hour while I try to figure out what's going on. Surprised I'm not deaf," he muttered, lightly patting one audial, helm still cocked almost inquiringly up at Bowline. Partly on purpose- intentionally being cute. Cute, round, soft, talking casually about minorly related but largely unimportant things. Good for setting patients slightly more at ease. Also his general personality.

Forceps, unsure of how to behave, faced with a sudden surge in feelings of 'what am I DOING', almost faltered enough to back away. Almost. They would have, if not for Sticks' focus. This was important. This was vital. Sticks needed support. Forceps didn't trust most of their team to provide said support, either- most of them seemed to mean well, but they were... something else entirely. If they left now, it would be, what- Sticks would absolutely see it as rejection, as abandonment, would no doubt come to all sorts of conclusions. Forceps was not going to leave. Nor were they going to show anything but what Sticks needed. It wasn't... too hard to keep their optics calm. They'd practiced at that. Patients would look to a medic's optics for reassurance, it was good for them to find that even when the medic was internally swearing and somewhat frantically trying to close a gaping wound. Calm. They were going to be calm. It mostly worked, too, their field didn't show any sort of turmoil, though it did flutter strangely at 'beautiful job'.  
Then, a question. A medical question. Forceps grasped for the lifeline, a fraction of relief showing in their optics, then reached to trace a fingertip over the back of Sticks' servo. "As close to your old ones as was practical, and was possible given equipment and lack of exact data. Very similar framework. Digits a fraction longer to allow for slightly more dexterity. The paint, mostly guesswork- thank Acus for that later, he responds well to genuine thanks, has a knack for aesthetics and small details. Technically not medic-grade yet, to add that amount of sensors now would be torturous even with the most input dimming possible, but there is a framework for sensors to grow into and to be added. As far as dexterity, agility, speed of motion... yes. Lot of potential."   
Pit, Sticks was crying again, and Forceps had an instant of sheer panic before realizing that it was good this time. That it was-   
Focus-  
Forceps shifted their weight, glancing away for a second, and their voice began to falter. "I-I cannot promise a lack of rejection with complete certainty, it would be- be irresponsible of me to do so, but you have a- this is a clean medbay, these are new parts, we are very skilled, you are healthy and relatively stress-free, you have th-the highest chance possible of successful integration, there were no issues during surgery, you- you do seem to be responding fairly well so- so far, I'd- I-I need to, ah, to-"   
Pit, what was their sparkrate doing? That fluttering didn't feel healthy, either, that- that couldn't be-  
Frame tensing slightly in alarm, Forceps swayed on their pedes, glancing away more firmly, and lifted their servos slightly, barely understandable through static as they backed away. "-I-I need- need to check something-"   
Wheeling away, they marched over to the door to the operating room, pulled the door open, and walked quickly through, leaving it open less out of intent and more out of forgetting to close it as they pulled a vitals monitor close. They didn't know what they were doing, what was happening with their frame- something was wrong, something was very wrong, sparks didn't just decide to start flickering, that had to be what this was, that-  
It took them a few long moments, standing accidentally in full view of Sticks with the magnetic pads of the monitor affixed to their chassis, staring at the fast-but-normal readouts, to realize that this... probably didn't look good. A quick glance over their shoulder, and they COMMed Sticks to explain- or, rather, tried to. It... didn't work. The link opened, and then they just... couldn't.   
Dear Primus, was it spreading to their COMMs now? It was bad enough not being able to talk right now! Forceps yanked the pads off their chassis with far more force than was necessary, wheeling around with full intent to go and fucking explain themself, realized that they definitely couldn't say anything right now, reconsidered, threw their servos in the air in a blatant "fuck it" gesture, and marched back over to Sticks. Completely robbed of anything like speech, they sat down right next to the smaller bot, took another look at their optics, remembered that expression, and-  
....dear Unicron in the Pit. It was Sticks doing this. And not by actually doing anything, that was clear, they- they couldn't have done anything and Forceps' most recent paranoid thought had been about their own impending spark failure anyway, but...   
Pit.   
Emotions.   
Fucking emotions.   
They needed a drink. They could not go and get a drink, however, Sticks would probably... something. Something not good. Instead of going and getting tipsy, Forceps in-vented deeply, then carefully, oh-so-carefully, gathered Sticks' new servos up. Optics dim and thoroughly embarrassed at their own behavior, they brought Sticks' servos up to their lips, lightly kissed the back of each, and then tucked Sticks' servos under their chin in that same protective gesture. Then, and only then, with Sticks' servos against their throat, did they feel their frame start to relax.  
Fuck this.

Patches watched with mild but noticeable concern as Forceps... evidently checked to be sure they weren't dying, then muttered "sorry, I'm just checking that" and trotted over to the door into the little private room. Was Forceps okay? They didn't like Patches much, tried very hard not to be anything but Stoic around him, but they did have some sort of... anxiety/paranoia disorder that cropped up now and again. Was this that?   
Forceps didn't even notice Patches cracking the door open. They stayed completely silent, completely still, holding Sticks' servos carefully under their own chin.   
...well. First off, Sticks was clearly fine. Forceps... debatably so?? They weren't panicking any more, at least, or they would have been considerably more active. Patches was definitely curious, but... they knew better than to go and poke at Forceps right now. Scalpel maybe could have gotten a response, Patches was just going to get defensiveness. About- oh, well, that was affectionate, wasn't it? That was a very affectionate... entire scene. Goodness.   
...Forceps would not like Patches seeing this. Fully aware of that fact, Patches restrained the initial "aww!" impulse and carefully shut the door again, then tiptoed a few steps before trotting back to the Choir. "They're fine. Forceps- I don't know. Maybe something startled them and they did that for dramatic effect, they're- they can be like that. Sticks is both fine and awake, you'll probably get to see them soon. But it's up to them! If I don't hear anything in a few kliks, I'll ask, but I am not going to push! No pushing," he declared, and moved to sit next to Bowline. He liked her. "Where were we?"  
Bowline wasn't convinced. She pushed herself up to standing, slow enough so Burner could hop off, her optic glued to the recovery room door. She put a gentle but firm servo on Patches's helm, "Not right now, I'm afraid."   
Salvo and Draft were already standing, having reacted immediately to the opening door. "That didn't look fine," Salvo shot, failing to keep his voice down. In response, Draft tacitly gripped his shoulder, evidently concerned enough to forgo a stern word.  
Bowline began to stride to the door. Salvo jerked against Draft's grasp, shooting him a nasty look before watching wordlessly with the rest of the Choir as she stopped a few feet away from the door. She realized the entryway was too small for her to fit in and settled for sitting in front of it the same way she sat on the berth, back straight, servos on her knees, optic forward. She had words for Forceps. She had wanted to catch the two of them in the room together, investigate a hunch. Their recent behavior only added more evidence to her thought, though, if her intuition was correct, her words would not be so well-received until Forceps had calmed down.  
So Bowline sat for a few moments. Salvo turned to Patches, "What's going on -what's really going on? Sticks is up, why can't we see them?" Draft didn't stop him this time, his gaze instead pinned to Bowline.

Sticks, with wide optics, silently watched Forceps calm down. Their running away had been disturbing, their final words so full of static. The klik Sticks spent feeling hurt was immediately overwritten by worry. They... wished their brain was less foggy, they wished they could think better. Something was wrong, they could tell that much. New servo feelings could wait, this seemed critical. They sorted their thoughts as best they could, "S-Something's... Forceps, what's wrong? You- you're silent, you just checked your spark, are you- should I-" Their optics bounced across Forceps's frame, looking for signs of injury, "Should I comm the medbay? Nod for yes, shake for no." Something at the back of their mind was screaming. They knew what was going on. They just... couldn't parse it, the sedatives hadn't worn off enough yet. They internally cursed their incompetence in the face of crisis. They sincerely hoped they'd be able to reach the others before it was too late.   
"Forceps can I- can I do anything-" Sticks was cut short by three loud knocks on the door.  
The medbay was silent. The sound of metal on door left a vacuum in the room where the precursors to speech would be. Not a single bot moved. Bowline let her servo fall to her knee. She sighed deeply, her helm tilted slightly in anticipation. She had set her course of action and would see it through.

Scalpel had also noticed the situation, and, deciding that Forceps would respond slightly better to her than to Patches, proceeded to-  
Well, Bowline was rather in the way of the door, and she was lanky enough to fit through the medbay air vents. Therefore, she climbed up onto a cabinet, slid the grate of the vent aside, and climbed in, with the sort of nonchalance that suggested she'd done this many times before. Sometimes patients locked themselves in side rooms, it was always good to know how to get in without using the door. People didn't usually think to (or have the resources to) block a vent grate near the ceiling.   
Patches made absolutely no attempt to stop Bowline. Not like he'd have much of a chance of doing so, after all, she was much, much bigger than him. Instead, he turned his attention to the rest, his voice still perfectly calm. "Have you ever been put under deep sedation? Not impromptu- deep sedation. It has to almost completely remove your processor's awareness of your frame to prevent an alarm response at having limbs removed. People wake up very groggy. You all are... you are a lot. You would be overwhelming right now. Besides that... sometimes people have rather emotional responses to limb replacements like this. Sticks may not want company other than a medic who's able to explain things. If something was wrong, I promise you, I would say. However, I can't tell you exactly what's going on, I do have to protect my patients' privacy," he explained, and left out the part about also protecting the other doctors' privacy.

Forceps opened their optics again and stroked Sticks' chassis with their free servo, looking somewhere between repentant and embarrassed, trying to reassure them- until the question of calling someone to come and see them like this came up. Forceps' optics snapped wide in clear alarm and they shook their helm, hard, then jumped at the knocks to the door. Pit. Pit. Someone had seen, of course someone had seen, this was the end of anyone taking them seriously, ever, and they'd scared Sticks into the bargain, that was exactly what they'd been trying not to do-  
Scalpel sliding out of the air vent to land neatly on her pedes did not help Forceps' anxiety. Just tripled the embarrassment, to the point where it practically radiated off of them, not even considering their field, as she approached. "Forceps, what... ah. You're havin' a moment, then. Primus, mech, you do not handle emotions well. I'm gonna have to come up with a real good lie, that bunch out there is about ready to punch down the door. Gonna have to tell 'em about the paranoia thing, I think, spin the rest of this somehow. Sticks, you may wanna COMM 'em that yer fine. Send 'em a snap or two, maybe, 'fore Salvo just up an' charges right through that door. Both of you hold still," she muttered, running two quick scans, then sighed and patted Forceps' shoulder. "Deep vents. What, can you not even- Primus, didja embarrass yer COMMs off now? You got it bad. Here."   
Forceps hunched slightly into themself in outright shame, watching Scalpel out of the corner of their optic, and made an odd wheezing noise through their vents as she tossed a spare blanket over them. Yes, thank you, that was- that was actually helpful, now they could just hide and do something like accepting the sudden urge to melt into the berth.  
Scalpel glanced to Sticks, chuckled softly, shook her helm, and walked over to the room door. Opening it just wide enough to get back out, she paused to show Bowline the scene, then stepped out and shut it behind her. Bowline, at least, was sensible, so Scalpel opted to explain the truth, albeit very softly. "They're havin' a moment. Forceps, I don't know- emotions somewhere. Give 'em a few kliks, it's all right. Be gentle with 'em, Forceps is, uh... private. Worried that they won' be taken seriously wi'out a good image. Gonna lie a bit at th' others so Forceps doesn' get too embarrassed to ever get near 'em again. Please go along with it," she muttered, and stepped around Bowline to speak to the rest of the medbay.   
"Alright, look. If you ain't figured it out already, Forceps has a bit of a paranoia issue left over from th' war. They tend to suspect the worst sometimes. That includes occasionally convincin' themselves that they're about t' die of somethin'. They are still an extremely competent medic, their job keeps 'em too focused t' be paranoid, but downtime gets 'em twitchy sometimes. Don't poke 'em about it. Now stop lookin' like yer gonna run through my door! Wouldn't need ta, anyway, you got Bowline here. Could probably sneeze through th' door. Please don't test that," she called, and momentarily glanced over to Patches and his well-disguised look of glee.   
.:Cute, huh Scalpel?:.   
.:S'pose so. Not th' best time:.

Bowline nodded at Scalpel as she passed, processing her image of what was happening inside. Her hunch seemed spot on. The two were similar in ways they probably wouldn't realize until much later, the fools. She decided it was going to be okay. Sticks seemed to have bumbled their way into someone who cared more deeply about them than they probably could admit to themself. Lucky bot. She didn't know enough about Forceps to know what they needed, but Sticks somehow always found a way, consciously or not, to complement the people around them. She sighed deep and closed her optic in preparation for comm feedback, .:Please Forceps, give Sticks what I cannot:.   
Finally with that off her mind, Bowline shifted, turning around instead to sit back against the wall, finally getting out of the way of the door. She had more to say to them but for now that would do. "I see. I will wait here until Sticks is ready for visitors." Bowline said to the medbay at large, "Enjoy yourselves over there."  
Draft straightened up a bit. Whatever Bowline had seen, it put her at ease enough to tear her gaze from the door. This he could trust. "We'll wait our turn then," he said, giving Salvo a small pat on the shoulder before sitting down again. Salvo took the cue and joined Draft.   
Burner sat down on the berth and bent over to eye Patches, "You can cook, you don't happen to know how to brew Engex, do you?"

Sticks couldn't tell what to focus on, between watching Scalpel leave or admiring Forceps's blanket tent. They spotted Bowline's steady optic through the crack, but didn't get enough of a chance to say anything before Scalpel closed the door behind herself. They turned back to Forceps, something in their mind was beginning to click, emotions. Too many emotions even to properly comm. Body paranoia... This was like before, they realized. It was... it was significant.   
"I'm... not very good for your paranoia it seems," they said, chuckling a bit, still too dazed to really put the pieces together. They reached out and gently tugged a bit of the blanket, only getting the slightest bit of it before their grasp failed. Another thought occurred to them, "we should... talk about it. Emotions. Later, once you're calmer. Maybe I'll actually be able to help then."   
They wanted to smile, something about the situation made them... strangely happy. But they stopped themself, Forceps was already too embarrassed, it'd be too mean. Impulse gave them an idea, and their post-surgery haze made it seem like a good one. Hopefully it'd get Forceps's mind off of what was bugging them.   
"Well, I guess I gotta go see everybody now," they said. They shifted their weight onto their elbow, making sure to keep their servos where they wouldn't hit anything if they fell, and tried to kick their way out of the blankets except... except their frame was so heavy.

Patches, trying very hard to disguise his enjoyment, gladly turned to the new subject. "Oh- yes! High-grade, Engex, all sorts of nice drinks, and a few things that are, ah... not quite legal depending on who you ask. I tend to reserve the stronger substances for very special occasions. And I can make them into candies, but that one, I only do with sensible people who know their limits. I do not like having to guide fall-down-drunk people to medbay berths to make sure they don't fry anything from overcharge. That's also a good way to make sure I never brew anything stronger than candies for you again," he commented, shaking a scolding finger at Burner. Pre-emptive scolding. "If you think you can be sensible, though... I have recipes. I have many recipes. Scalpel's decent fun if she's buzzed, too, good stories."

Forceps stayed under the blanket for several long seconds, rather unhappily digesting Bowline's message -what did that mean? were they in the middle of something? had they gotten in front of a relationship of some kind? no, unlikely, Sticks didn't seem like-   
Wait, no, Sticks was trying to leave. Nope! The blanket-heap of Forceps moved to stop them, pushing their legs firmly back down onto the berth, and outright sat on their legs as they squirmed the blanket off so they could look Sticks in the optics. Making a rapid "stay here" patting motion, they in-vented deeply a few times, then sighed and carefully tucked Sticks back into place. No. Time to stay here. Rest. The berth moved, Sticks did not need to be trying to move.   
Another few deep breaths, watching Sticks, looking down at their servos, and Forceps felt their mind start to settle. There was a clear path here, a clear line of things to do. Sticks should see their crew. Forceps should take Sticks to see them, and should present a much better impression than they had a moment ago. Simple. Easy. Optics closing for a moment, they ex-vented long and slow, then stood up, gently patted Sticks' chassis, and neatened the blankets further. There. Pillow behind their helm, blanket over them, soft cloth for their servos to rest on... a nice, soft, calm situation for Sticks. A good impression. They looked tired, but alive, healthy, awake, and intact.   
Having managed to draw themself up enough to look as composed as usual, Forceps unlocked the berth's wheels, opened the door, and pushed the berth out a short distance into the medbay, putting Sticks where they were accessible to the others- then stepping out in front of the berth, immediately, servos up slightly, to block the initial rush. No. No crowding.  
"Oh- there they are! Be gentle, now, no crowding them, keep your voices down a bit!" Patches ordered firmly, 'accidentally' getting in front of Salvo to cut him off for a moment, and stayed watching to be sure it was all right. "Just a little while, okay? They need rest. And no grabbing! Absolutely no grabbing. Hugs are fine, but gently."  
Forceps, trying their best to look composed while not actually looking at anyone, very gently captured one of Sticks' servos. Turning it palm-up, they lightly traced the end of a ball-tipped probe along each of the fingers, starting at the base and ending at the tip, testing the reflexive response to the quick stroke. From there, a gentle, manual flex of each individual joint, a simple test, soft and quiet. Optics on Sticks, just on Sticks, not on anyone else who might ask questions.

Salvo immediately jumped up at the sound of the door opening, reflexes quick. The rest followed suit trying to get a better look around Patches, but none of them moved from their spot. Bowline took a few kliks to draw herself up to full height and walked around to the opposite side of the berth as Forceps. She knelt down again to get a closer look at Sticks. They smiled wide upon seeing her, reaching a tired servo off the side. She brought a finger up to meet it, supporting it much gentler than someone of her stature reasonably should be able to.   
"We are two of a kind now, aren't we?" Bowline said, her optic glowing warmly. She looked down at the new servo, examining it as well as she could, "It matches, too."  
Sticks was absolutely beaming, "they really are amazing I... I can feel things now Bowline. Your servo, it's warm." They gripped her finger slightly.  
Bowline's optic wavered for a moment, "Yes, I suppose it is." She then turned to Forceps, fixing her gaze on their face as they worked. She simply watched for a bit, almost inscrutably, thinking. "Forceps, are you available for appointments? I have been having problems with comm feedback that I would like to get sorted out." Her helm was almost unnervingly still.   
"Yeah we never did fix that, huh," Sticks said, patting Bowline's finger, "We need to convince Draft to get his checked too."  
Salvo was getting impatient again. He vaulted over Patches and jogged to the berth, behind him followed Burner and Draft at a walking pace.  
"What was that, Sticks?" Draft called from afar.   
"I said update your comms, you old nut," Sticks said as loud as they could, which wasn't very loud.  
Draft smiled in relief, Sticks seemed at least a bit as frisky as they usually were. Salvo meanwhile, arrived at the berth. He grabbed the end with both servos and leaned in, "Lookit those shiny brand new servos."   
Bowline let Sticks's servo down gently on the side of the berth and backed away to make room for Salvo and the newly-arrived Burner. She continued her gaze as Salvo went in for a hug, only to be told to ask first by Sticks, then told yes, he could. She stared through Burner patting Sticks on the helm much to their distaste. She watched.

Forceps tensed slightly at the approach of the femme who had seen them being ridiculous, and only lifted their helm at being directly addressed. Not that they could speak. Not now. Not with an audience including her. At least she wasn't laughing. A quick COMM flash out to Acus to pass the information off, and they kept- well, doing their best to look productive. Out of the way at first, and then checking Sticks' pulse, then just outright moving to check their arm flexibility. Stalling, waiting, silently praying that they would leave now. Forceps was trying to monitor their patient. And be here to support Sticks in case Sticks started crying again. And look competent. That was important too.   
Acus slipped out of their cabinet and quietly approached the group, circling around to get to Bowline, winglets in a moderately cautious position. "Hello, miss. You're having COMM issues? I'm, ah- probably your best option here. Smallest servos. Forceps seems to be" a very slight pause, Acus somewhat confused due to not having seen what had happened before "...rather focused. May I take a look at your COMM unit? We could step off behind a curtain if you'd prefer. I need a pinpoint scan and a relatively simple physical exam, nothing terribly personal, and it should not be unpleasant," he said softly, looking up at her, body language just slightly concerned. Then again, he usually looked slightly concerned when relative strangers were present and he wasn't very thoroughly distracted. Bowline being... rather large... was not helping terribly. Not by any fault of hers, she seemed stable and calm. Acus was just timid. Explained somewhat by the old marks on his frame and, especially, around his neck. He wasn't flinching, though, he was here and ready to help.

Bowline stared at Forceps for a moment longer before turning to look down at Acus. Her optic was big enough to just about get the whole of the bot in one glance. She took in his scars, his posture, his stature in a split-klik. Forceps seemed to have, unwittingly or not, foiled her plan. She couldn't say no to this timid bot. She'd have to find another way to meet with them. It wouldn't be a total loss, though, a coworker could be a wealth of information, and it was a desperately-needed fix. Bowline nodded and stood up, "Privacy would be appreciated."  
She looked back to Sticks one last time. They caught her optic, a split second look of distress crossed their face until they saw Acus and sighed, explanation received, "Go on! Get your comms fixed. Acus is good at what they do."  
Bowline followed Acus into a cordoned off berth and sat down on the floor next to it, leaning against the side. She was still significantly taller than the other bot but hopefully the leg up from the berth would help. "Truth be told, I was hoping Sticks would do these repairs. But it seems they are not qualified for it, and won't be for a while." Bowline said, training her optic on Acus, "I do not much like my helm touched, but I will be brave for someone who knows what they are doing."   
She had more to say, more to ask, but didn't want to intimidate the poor bot. Now was not the time, not yet at least. She extended a servo, palm up to him, putting it low to the ground. Sticks rode on her shoulders enough for her to know how to get smaller frames up to her head without issue.

 

Burner hopped up on the berth next to Sticks to make room for Draft and Spade to finally join the contingent. She leaned over closer to Sticks's face. Her eyes darted from Sticks to Forceps for a klik, "This who you've been spending your time with?" she said, a devious look on her face.   
"Y-yeah this is Forceps, they're... uhh, they're my mentor," Sticks said, looking a bit sheepish, "They're in charge of my medic training."  
"You'll learn to fix us better then," Spade said, laying their contraption at the foot of the berth.  
"As a matter of fact, I will," Sticks replied, slightly resigned, "What's that, Spade?"  
"It's uhh... well-" Spade started.  
"Don't drop it," Draft cut in, looking slightly annoyed.  
Spade shot a dirty look at Draft and continued, "It's a prototype perpetual motion machine, I dressed it up like those things you liked the uhh... songbirds? Slag one of the wings fell off." Spade ducked under the berth to look for the fleeing part. Sticks couldn't stifle a tired laugh at the mention of the creature's name. Oh Forceps, they were sorry. They looked over at the aforementioned medic and saw them once again staring intently at their new servo. Sticks gently brought their fingers together in acknowledgement, they had noticed Forceps's nervous puttering a few minutes ago but were finally cogent enough not to call attention to it.  
Spade returned with the lost wing and stuck it back in its place, "Anyway I thought you'd appreciate something mindless to keep you company while you're recovering. And maybe you could reverse-engineer it with your new servos, who can say."  
Sticks's gesture was not missed by Burner, whose grin grew slightly, "So Sticks, how's your... training going?"  
Sticks was a little off-put by the question, though they suspected it was inevitable, they had been too busy to talk much with many Choir members other than Bowline, "It's... been going fine? It should go quicker now that I can feel my fingers."  
Draft knew what Burner was doing, what she was implying. He laid a servo on Burner's shoulder now, squeezing hard enough to warn but not to do damage, "I think a more important question here is how are you feeling Sticks?"  
Sticks looked a little warily at Draft's response, they could tell what Burner was getting at now too. About time they could piece something together. They realized they'd have to tell them all eventually about... whatever it was Forceps and they were doing. But, well, it needed a name first.

The first attempt at introspection revealed a wave of exhaustion. They'd been holding things back for others again. Though their friends played a wonderful distraction from the variety of things they could be bothered by, those things couldn't stay in the back of their mind forever. They took a deep in-vent and let it out. Their wrists were beginning to ache. They could feel the precursors of a headache nagging at their temples.   
"I'm... tired, Draft. It's all kind of a lot," their smile was somewhat of a grimace.   
Salvo put a tender servo on Sticks's head, "yeah, I bet, buddy. We can leave you be." He shooed Burner off the berth and then paused, just now taking the time to look at Forceps. His expression had more sympathy in it than the medic was used to. He reached over the berth and hesitated for a moment before gently squeezing Forceps's shoulder, "Hey, uhh... I know we're not really on good terms but... Thanks for taking care of Sticks."

Acus' winglets perked into a slightly more confident pose once away from the group, and he hesitated for only an instant before stepping into her servo. He'd done this before. Never sure how he felt about being supported entirely by someone's servo, though, he wasn't quite used to catching himself if he fell. A soft in-vent, and he leaned in slightly to do his work, resting his servo lightly on the side of Bowline's helm without really touching anything. "Your unease is fully understandable. If you need to stop, please let me know. And no, Sticks is- is not qualified. Yet. This is very delicate work that they are physically incapable of doing at the moment. Running a scan now," he warned, and slowly ran a careful, pinpoint scan of her COMM unit. "Mm. Nothing surprising. Sand. Probably some of these wires are badly corroded. A few replacements and a thorough cleaning should do the job. Now, this is... not going to be comfortable. I have a topical anesthetic I can use, a spray, once the cover of the unit is off. Would you prefer localized numbness, or the discomfort of unplugging wires?" he asked quietly, sounding soft but confident, clearly comfortable in what he was doing. This was simple. He knew what he was doing. Bowline was calm and gentle so far, and Acus simply kept his fingertips against her COMM unit cover, waiting for an answer and trying to accustom her to the touches.

 

Forceps had been trying to intentionally ignore most of the crew. When Salvo touched them unexpectedly, they didn't quite jump, but they twitched, hard, though the motion didn't spread into their servos. They'd long since learned not to move their servos when working, no matter what. That risked harming a patient. Helm lifting slightly, they regarded Salvo with something of a skeptical expression, then nodded exactly once. Yes. Okay. Salvo was welcome. Not that this was done for Salvo. It was for Sticks.   
Songbird.   
Despite the clinging, semi-hidden unease, Forceps smiled the tiniest fraction at the reminder of the nickname, optics momentarily fixing on Sticks' face. Such a sweet thing. Poor awkward mech. Resisting the urge to cuddle them close, they in-vented deeply and visibly relaxed as everyone left, and pushed Sticks' berth back into the side room as soon as it was possible and wouldn't quite look like fleeing. Or, at least, it would look like fleeing on Sticks' behalf, because they were starting to look tired and sore, poor bot. Gentle, gentle.  
Once in the room, Forceps shut and locked the door, then made a wheezing, groaning noise through their vents and flopped down facefirst right next to Sticks. Relieved to be alone again (or mostly), they laid like that for a few kliks, the embarrassment bleeding away from their frame. Oof. Dear Primus that had been a bad one. Normally their paranoia made them look unusually suspicious, not... that. Not like a paranoid little fool. Pit.   
-wait. Sticks. Lifting their helm slightly, they curled onto their side and lightly stroked Sticks' chassis, looking them over for real. "Are you in pain? The lower lights and lack of stimulus should help somewhat. The wrists... there is a limit to what I can do there, a transplant is by definition going to ache, but I can put heat packs around your wrists to help ease the discomfort. Low stress will help you heal, and- and I-"   
Their voice faltered, but stayed, and they shut their optics for a moment as they spoke. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Sticks, sweetie."  
Hm, no. There was affection in that, but "sweetie" was what Patches called nearly everyone when he was concerned. Wrong tone. They needed a better term of endearment.

Bowline thought for a moment, "Anesthetic... yes." The prospect of actually doing something was beginning to throw her off again. She managed to sit through Patches's integration of her new sensors. It shouldn't be too much of an issue to just replace some wiring... in theory. "I cannot feel much already... Sticks would talk to me when they were near my helm so I could tell where they were. I believe that helped." she was beginning to get back on track again, something important to focus on would distract her from what she couldn't see, "What kind of person is Forceps?" More blunt than she would have liked, but she could forgive herself. She couldn't employ her usual tact over such levels of latent unease.

Sticks turned to face Forceps, an amused grin pulling at their face. Forceps was beginning to sound like Patches. They wouldn't joke about it, no. Forceps seemed tired, exhausted. Sticks was getting better at reading them, they realized. Holding themself together through emotions and pain seemed to be a regular occurrence and sometimes the toll showed. Sticks didn't see why they couldn't heal at the same time. It took a bit of effort to roll over onto their side again to face Forceps, but they managed. Gravity's pull on their wrists was beginning to wear, the aching only getting worse, but they slowly, tiredly shifted both servos under Forceps's chin, closing them into loose fists as before. Their brain was spent, their voice weak, but still they spoke,   
"Just... stay with me Forceps. I'll be alright."

"Understood. I have my servos here to help accustom you to the sensation, one just behind your COMM unit, one over the unit. I am going to use a probe to undo the latches behind the cover plating so I can access the wires. This should not hurt, though it may be somewhat loud, I suspect there is sand in the latches," Acus warned softly, and took one servo away, pulling the tool from subspace to show to Bowline. A long, thin probe with a flattened tip and a slight hook at the end, almost mistaken for a large needle at first glance, that Acus carefully slid into a tiny seam and twisted to undo a latch. The plating lifted away slightly, and he did the same with the next latch, then the next, then showed her the removed plating before tucking it into a small compartment on his forearm.  
"Now I need to spray the anesthetic, and then I am going to avoid touching this area until it sinks in to avoid my servos being numbed. Another noise," he offered, using a spray can to quickly coat the exposed COMM unit in the numbing agent, and thought for a few long moments as he waited. "Forceps is... interesting. I am not fully familiar with them because they... well, I tend not to respond well to... you- you must understand, Forceps has been nothing but kind to me. I have had..." a long pause "significantly negative experiences in the past with mechs who fit the same general profile of authoritarian confidence. And Forceps is... extremely straightforward, sometimes brusque. I... do not know them well enough to feel entirely comfortable with them, and they are fully aware of this, so they... make no effort to interact with me aside from work endeavors. I did not ask this of them, nor did Scalpel, but they... saw how I responded to them, and decided it would be best if they left me alone."   
A deep breath, then Acus sighed and shut his optics for half a klik. "You should trust them with your friend. They are occasionally paranoid beyond reason, sometimes paranoid within reason, and inherently suspicious of many people, but... they are not violent beyond shoving people around when the situation merits, and they are not manipulative. I am anxiety-prone, and I trust them. You can as well. Now- may I start removing wires? There is a good deal of sand in this mechanism, dear Primus."

 

Forceps, optics shut, tucked Sticks' servos close and edged under the blanket with them to share the warmth. Picking up the corner of the electric blanket, they tucked it around Sticks' wrists and placed their servos over that, offering the warmth and reassurance. "Rest. Deep vents. You'll probably want to recharge soon. Go with what your frame wants, and tell me if you get hungry."   
.:Dear Primus. That was a terrible impression. Your crew is never going to take me seriously, they're going to think I'm... some sort of paranoid idiot. I apologize for that. I am absolutely staying despite that, I will not leave unless you want me to, but... I am not likely to respond well to... mockery. I am sorry. Please... ignore my embarrassment as much as you can. Relax. What- what can I do for you? Aside from... coming up with a less ridiculous pet name. Do... you...:. now blushing far enough, out of something like mortification, that it spread down to their throat, .:want me to hold you? My apologies for... momentarily panicking:.

Bowline stayed still and tried to simply process his words for a moment. She couldn't see Acus's face but his faltering speech told her the heaviness locked behind what he said. Normally she would have known what to say but the creeping dread seemed to be taking up too much processing power to really plan anything. Perhaps she would talk to him later about it. "I see... Proceed," she was losing it again, focus! "It is... not violence I am worried about. Sticks knows to avoid violence wherever possible. They are, however, prone to getting extremely attached to those who show them just the slightest bit of care, and are not good at parsing between signs of affection and regular interactions." Airing Sticks's emotional laundry wasn't ideal, nor was it what she intended to do, but she continued, "Sticks is in very deep. I can see it in their optics. They radiate affection in a way that I have seen before. In a way that-" she stopped herself. That was too far. One does not just tell one's best friend's coworker about that. "I should not be telling you information you do not need -nor likely want- to know." Her voice came out lower than expected, the slightest bit stern.  
It was shameful, she could feel herself slipping slowly into a deep anxiety. With nothing to occupy her mind, she could choose to continue speaking and risk revealing things better left hidden, or to stay silent and risk whatever it meant for her to fully panic. The unknown factor was too great, "I am... sorry, small one. I have revealed things I should not have, which puts you in an awkward position. It seems I still have a while to go before I find my... my limits." She paused, grasping for something, anything, "C-can you tell me about something nice?"  
Sticks could feel the heat of Forceps's embarrassment on the backs of their servos. Their optics widened a bit at the sensation. It was a more intimate tell than they knew what to do with. .:Yes... please:. the suggestion inspired a pinging feeling in the sensors on their back, anticipation, absence, demanding attention. .:I... wouldn't worry about it. If Scalpel told them it was paranoia, like it was, they'll understand:. Sticks shifted a bit to get more comfortable, .:We all have experience with reactions like that. Salvo has great trouble dealing with anxiety. For whatever reason, once he gets to a certain point he... breaks. He doesn't know where he is and walks off in this awful daze, completely ignorant of what's around him, singing this broken song:. They paused, trying to get the melody out of their head, .:One time we were under fire from another squad and he up and walked off, straight into their fire. He almost died. We all almost died:.   
Sticks was silent again. It was easier to talk about through comms, less mess with inflection. Their voice was too tired to continue anyway. .:That... wasn't the only time that happened either. Please believe me when I say they take it seriously. Nobody could joke about that. The worst you'll get from them is pity:. A nostalgic smile flit across Sticks's face .:We poke fun at each other, sure, but only for things we can control. Never for those we cannot:.

"I don't know how Forceps will interact with that," Acus admitted softly, servos pausing, then resumed and pulsed a quick hum of medic-reassurance-comfort to his patient. Professional reassurance, mostly, but with a tinge of true, personal comfort. The best he could do.   
And then... something nice? What did people think was nice? Acus thought for a moment, disconnecting a few wires, then shrugged one shoulder and spoke in a quiet, almost-happy voice. "One of the mechs on the ship, Blackspark, is carrying. I don't know if you've met him- very dark plating, back and flanks covered in knives, white optics, showing heavily. He's less active than normal, the bitlet is putting a lot of strain on his systems and he's napping frequently. He and the bitlet are healthy and doing well, and the bitlet should be born fairly soon. He's been... collecting genetic code, essentially, finding as many secondary sires as he can and specifically selecting for intelligence and, ah, common sense. I declined, but he... evidently managed to successfully proposition Soundwave, as the bitlet's last scan showed some distinctive datacables. I've been... greatly enjoying watching the progress, I was forged after the war started and I haven't worked with carriers before. Would you... like to see a few snaps of scans? I have his permission to share them," he offered quietly, a little smile creeping its way through his field.

Forceps, glad for the allowance of the comfort, snuggled up close as gently as possible. .:...that's good to know. Please just... forget that happened. I'll be aware of Salvo as well. And do inform them that I do not want their pity! I am- you've seen. I am normally thoroughly collected. But you-:. Forceps couldn't resist the urge to grip and jostle Sticks' shoulder, exasperated, upset, and somehow fond, .:-you are getting emotions in my collectedness. I have been perfectly fine up until now, reasonable degrees of affection and all, and then you go and get so invested in my making noises during interface, start- start giving me that expression, and the laughing, and I-I find myself-:.   
Another pause for a thoroughly exasperated gesture at the air, careful not to bump Sticks, .:you broke me. I'm broken. Scalpel gets involved with Acus and it only manifests in her being more protective, which honestly doesn't do him any harm. I get involved with someone, entirely by mistake, and in the course of several hours I suspect you of drugging me and then myself of being about to die. Fuck me. No, literally- as soon as you feel up to it, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can, if I'm going to be ridiculous I may as well enjoy it. I'll show you what to do with those servos of yours to, ah. Further exploit that... loophole in my vocal issues:.   
That blush had begun to fade, but was now returning with a vengeance as Forceps leaned in to kiss Sticks' forehelm. .:And I need a better pet name for you. Something... not lewd. I'm sure I could come up with something terribly lewd, but... something else, hm. Your potential comes to mind, little one. What if I call you... Ember. Little Ember:.

.:Hm. No, that's... cute, but not quite there. A bit childish. I like the idea, though. You are... embers, now. You have the potential to become something of a roaring flame, skills involved. Also, ah... flaming hot in berth. Let me see... flame. What else can I do with... ah. I have it. Starling. My star-in-potentia. Budding flame:.

Bowline moved slightly. Her optic lit up, "A child." She'd never encountered a sparkling before -even smaller and more defenseless than her usual company. "Yes, I would like to see a scan as a matter of fact." That was something nice. New life. After all the death and pain she and the Choir had seen- that no doubt the entire ship had seen. It would be a nice change of pace. It would be... something to look forward to. She felt the anxiety recede a little, her mind savoring a new thing to think about that wasn't immediately distressing, but rather hopeful. "Blackspark is likely very proud. I will have to ask him how he managed to frag Soundwave."

.:You are not broken, Forceps. I assure you. You have to acknowledge your emotions, accept them as they are. Without... without shame:. Something clicked in Sticks's mind, a realization they probably should have had before, had it not been for the... well... everything. The gate to the reasonable part of their brain opened just enough to make their spark skip. Their optics widened, glowing brightly in the dimness of the room. They met Forceps's gaze and stared, searching for something, some hint of hesitation, some tell, but finding only the tired optics of someone who cared, very deeply. They couldn't help but laugh, low, soft, joyous, disbelieving, warm. They could be their Starling. It promised light, warmth, life. It was a defiance to cold, dead Styx. They traced their thumb under Forceps's chin. Slowly, sweetly they brought their lips together. Sticks met Forceps's blush, their fans kicking up a notch and optics closing in what could only truly be described as relief.   
.:I think... I think you love me, Songbird:.  
They leaned into the kiss a fraction, .:And that makes me happy because I love you too:.

 

Ah- that had worked! Acus smiled a fraction and gladly sent several snaps over a short-range COMM, scans of a little sparkling tucked up in a ball in what was evidently someone's gestation tank. Long digitigrade legs ending in claws were tucked up against the tiny chassis, a pair of wing-buds perked from its back, and the whole frame was wrapped in a loose halo of what were, on close inspection, clearly data-cables. "Perfectly healthy, and an interesting genetic combination. Two primary sires, to begin with. There was a... minor incident a few days ago, though. Normally, claws on bitlets are covered in natural caps to prevent any damage to the inside of the tank. This bitlet didn't develop a proper cap on one pede and managed to kick through- well, the gestation tank at this point is closed by a membrane covering where the bitlet will emerge. The bitlet managed to pop that, so I had to artificially cap the claws and add a replacement membrane. A... relatively routine complication, as it were. Not entirely uncommon, and not dangerous when properly treated, as this was. Not even a surgical fix, easily fixed by parting the stomach cables." 

.:Hyperbole,:. Forceps muttered, optics brightening a fraction at Sticks' enjoyment, and firmly pressed down the alarm that surged again when Sticks laughed and their spark did something strange again. That was- ohh, goodness. That was affection, wasn't it? Something akin to infatuation, perhaps, but- ohh, that was emotion. Strange, strong emotion, but emotion, and nothing else. Sticks was-   
Oh. Yes. Okay. Okay, that... Sticks' explanation made sense. Forceps didn't know what love felt like, but, hey, this was probably about right. Not that they could respond, aside from leaning into the kiss and holding them close, their mind had completely forgotten how to vocalize at all. Too much. Too much... sappiness, fluff, emotion, too much of everything, dear Primus it was a wonder people got anything done with this sort of emotion going on. Forceps stayed pressed into the kiss until their spark started to settle, then sighed, leaned back, and simply stared at the smaller mech for a moment. Hm. What was it about Sticks that had... this?   
Emotions were strange. That was all right for now, they were in private. They just... had to breathe, had to be steady, had to keep their strong emotions in private. That- that was reasonable.   
So... what did they do now? A few blinks, then they kissed Sticks again for a moment, managing to get their metaphorical voice back. .:I... find myself agreeing. No evidence otherwise. Now, ah... I... need to figure out how to keep my... hm, less stoic moments private. I do need to seem respectable, this is... soft and a bit silly and definitely something for private areas and not professional ones. While I figure out how to keep myself steady... what do you want to do?:.

 

"That sounds painful." Bowline said, admiring the pictures, "When I was young I could not fathom the idea of carrying. It seemed pointless. Something only the privileged and frivolous could have the resources to do. There was too much unrest to choose to bring another life into the world. I do not believe I was wrong for thinking this way at the time." She sighed, "But war has devastated our numbers, and for those of us remaining it has devastated our minds as well. To carry is no longer a frivolous pursuit. It is almost courageous in a way. I can only hope this new life can remain untouched by conflict." She was silent for a bit, evidently this had struck a long-hidden nerve.   
"Acus, what happened to Cybertron? I have been trying to piece together what we have missed and have found some rather worrying things." Bowline said at last.

Sticks shut their optics and snuggled in close, their exhaustion was starting to get the better of them. .:Steadiness will come in time like any practiced thing. Find pride in what you can and ride out what you can't. This will be an adventure. We'll figure it out together:. There were things to consider, like their job, their coworkers, their patients, but that was for tomorrow. Right now they had each other, they had a berth and a room to themselves, and the warmth between them. Sticks had a serene smile on their face as sleep put its gentle servos on their head, sending out one final comm before drifting off, .:For now... just stay with me:.

 

Working quietly, Acus continued to unplug and clean wires, occasionally removing one outright, and spoke in a soft, contemplative tone. He was calm now, quiet, confident. "Cybertron... essentially, starved. Drained beyond normal functioning by the war, it went into a dormant state to survive. That's what you've heard of. Now, it's... slowly, waking up. Old energon mines are beginning to show traces of new growth, and the native energy lines are running again. The planet is still not terribly healthy, but it is alive, and the wildlife is beginning to recover somewhat. It is, with caution not to put major strain on its resources, inhabitable. We are out here to look for others, not because Cybertron is incapable of sustaining life. There is hope. We need to be careful, but... there is hope," he whispered, winglets perking further, then leaned slightly to the side to offer Bowline a quietly confident expression. "Same for your COMM unit. I need to replace a few wires here, but once I've done that, reattached a few more wires, and finished cleaning away the sand, this unit should be working properly. Are you feeling all right?"  
.:Of course,:. Forceps replied, and held Sticks close, waiting for them to fall asleep.   
Once they did, Forceps grumbled quietly and COMMed Scalpel, tone soft and thoroughly repentant. .:Apologies. This was... not an expected situation:.  
.:Ain't yer fault. Emotions are li'l slaggers. Try an' get put back together a bit further, but... yeah, that happens. 's okay. Do yer best:.

 

Part of the ship had been converted into a public area, and a chunk of that was something vaguely like a tavern. A large room with a long bar at one end, with plenty of tables and booths, some of which could be hidden by curtains for a bit of sound-muffling, plus a large open space for dancing or assorted mingling. Next door was a media/sleepover room of sorts, lined with couches, pillows, and multiple viewscreens, but the interesting thing for now was in the bar. Well- partly Duo, the silver-green twins intertwined with each other and using what added up to eight collective arms to mix and/or juggle drinks, but they'd done this before. Mostly, the ship's crew was curious about their new arrivals.   
Blackspark had gotten Bracer to haul in a comfortable armchair for him, and was sitting relatively near the bar, watching whoever was near him. The reason for his sitting down was clear; his normally lanky stomach was plump, a sharp contrast with the angles of his slender frame, the near-vantablack muscle cables a shade of grey from being stretched. Pure white optics gleamed happily as one of the twins passed him a drink, and he bared deep black fangs in a grin, only visible thanks to the relatively bright lighting. In dim light, he became nothing more than a shadow.   
Bracer himself was sitting at a booth specifically designed for large bots, looking quietly cheerful, sipping at a large drink and electing to look friendly and approachable rather than trying to get near anyone else. He was a big mech, and sometimes accidentally intimidated people when trying to make friends, so he'd stay over here and see if anyone got curious.

"-said it would be somewhere around-" Salvo stopped, poking his head through the door, "Damn, I think we're here."   
Burner pushed past him through the doorway and surveyed the room. She seemed in full 'all attention on me' mode, shifting her weight to cock her hip just the way she'd practiced. Her search for femmes was halted by the bar. With an accompanying cackle, she skipped over, seductively sliding into one of the barstools.   
Draft emerged just behind Salvo, looking a little off-put. Upon seeing the room mostly empty he sighed and walked in, holding Salvo's servo. It was about time to meet the rest of the members on the ship. He'd opted to leave his defaced decepticon insignia in their room to avoid the unnecessary awkward conversations. Primus, it'd been a while since he was in a social gathering, they just didn't get any easier did they. He found a table near the corner to sit down at. Salvo kept standing, "You don't want to go mingle?"   
Draft grumbled, "Not really my thing. Might join in later if I can get drunk enough."  
"Alright well I'll let you know who's who later," Salvo said, leaning over to peck Draft on the helm before walking away.  
A short-lived blush disappeared from Draft's face as his servo left Salvo's. He didn't think he'd quite get used to such public displays of affection.

One of the booths in the corner, hidden by shadows, looked as though someone had left a heap of scrap metal at it. At the sound of new arrivals, though, the scrap metal uncurled, large pieces of armor sliding aside as Avalon sat up straight and shuffled everything back into place. Avalon was an odd-looking mech- wide orange optics half-hidden behind dark goggles, the lower half of his face concealed by a mask that looked more like a slitted muzzle than anything, wearing what looked almost like a cloak of scrap metal. None of that was his, clearly, it was all either dead-mech grey or hadn't been living metal at all. A crane arm and a mining drill jutted from his upper back, and, after a moment, a pretty little bronze-gold mech stepped out from somewhere under the plating in his side and climbed up to sit on his shoulder. That was Milu. An odd contrast, this big, strange decorator-crab of a mech and his tiny friend perched on his shoulder like a little parrot.   
Some of the booths had been modified to have higher areas of seating, allowing smaller bots to sit at roughly optic-level with others. Sharpshot, ignoring those seats entirely, ducked out of the air vent, walked a short distance along the shelf set just below it, and stepped from there to the top of a cabinet behind the bar. This was, evidently, a common habit of his. Relatively common among sniper minibots and others of that ilk.  
Scalpel did not arrive via the air vents, though she was physically capable of doing so. She preferred to walk through doors most of the time, especially when accompanied by Acus, as she was now. He wasn't the best at climbing through air vents. Pausing in the doorway to check for anyone overly rowdy, she surveyed the entire room, catching the tail end of Burner's showoff but not quite taking notice of it.   
Acus, however, did. Scalpel wasn't oblivious, but she was less prone to closely watching everyone. Acus saw an unusual pattern of behavior, watched it, and picked up on... hm. Flirting. Which was... a rather... attractive thought, honestly, even he and his minimal libido were not above the occasional passing thought about Scalpel enjoying herself with someone. So, reaching up to lightly touch her arm, Acus pricked his winglets, whispered "she's been trying to get your attention, go- go give it", and nudged ever so slightly at the back at her arm.  
Scalpel lifted her own winglets, contemplative, then glanced down at him, smirked with a quick flash of fang, and went for it. Went for it with all she had, armor lifted, winglets up and spread slightly to display the sharp edges, putting herself in full-on Dom Strut. A slight sway to her hips, a click of her claws with every step, and an icy flame in her optics. Fully aware that Acus had stopped halfway to a booth to watch her, winglets quivering, half a degree away from drooling. He'd always liked this walk. Probably would have jumped into her arms on the spot if she'd been aiming it at him. She was not, however, and she slid onto the barstool next to Burner with one optic on Duo (they were usually up to something) and most of her attention on Burner's responses.   
Duo weren't about to be of any help one way or the other. They'd gotten wrapped up in a... discussion? It seemed? They weren't saying anything aside from occasional clicks or hums, but they were nudging each other's servos about and certainly looked like they were discussing something. Presumably over their bond. Something to do with flavoring additives.  
Blackspark, meanwhile, sat up a bit straighter in what was clearly his chair, having been shredded in the past despite his best efforts to keep his spines tucked in, and lifted his cube at Salvo. "Oi! You wanna get 'im a drink once those two stop bein' distracted? They got good recipes."

 

Salvo perked up at being addressed. He gave a quick wave to Blackspark followed by a thumbsup and jogged over to the bar, making sure to avoid Scalpel who seemed... somewhat preoccupied? Burner was clearly living up to her name. Visibly flustered by the attention, she leaned a barely-composed elbow on the bar and met Scalpel's optics with a smug grin. Salvo, standing next to her could feel her leg jiggling in excitement. Go, femme, get it, he cheered internally, half from friendly pride and half from a desire for her to stop whining for once about missing interfacing. He let out a short chuckle and listened in.  
"So me and a few other MTOs in my platoon decided to start a band. We had a few months on the way to the drop location, ya see. I learned guitar, of course." Burner bragged, "Got good enough to perform a few times. Even had an audience the last one! Course our vocalist had to drop out- nerves yanno- I picked up his slack and ended up doing both parts at once."  
That was not how Salvo remembered it going. But who was he to spoil her fun? If Scalpel ever indulged her she'd find out soon enough Burner's attention didn't split well between voice and instrument. He smirked, at last turning his attention to the bartender...s. They weren't even looking at him. He cleared his throat to try to get their attention.  
"Ah." Bowline's signature monotone voice traveled over from the entrance, "It seems we have arrived. Regardless, Sticks, Spade, I hope you read the datapads I gave you. I have glossed over some rather important events that are described in more detail there. Maybe you can help explain to Burner and Salvo just what happened."  
From behind her massive frame, two tiny ones entered the room. Spade immediately strode over to the table where Draft sat and began to quietly people-watch. Sticks stayed near the doorway, they still had light bandages on their wrists. It took a few steps for Bowline to notice they weren't following them. She turned, helm cocked slightly.  
"I said I'd wait for them if they wanted to come," Sticks said, "If they don't show in 15 I'll come join you, okay?"  
Bowline nodded, "Send me a comm if you are not feeling well. I can take you back to your room."  
Sticks nodded, smiling as they made a 'shoo' motion with one of their new servos.   
Bowline scanned the room and opted for the booth for bigger bots, sliding in across from Bracer. "I hope you do not mind the company, I am Bowline."

 

Hm. Promising start, that excitement. May as well be as blunt as possible. Leaning in slightly, Scalpel lowered her voice and smirked, gesturing lightly to Burner's servos. "Yeah? Anythin' else entertaining you can do with those? I saw you showin' off... think I got a decent idea what you want outta tonight. Put that energy inta somethin' fun for us both," she suggested, baring her fangs in a little smirk, leaning in slightly further- halfway for privacy, halfway for impression. Best not to dom too hard in public, especially not at first. Might spook her target. But, if Burner seemed receptive... that would be a signal to spread it on a bit thicker. Maybe initiate some sort of touch.

Duo poked more vigorously at each other for a moment, then snorted, huffed, grinned, and bumped their forehelms together in a quick, affectionate gesture before turning their attention to Salvo. Taking inspiration from at least one cheesy movie, Syringe leaned slightly across the bar counter, and Scissors did absolutely the same thing against his brother's back, pulling three different glass containers out from under the bartop to polish. Probably they were being cheesy on purpose. "Hello, friend! Drinks? Preferred recipe?"  
"Company's what I'm here for," Bracer hummed, and- well, attempted to lightly bump his shoulder against hers, a common greeting among larger construction-mechs, but was thwarted by the table. Not that he seemed embarrassed. "I'm Bracer. Wanted to come meet your team. Also I make a good perch for some of the little bots. You, uh- you thirsty? Don't know what your sense of taste's like, but those two" a short gesture towards Duo where they were stacked on each other "can make some really interesting stuff. Some of it tingles. If someone asked, I'm sure they'd be happy to aim for the sort of, um, textures instead of outright taste. Also they're fun to watch- split-spark twins, and all those arms." 

Forceps had evidently been occupied with something, as they were still cleaning their servos with a cloth as they got to the door. This was... vaguely pointless, they weren't one for social interactions like this and they'd already met the Choir, but the promise of drinks had gotten their attention. Duo were far too energetic for Forceps to enjoy interacting with them, but it turned out they made interesting bartenders. They just had to distinctly label things that were not safe for bots other than them to consume in significant amounts.

Sticks, upon seeing Forceps walk in, leaned over from their post near the door and lightly hopped to their side, snaking an arm around their elbow. They hadn't seen each other all day. Sticks had holed themself up in a room to start on the base structure of the database code -slow going with new fingers and a rusty mind. It was a frustrating task which made the promise of a party even sweeter. They commed Forceps .:More for show than anything else, if you want me to leave you to yourself just say:.  
Salvo stroked his chin, eyeing the twins first, then the wall behind them. After a few moments of making neither heads nor tails of the vast array of things Duo had behind them he straightened up a bit. "Drinks, yes. You got something fruity and fizzy? On the light side for my mech over there."   
He turned around to point at Draft and caught a glimpse of Sticks walking in, arms intertwined with Forceps. His optics lit up, "Sticks, you bastard," he yelled across the room, laughing, good for you buddy.   
Bowline turned at Salvo's yell to see the two medics together. From her booth seat, she flashed a thumbs up and turned back to Bracer. "Small ones certainly do like being up high. I am sure we two will be decorated with them by the time this get-together is through. Though I am wary of partaking myself, unsure how high grade will sit with me." Here she gestured to her helm before leaning in, "You must know how we got here. What is your story?"  
Salvo nudged Burner and pointed at Sticks. She tore her optics away from Scalpel for a moment to first give him a nasty look, not wanting to be interrupted, then turned to spot Sticks. "Slag," she muttered, optics narrowed. She couldn't believe they'd gotten the first spike of the crew. Sticks! That pathetic moron! When here she was, brimming with sexual energy. Well she couldn't complain, by her metric she seemed next in line. She turned back to Scalpel with tempered fire in her optics, fueled by indignation at being shown up by her feckless friend. "Oh I assure you I can put on quite a show. Name a time and place babe," she crooned, tilting her helm up the slightest bit now this is how you do it.  
Salvo snorted from beside her and turned back to Duo, "Got distracted- anyway, you two seem capable, surprise me with something." Here he sat down in the barstool, crossing his arms against his chassis, ready to watch the two work.

 

Forceps looked vaguely surprised, but went with it, straightening their spine and lifting their sawlets slightly. .:Hm, no, I suppose this is the best possible platform for this sort of... announcement. Here, look around- the two behind the counter are split-spark twins, and some of the most tightly interwoven I've ever seen. Their systems work perfectly in time with each other, down to the sparkbeat, and their sparks begin to destabilize if separated for too long. Very unusual. And the mech in the corner, you'll have to meet him at some point- that's Avalon. The only living example of what is usually termed Adaptus' Curse. It's a genetic anomaly where the entire surface layer of the frame is run through with thousands of transformation seams and the struts are completely solid. His frame can't support his armor, and his T-cog is too occupied by manipulating his frame to take on an alt. He wears found armor to compensate. He's also quite ancient, he was around long before the war. It's a bit difficult to know exactly what he means most of the time, he has significant speech difficulties and can't write or COMM to make up for that, but evidently he knew Megatron somewhat briefly while he was still known as Megatronus. Unfortunately, he's limited to charades to communicate, and Milu -on his shoulder there- is the only one of us familiar enough with him to understand most of it:.  
Duo, evidently having something in mind, quickly whipped up an especially sparkly concoction and passed it down to Draft. At Salvo's request for himself, though, they paused and grinned hugely. Well. A surprise, they could do, and did. Optics bright and eager, they grabbed several bottles and mixed them, working in unison, servos moving one over the other. After a few moments, they passed Salvo... something that looked like nothing more than energon in a slightly frosted cube. They'd certainly added enough things for it to be something else, but it looked completely ordinary.   
Until the twins, with a quick flourish, dropped a marble-sized sphere into it. At that point, the cube billowed a brief plume of sparkly purple smoke, which, upon clearing, left the drink equally sparkly and purple. In addition to tossing glitter over that general area.  
Scalpel paused to aim a glare at the two for their distinctly un-sexy distraction, a glare which was met with a choroused laugh of "he said surprise him!", then sighed and focused on Burner again as she gestured at the two. "Best move somewhere a bit more private," she declared, scooping up the two cubes that Duo handed her in response, and stood up with full expectations of being followed. Disregarding anything else, she walked over to one of the corner booths, set the cubes down where Burner could reach one, and then pulled a curtain around the two of them as Burner sat down. "All right- lemme be blunt. I look at you, and you got 'bratty sub' written all over you. Not- not a bad thing, in this context, but it means I am gonna take you as a challenge. There is probably a good spanking in your future if we go with that," she declared, leaning in slightly, winglets up and almost businesslike. Time to put down the sexy for a moment to be sure nothing went awry. "If you don' like that general idea, you need to tell me, now, before we go any further. Because I..." a brief pause, leaning in to grip Burner's chin firmly in one servo and lock optics with the other femme, "I have some ideas for you."

Burner's bemused grin only widened, her optics glowing in response, "Challenge I will be."   
She leaned in slightly to grab the energon cube before leaning back in her seat, putting a pede up on the table, and downing the entire cube in one draught. Her shoulders tensed slightly as it went down, optics closed, winglets rising just a bit. After a moment, she eased out, delicately placing the empty cube on the table and flicking it away with the tips of her fingers. Her optics started to take on that inebriated tinge. She drew a finger across her chin, expression becoming mischievous, "I'll let you know I'll suck your soul out through your spike if you give me the chance."  
.:And they're different people? Two different minds?:. Sticks commed back to Forceps. They led the other medic towards the bar area, evidently intending to get a little drunk before attempting any more "good impressions." .:I hope you don't mind me making a beeline for the booze, I've been meaning to meet Avalon for a while but I need a few more social limiters off before I can justify asking the questions I really want to ask:. They spotted Blackspark on the way and gave them a friendly wave with their free servo, "How're ya feeling tonight Blackspark? Glad to see you here."  
Salvo, meanwhile, sat on his barstool staring at the drink. It wasn't something he'd seen before. Glitter dropped off his servo as he reached to grab the cube. Just before taking a sip, Draft's servo laid itself gently on his arm as the bigger mech sat down next to him, "Between the look on Scalpel's face, and the pure mischief aura I'm getting from these two I figured I'd get over here before you got too sloppy-drunk to bring my drink to me." His voice was low but tinged with affection.  
The two clinked cubes and took sips together. Draft nodded, "Tasty. What do you-" He looked to Salvo whose gaze was locked on the bar in front of him. His visor shifted colors, now a more blue-tinged lime green than usual.   
"This is definitely hallucinogenic," he said rather matter-of-factly for someone staring into space. A small string of glittery drool dripped from his slightly-agape mouth, "fizzy. Sweet. I'm seeing these colorful lights. I think if I move my arms are gonna come off so I'm just gonna sit right here."  
Draft glanced at the cube, his "sip" had drained almost half of it. He sighed and put his servo on Salvo's shoulder for moral support.(edited)

Bracer's optics flicked to the smoke for a moment, then returned to Bowline, and he leaned back in his seat. "Well, that's- not the shortest story. I'm- my alt is passenger-class, I can carry the little ones. Somewhere right around when it started being clear that the war wasn't going to just go away, some, uh... commander or another figured it'd be good to have some extra armor for the smaller leaders. Important people an' such. Which, if they'd asked, I'd've been glad to help with, but... no. Didn't ask. Just kinda... grabbed me. Retrofitted my alt with a control panel in the cockpit, and a button to override my movement impulses. Not, uh... not the most fun, y'know? Suddenly being controlled by someone and all when I would've probably done it anyway. That... kinda put me off being anything close to an Autobot once I got the chance to, uh, leave-slash-flee. But I saw a lot of people who were just... doing what they had to, or- or who were afraid that the longer the war went on, the worse things would be for everyone when it stopped, or who... genuinely did not realize what things were like for a lot of people. So I couldn't really... join the other side and start killing those people. I kinda just went with staying out of trouble as much as I could, tryin' to keep people alive sometimes. Eventually I ran into Crucible, and we found this ship. The prior owner had, uh, had an incident with some very aggressive and nonsapient organics. They were really afraid of fire, though, so Crucible got 'em cleared out really fast. You've met him, right? The, uh- his namesake embedded in his chassis."

"Hm, well, you might just get that chance," Scalpel murmured, seeming... less impressed than vaguely intrigued, clearly looking Burner up and down. "Alright. I'm intrigued. But- you are not drinking anything other than that, are we clear? I am not doing a scene with someone drunk, especially not someone I don't know. Haveta be able to clearly discuss lines. So... you tell me, right now, soft and hard boundaries. I'm not going to injure you, but I'm not planning to be gentle at first, and I am strong enough to lift you. Pain limits would be good to know. Also... you mind if I film this? Just for my partner. I have some tastes he doesn't much enjoy, hence this, but he likes to see what I'm up to. Won't show it to anyone other than him," she assured, and reached to take Burner's servo, lightly gripping her wrist to see what that point of contact would do. Looked like "bratty sub" was correct. Could be fun. 

.:Very similar, but different enough to distinguish if you talk to them for a little while. See those motions, the chirps? They're having... something like a conversation, trading thoughts and impulses over their bond. Perfectly in sync. Do be careful asking them for drinks, though... I think Salvo told them to surprise him. They aren't malicious, but they are prone to mischief:. Forceps commented, taking a seat at the bar a short distance from Salvo, and watched him for a moment to be sure he was fine. He looked fine. .:They won't give you anything you don't ask for. So... don't ask for that unless you want to hallucinate, and I don't advise talking to Avalon while hallucinating. He's odd enough already:.  
"Weren't supposed to drink" "that much" "at once!" Duo commented, switching flawlessly between speakers in something that probably wouldn't have even been noticed by anyone not looking at them, and leaned in to lightly boop Salvo's nasal ridge with a fingertip each before looking to Draft. "Is mild. Not dangerous, just flashy lights. Less strong if not drunk all at once," they declared, and gestured slightly to Draft's drink. "Not in there."   
Duo had enough sense not to outright drug someone without consent. This was... a bit less than a drug? It gave one a nice and relatively short period of watching flashing lights and occasional dim impressions of figures. Fun. Right? They had an antidote just in case it wasn't, but Salvo seemed fine for now. Even if he should have drunk it more slowly.   
Ah well. Turning their attention to Forceps and Sticks, Duo cocked their helms in unison, looking as friendly as they could with their toxic-green colors. "Drinks?"

"Doin' great, but my company's gone loopy," Blackspark cackled, and raised his own drink at Draft. "Oi. This chair's got room, get 'im over here," he called, shifting to the side in what was definitely a chair more than large enough for him, leaving enough room for Salvo to come get in. "Promise not ta get up ta anything," he called, and gestured lightly with one servo until Salvo was within reach. Muttering "c'mere," the bounty hunter coaxed Salvo down to sit next to him, grinning in blatant amusement and pulsing a friendly, amused field practically dripping with carrier-impulses. "You like what those two gave ya?"

 

"Let's get you away from this before it gets too much." Draft said, pushing the drink away, he'd guard it for once Salvo wasn't hallucinating anymore in case he wanted to go about it in a calmer manner. He held out a servo to Salvo who still seemed focused on the bar table. "There's a nice mech over there who wants to say hi, what do you say?" His tone was rather gentle.  
"Would love to but I think I'm frozen in place," Salvo replied, he was holding oddly still.  
"Right then," Draft said. He stood up and in one fluid movement flung Salvo over his shoulder. A few steps and he'd made it to Blackspark. Standing in front of the mech, he took a few kliks to size him up and determined he was not a threat -it'd be difficult for someone so heavily carrying to hurt Salvo, even like this. Salvo quietly cooed from behind him, "I'm up high now."  
It was a gesture of goodwill for Draft to deposit Salvo in the chair next to Blackspark. The whole social situation wasn't really his thing to begin with, but one must learn the presence of others if one was to move on. It was a further gesture of trust that kept him from his usual posturing threats. He vented deeply to release tension and tried a friendly expression at the mech sitting next to his boyfriend. It wasn't a smile per se, but it lacked his normal sternness.   
Salvo, meanwhile, melted in the chair, head lolling backwards, "Wow this is... a lot." He reached an arm back and slung it around to Blackspark's other shoulder, "Don't believe we've met, I'm Salvo." He was staring up into space as he said this but patted the bot's shoulder where he could reach.

Sticks ripped their optics from Salvo, determining that he at least was not completely incoherent. They turned instead to Duo, jumping onto a high barstool and leaning against the counter. "I don't believe we've met before, though I'll certainly see you two at some point in the future," Sticks looked at the twins for a moment and instinctively offered a servo only to hesitate halfway through, catching another glimpse of the new plating. No. Good impression.They extended it all the way, "The name's Sticks, I'm the new medic on duty." They flashed a wide smile, which Forceps could now tell was a rather practiced fake, not that most people could guess on first glance. "Could I get something as ostentatious as that but light on the high-grade?" they said, pointing to Salvo's glitter drink, "and ah no hallucinogens please."

Bowline stared unmoving at Bracer for a while. She reached a servo to put it gently on top of his, seemed the right thing to do. "That is unacceptable. I would have hoped people had more decency than that. I am glad you are here now." Bracer's story brought her back to her old platform. Evidently she would have to take up her movement again if they landed on Cybertron. She wondered just how far back things had fallen, would she be able to pick up the pieces, or must she start anew- from the ground up? For better or for worse, at least they couldn't take her face away again. She cocked her head, "I have not yet met Crucible, though I hope to tonight. What kind of person is he?"

Burner meanwhile, steepled her fingers, looking intently into Scalpel's optics. She hadn't thought this far ahead but the femme didn't need to know that. "Stern voice is good but yelling isn't sexy, not a fan. Knives must be smaller than my servo. Drawing a little bit of energon is okay but I'd prefer not to be covered in it." She looked away, for a moment letting down her persona, searching for other things, "Call me by my name. Slag's fine too I guess but nothing demeaning or derogatory."  
At Scalpel's touch she straightened up a bit, putting her sexy expression back on, grin creeping across her face "Never done it on film before. Permission fraggin granted. Now, anything you want me to worry about?"

Blackspark shrugged lightly to shift Salvo's arm around a bit, carefully lowering the spines on his back further. He had an impressive array of knife-like blades jutting up from his shoulders, but they shifted after a moment, the bases seeming to detach somehow, and either aligned themselves to block their own edges or slipped down into sheaths laid flat against his back. Had to- he was a member of a social species, after all. "Mech, why'd you chug that much of a mystery drink that'd just exploded?" he asked softly, chuckling, and slid a servo around Salvo's back to squeeze him. Nothing suggestive, and the friendliness in his field was light and without intent, but he was one for physical affection. Especially now, with his processor marinating in this level of hormones. "Blackspark. You jus' relax a bit, that's... probably yer processor goin' "oh what the Pit", it'll settle soon once yer frame starts figurin' out how this works. Deep vents. Lean on me all ya want, yer cute, jus' avoid my stomach. Bitlet kicks if ya lean on 'im," he explained, and looked up at Draft, offering an easy grin. "No more room in the chair. You wanna try out fittin' on the arm, maybe, or grab yer own? I'm not hurtin' anyone, just- lookit this! Can't not hug this mess," he laughed, glancing down at Salvo. "No offense. You looked coherent before you drank half that stuff in one go. Those two are chemists, you gotta be slow 'bout stuff that chemists give ya to drink. Or put in yerslef anywhere. Except dick, that's usually fine."

Forceps, behind Sticks' shoulder, gestured firmly to the twins and mouthed 'gentle!!' at them. They saw it, too, and obliged. Of a sort. Their servo-shake was one twin's servo in Sticks' and the other against the back, and, having captured their servo, the twins leaned down slightly more to-   
Well. To stare closely at the plating, lick one of his fingertips, and then nip at his arm plating just above the bandages. "Fresh! Nice," they declared, letting go, and pivoted back to the shelves behind them, one climbing up onto the other slightly to reach something on a higher shelf. Something that looked like a jar of glitter. Mostly because it was.   
The end result was an exceptionally glittery drink, brilliant purplish-pink, that fizzled and popped slightly and sent bits of glitter up slightly at every pop. Duo were about to give it to Sticks, but paused, helms tilted, frowning slightly, eyeing his servos. An idea seemed to come to them, and they both ducked under the counter, coming up with- well, an adult-sized version of a sippy cup, essentially, which they filled before giving to Sticks. "No-spill if dropped! Good for new servos. Good, sweet, tiny buzz. Only drugs on request, or" a pause and a grin, gesturing to Salvo in a gesture that clearly conveyed "how could we not?" to all involved.

"Eh, I'm all right," Bracer shrugged, and set his other servo on top of hers in response. "I mean, it really wasn't nice, but... none of that works any more. Control panel's still in, but it doesn't work, just too much trouble to get out. I like the horn I got. Can't show you indoors, though, too loud. I broke some stuff that no one needed, and I'm fine now. Anyway- Crucible? He's" a pause and a slight giggle "warm. I-I mean- literally. There's an actual forge in his chassis, dunno where he keeps his spark chamber. He can use it in root mode, or shift into this... it's basically his namesake on treads. Metaphorically warm, too. Really nice. You'll like him, just about everyone does. Does art sometimes, just... melts metal and then picks it up and shapes it. Glass, too. All singed up- got soot all over himself so often his nanites took it like paint. Gets real sad when he spooks people, some folks don't like forges and melting things any more. War an' all," he sighed, reaching up to scratch one of the nubby horns on his forehelm.  
"No knives, not my thing. Energon- nothin' but claw nicks. I don't do injury. Scuffs, yeah. Nothin' your self-repair can't handle in a day or so. As for degredation- nothin' strong, got that, but how 'bout dirty talk an' some dom stuff? Like-" a pause, and Scalpel leaned back just a fraction, not wanting to push. "-call you naughty, describe what I'm gonna do or what you look like in explicit details, that sorta thing? If that's fine, yeah, we're good. Me- don't actually fight, not in th' mood for that, though I might wanna play-scuffle a li'l bit. No startlin' me on purpose. I do not react well to pain, so no real bitin' or that sorta thing. An' if you wanna touch somewhere near my hips, slide your servos over or somethin' like that, no havin' your servos right in th' air an' suddenly puttin' 'em on things. Don't like that 'round my hips, elsewhere is fine. No yankin' on my winglets, an' do not do anythin' rough at my servos," Scalpel provided, then leaned in slightly further, locking optics with Burner, absolutely nothing cheerful about her demeanor. "If you don't like something, you tell me. We can slow it down, we can go at it another way, we can do somethin' else, or we can stop, dependin' on what you want. Stop means stop, no means no, if I feel you real-fightin' or lookin' upset I am gonna stop and ask. You do not do this confidence thing to cover up not likin' part of a scene. If you do, we stop immediately and I will dunk you in a cold shower. So..."   
Standing up, she leaned forward to brace her servos on the table, winglets up, her optics considerably more playful now as she watched Burner. "You gonna follow me like a good femme?"

"No but I'll follow you like a bad femme," trailed through the doorway as Burner and Scalpel went off to go frag- or whatever they were doing. Salvo let out a loud whoop. Whether the exclamation was out of drunkenness or regular character, it was impossible to say, what was certain was that every member of the Choir turned to look at him.   
"Mess is right," Draft said with an unimpressed frown. He reached down and flicked Salvo on the helm on his way to pull a chair from one of the tables, "Don't shout like that, slag, you're sitting next to a carrier."   
"A what?" Salvo finally brought his head up to look Draft in the optics, evidently resuming normal motor control. He snuggled down into Blackspark's side and turned to the other mech with a confused expression, "What are you carrying?"  
Draft flung his chair near to where the other two were sat before dropping himself down in it, head-in-servos, "Primus, you missed sex-ed didn't you."  
"Oh it's an interface thing? I didn't pay attention to any of that, wasn't interested," Salvo said, nonchalant.   
Sticks turned back to Forceps, laughing, "Someone get that mech to Patches. Yanno in hindsight it explains a lot." They almost forgot the weird sensation of being lick-tested again. This time with more sensory input. They supposed they couldn't complain, though, Duo seemed to care more than the average bot. They nodded in thanks and grabbed the cup with one servo. It started to shake immediately as they lifted it up, too tired from their typing. Knowing they had to act quickly, Sticks leaned over and took a sip just before it fell onto the counter. So it was a game now, was it.  
Bowline nodded. It was comforting to know the ship's owner seemed gentle enough, a great departure from the belligerent pilots of the war, "I am excited to eventually meet him, then." Something stuck with her, she wanted to let it pass, now was not the time, nor possibly the place, but she couldn't let it go, "Outside of this scenario I would have had a talk with you about downplaying your experiences. It does you a disservice. I will not push now, but know we have all seen enough pain to handle the truth."

"A- what?" Blackspark chuckled softly, then shook his helm, gently capturing Salvo's wrist. "Sorta. I don't exactly look like this onna regular basis, ya know, mech. I got sparked up- I'm carryin' a kid. Here, feel," he offered, and placed Salvo's palm against his stomach. A moment of nothing, then the sparkling kicked, a quick motion easily felt, and a wave of odd, simple, genuine emotion shimmered out into his field. A greeting, an invitation, excitement, an odd and distinct undernote. That was an entirely separate being, clearly. "Feel that? Sparklings learn emotions from their carrier, so this li'l one doesn' know much yet, but 'e knows how t' be friendly. Feelin' that I'm bein' friendly at ya, too. Think 'e likes you. Kid's about due... few days, maybe. Lotta squirmin' in there, gettin' used t' all the limbs. Take it you never met a sparkling?" he asked quietly, optics soft and almost hazy, quite happily snuggling against Salvo.  
.:They have straws,:. Forceps suggested, and set their servo under the cup, providing a bit of support for Sticks. No further comment, no look as though something was wrong, just that. A quiet offer of support for someone who needed it. .:They're an interesting pair. Watch how they move- that unison comes from more than practice, it comes from having full access to the other's intent. They almost function like a single being. But if you watch, slight differences- the one on the left now is Scissors, they're slightly more outgoing. The other is Syringe, just a fraction more mature. Exceptionally good sense of taste, they can use it to analyze chemical traces for composition. Hence the... licking everything. Best to go with whatever they do unless it makes you particularly uncomfortable, they are friendly and mean well but are somewhat... call it socially unaware:.  
Bracer watched her for a moment, then sighed and chuckled, scritching the horn slightly harder. "Okay. Yeah. That was basically the worst thing ever the first few days until I got more used to it. I'm just glad they put me under to rearrange everything. Prob'ly had to, I haven't met many sets of restraints that can hold me. I really am okay now, though. And this, yeah, this's a conversation for later, I think, if you wanna talk more. Or tell me about, uh" a quick gesture at her helm "your thing. I'll listen. For now, uh... what d'you wanna talk about instead?" he asked, and let go of his horn, leaning forward slightly instead. Friendly. Calm. No signs of a lie.

 

Salvo jerked his servo away at the feeling, his visor brightened a bit, somewhat distressed. "There's a... a THING inside you," he muttered, clearly not listening. At least he was quieter this time.  
Draft gave a withered look at Blackspark, "No he hasn't. I doubt he even knows what a sparkling is. MTO, you see, and an idiot." He snapped his fingers at Salvo, calling his name to get his attention, "Imagine... hmm. Imagine me, but I'm the size of... that mech" he pointed at Sharpshot, "and I know nothing and can't speak."  
Salvo craned his neck to get a view of the minibot, then looked back at Draft, then at Sharpshot, finally setting his optics back on Draft again. He was quiet for a bit, and then finally nodded, "Okay I think I get it..." his expression became devious, "so something like Sticks?"  
Draft ignored the comment, "sparklings grow into people, don't forget that, aft."  
Sticks turned around at the mention of their name. "You wanna say that again, sand-nuts?"  
Salvo merely grinned back from his cozy spot next to Blackspark.  
The medic turned back to Forceps, shaking their head but slightly smiling all the same. With a quick optic signal, they brought their cup up with Forceps's help and took a swig. The high grade began to kick in, a slight warm buzz. Carefully putting the cup on the counter again, they looked Forceps in the optics, "Thanks but I can't ask you to do that the whole time, babe." They turned to Duo, "You don't happen to have any tape back there do you?"  
Bowline was still. She nodded quietly at Bracer's offer, looking away. Another time, she may take him up on that offer. They seemed to have something in common. "Do you think the war is over?" she said at last, "Is this merely a respite? I am trying to catch up from my absence. It has been so long, I fear I have forgotten what a denouement feels like."

 

"Nah, here, lookit-" Blackspark muttered, pulling a data-pad from subspace, and flicked it on to show an assortment of sparkling-in-tank scans. "See? That's a baby. Like a new-forged mech but no way t' just put the knowledge in 'em. They gotta learn everythin' and grow. They stay inna carrier for awhile so's their tiny spark can stabilize an' such after conception, then" a flick to a video of several sparklings, all doing assorted sparkling things, mostly chewing on each other and squeaking "they come out like that. This is why you were forged wi' a shield t' stop full spark merges, standard MTO thing. 's removable if ya want, but- yeah. You swap spark energy wi' someone while yer fraggin', sometimes it makes a tiny li'l newspark," he explained, holding the 'pad where Salvo could easily watch the video. "Plus, ya frag people during th' carrying, you get their genetics in 'em. Come out a tiny bit like whoever that was. Me? I made nice wi' Soundwave. Bit's gonna come out with cables like him. Maybe some of those pretty li'l glow lines, too." 

Duo ducked under the counter, then popped up with a roll of bandages and a pair of big grins. One almost-cartoonish session of speedy wrapping later, and they'd secured Sticks' servo firmly to the cup, tied with a large and ornate (if slightly messy) bow. "There! No more dropping things. Too bad, though, cute," they cooed, and mock-patted Forceps on the helm. From several feet away, Forceps did not want to be actually patted and would probably bite them or something if they tried that.(edited)  
Forceps aimed a glare at them, then sighed and lightly patted Sticks' unoccupied servo. "We need to find some time for you to do some proper physical therapy. Does anything hurt?"

"Well, I don't know what that last word there means, but... yeah. I think it's over. Partly 'cos there's so few people now, there's more'n enough room for 'em," Bracer sighed, shifting to lean his forearms on the table, which creaked slightly but held. "Also, someone, an' nobody knows who but we all figure it's Soundwave, put out a sort of warning broadcast thing. Population numbers and multiple different predictions of what would happen if the war didn't stop. Basically all amounted to 'extinction, and soon', so that prob'ly helped. Mostly I think people are just... tired. Really tired. An' all the really violent people got shot or otherwise dead already. I don't... don't really think anyone wants to fight any more, at this point. An' I think even if anybody does, there's enough people who don't that we can kinda just... shoo away the ones who do. Tell 'em to go somewhere else."

Crucible showed up a short time later, paused at the doorway to lower the light level a fraction, looked around the room, then headed over to sit next to Bracer at a friendly wave from the big mech. Crucible was a similar build to Bracer, smooth and round, with thick plating and no immediately distinct alt mode aside from the treads hanging down his back. Well, them and the manipulator arms, somewhat resembling backhoe arms with a few extra joints, wrapped around his waist with the grasping claws hung at his hips. His entire chassis was visibly a door of some sort, interestingly. His plating was a dull red around his sides and his back, but most of his front was a sooty grey-black in fading patterns radiating outwards from his chassis. It could have been mistaken for actual soot if it hadn't been slightly glossy. Bright ember-orange optics gleamed as he looked up at Bowline, and as he shifted to get comfortable, his armor flared briefly and showed a hint of lava-bright biolights hidden under the edges. He almost resembled some sort of elemental being, and his field was deep and intense to match his namesake. It could almost have been alarming if he hadn't been offering Bowline a friendly smile and a slightly reserved EM field. "Good evening!"   
"Kinda obvious, what with the" Bracer paused, snorted in amusement, and gestured at Crucible's entire frame "everything, but this's Crucible."

Salvo watched intently, putting a servo to his chassis at the mention of the contraceptive spark shield, "huh, I had no idea. Lil buggers are kinda cute now I see em. Hey Draft, you think Burner knows about this?"  
Draft had leaned over to look at the datapad, more curious than he'd like to let on, "I sure hope so, for her sake. Though... she's probably safe." He huffed, "I'm still -I'm sorry- I'm still caught up on... you fragged Soundwave? How'd you manage to pull that off? I don't know a single mech who could get close to him -except evidently..."   
Salvo could see Draft's cube was half empty by now, the high grade making him more chatty. Who knows, he might even get to hear the mech laugh for the first time in Primus-knows-when. Salvo put on a genuine smile and laid a gentle servo on Draft's forearm. Draft looked down into Salvo's warm face.   
"What's that expression for," Draft grimaced, "oh don't tell me- the answer is no. Nope. We're not gonna try to make a sparkling."  
Salvo playfully frowned, "No! Course not, slag. Aren't I allowed to get sentimental?"  
"You're always sentimental, fool!" Draft said, a slight smile creeping onto his face, "of course you're allowed."  
"Thank you kindly," Sticks said to Duo as they took their servos away from Sticks's. They tested out their improved appendage, turning it side to side. No need to really hold on anymore. Excellent. "Well my wrist feels like it could get close to hurting but I figure if I stop doing this," they righted their servo and set it on the counter, "It'll be fine. Fingers aren't feeling great but that's to be expected, haven't typed in a while, takes more effort than I remember. I'll keep you informed if it gets urgent."  
Deftly they flipped their servo over to capture Forceps's. They gave it a gentle squeeze, .:Avalon looks so lonely over there I'm gonna go say hi. Come if you want:. They stood up and turned to walk to the booth where Avalon sat, only to be distracted by Crucible's imposing frame moving to go sit with Bowline. It could only have been Crucible. They'd gotten a sense of him from others's stories. Sticks smiled, they'd been meaning to meet him too. They stopped in front of Avalon's booth and spoke gently, "Would you mind if I joined you?"

Bowline nodded to the newcomer, "Your reputation precedes you, Crucible. I was hoping I would get to speak with you tonight." She turned back to Bracer, "We received no such communiqué, but it does not matter anymore. I want to believe it worked. It is about time Cybertronians knew peace." She stole a glance over to Draft, seeing his fleeting smile at Salvo, "However, I am dubious that everyone has agreed to lay down arms. The most belligerent are often the hardest to kill and will not change their ways." She looked Bracer straight in the optic, her own shining bright and steady, "What of the Decepticon Justice Division. I refuse to believe they simply gave up."

"Have ya met Scalpel? She ain't gonna let a near-stranger anywhere near her spark," Blackspark chuckled, and grinned up at Draft from his spot in the chair. "Awh, oughta think 'bout it! I mean, for awhile, while neither of ya is high or drunk or such, but, yeah. And, Soundwave... heh. We get along pretty well. I did some jobs fer him, stuff he needed done but didn' have the time to do himself, an' I guess he decided he likes me. I promised not to say too much about him, but, ohh dear Primus that mech is gorgeous," he purred, optics dimming slightly in remembrance. "Ain't everyone's taste, I know, but those lights, an' he relaxes real nice if ya pet him just right. Mech doesn't weigh much, but those thighs, lemme tell ya, he is strong. And I think he liked the idea of the whole contributing-genetics thing."  
.:Not sure Avalon is capable of being all that lonely:. Forceps huffed, but followed, partly to see if they could get a better look at certain things. Avalon was, understandably from what Forceps had learned, rather wary of medics. .:Very strange mech. Fair warning, he likes to hold especially small bots, and does forget to ask sometimes. He won't hurt you, but he can be somewhat abrupt:.   
Avalon cocked his helm slightly at Sticks, then purred, a deep, low, rumbling sound from somewhere in his chassis, lowered his entire frame, and held out one servo near Sticks. Not to shake, though, palm-up like he was asking to be handed something. Essentially, he was- Sticks was just small enough to sit with their aft in his servo.   
"Oh, hello- uh, yeah, he- he wants you to come sit on him somewhere, I think, he likes that," Milu provided from where he was sitting on Avalon's shoulder, atop a smooth rise of metal that had probably been a car-alt's hood at some point before it had been bent into shape. "I'm Milu, this is Avalon. He really likes small bots. Not- not a fetish! Just... something about beings with, uh, very light weights who don't run away from him, I think. If you don't mind, d'you, uh... you wanna come sit somewhere on him? He's got room."

"Eesh. Yeah, I don't know what they're up to," Crucible winced, and shook his helm slightly. "Sadists. Sadists under a cause, but.. you don't do that to people without enjoying it, regardless of your personal beliefs. If we ever get anywhere near them, we are gonna just... run. We have a decent number of Deceptions and former 'Cons on board, we need to... not get near them. Though- one mech on board, little mech by the name of Tempo, has this really interesting ability that makes him completely immune to things like Tarn's Voice. His systems just... keep working like normal, no matter what you do to him, for anything less than removing a significant chunk of him. But, seriously, plan if we ever hear they're anywhere nearby is to go in the opposite direction as fast as possible. We have some good weapons, on the ship's surface and on board, but... best to not use those. Hopefully they'll just... hit an asteroid somewhere and explode," he declared, not at all sounding like that would be a tragedy, then sighed quietly and looked up at Bowline.  
"On a mostly unrelated but similarly less-than-cheerful topic... we have a list on board of, uh, things not to do. You've seen it already, probably- phrases to just not use, things that you should avoid doing in public because there's someone on board who they really upset. You have anything like that? We keep it anonymous most of the time. Kind of a... generalized trigger prevention thing. Speaking of, we do have a section of the ship that excludes bots your size. For smaller bots with phobias, y'know? Also a section excluding the especially small bots, for big bots with phobias. I'm told it's also good for, like, big bots who want to play rough without having to worry about if someone small and fragile is nearby. It's totally optional, just... if you feel like not being somewhere with people significantly smaller than you, there's a spot for that. No judgement, no questions. The only exceptions are the medics in emergency situations, they can go everywhere."

Salvo gave Blackspark an enthusiastic pat on the back, "Now that sounds like a good night, my friend. Congratulations." His voice was sincere, tinted at the edges by laughter, "-and, I guess, congrats on the kid? I can't wait to see one of these guys up close."  
"Probably will be about as close as we get to one. Too much interfacing to get from A to B," Draft said, taking a sip of his drink and shaking his head.  
"Never really got the point of interfacing. Tried it a couple times but meh," Salvo shrugged, "doesn't do it for me. Alas, sparklings are not in the stars for us -though I'd be happy to teach your kid everything I know. Say, Draft, you happen to pick up the rest of my drink?"  
Draft narrowed his optics, "are you ready to be good about it?"  
"Well I don't plan on moving any time soon, what's the big deal?" Salvo said, "Anyway I'll be good. Wanna get a good taste this time."  
Draft picked up the drink from where he'd stashed it on the nearest table, as he brought it over, a quiet puff of glittery vapor trailed behind it, "Knock yourself out-but don't."  
Sticks smiled, "Nice to meet you Milu, and you Avalon." Here Sticks lowered their head a bit in a casual bow. There was something about the mech that seemed almost magical. Perhaps it was his age, or his mysterious look, or his massive stature but something inspired a healthy measure of respect within Sticks. "I am Sticks, the new medic on board," They said, standing back up to full height. In their slightly-buzzed state it took some self restraint not to show off in front of Forceps. They'd been practicing their agility in the off hours with their now-healed hip and were confident they could scale most mechs. Figuring Avalon wasn't the type to be impressed by acrobatics (and a good impression was key) they instead stepped over to stand in his waiting servo, "You remind me of my friend, Bowline. She's about your height. She lets me sit on her shoulders every so often so I'm no stranger to being lifted."  
.:Anything to avoid?:. they commed to Forceps without looking back.

"That is more care than I believe most bots expect. You run a good ship, Crucible," Bowline said, "I wonder if there are those here who could do with community help meetings. Perhaps some sort of recurring seminar on self actualization outside of Functionism." Her time fighting for her life was over, now it was time to get back to what she knew. She had much more to say, much more to teach, now, and there were certainly those who could use her help.

"I think technically ya just gotta frag 'n overload once. If it's just 'meh' an' not actually bad for ya, hey, that's possible. Or ask th' medics, maybe they know a way you can avoid th' fraggin' part," Blackspark shrugged, then grinned, gathering Salvo up in a firm hug. "I gotcha, I'll make sure ya don't float off. Might haveta try that myself once th' kid's out an' I can be somewhat irresponsible again. Now, drink that stuff slow, m'kay? I had some fun wi' assorted... substances when I was younger an' real stupid. You gotta go slow with stuff like this. Long, slow sips, let th' levels build slowly, let yer processor get more used't it. Yeah?" he purred, tucking his helm comfortably against Salvo's neck. He had a bit of an odd softness around him, still, almost a floatiness, riding high on hormones. There was a good reason for that, really- the sensation of one's sparkling squirming strongly in one's belly to get used to its frame was strange and potentially alarming, so, as the sparkling began to integrate spark and frame properly, the carrier's systems were flooded with endorphines to keep them relaxed and happy. And very snuggly.  
.  
Avalon gave a soft, deep, thoroughly delighted murring noise and slowly lifted Sticks, then reached up with his other servo and pulled something aside just below Milu. A door of sorts, into a small cavity slung behind his shoulder, like a backpack. It looked almost like a reading nook made of scavenged armor, the inside lined with soft padding and just large enough for one or two little bots, a small light fastened to the wall next to a few pockets full of various objects.   
"That's where I've been living," Milu explained from just next to the door, leaning over to wrap around Avalon's helm and scavenged helmet now. "Out of dangerous situations, y'know? You're welcome in, if you want. Here, look, you- you can see the- well, look at him. You can see how he does that."   
Milu peeled back a patch of the padding, revealing what must have been the back of Avalon's shoulder. Part of it was standard mechanisms, remarkable only in being somewhat exposed, and part was... something odder. Almost like very, very simple grasping arms or greatly oversized armor latches, mobile and flexing. There were a set of them, rippling evenly at being exposed to the air, with a few at the edges grasping into the undersides of armor plates. Those were, evidently, what anchored his found armor into place.   
.:Let him know if you're going to touch, don't reach anywhere that isn't offered. By and large not an easy mech to upset:. Forceps noted, sliding into the bench near Avalon just to keep an optic on things, mostly looking up at tiny delicate Milu. .:An interesting pair, these two. Milu is essentially a living weather vane, Avalon is a miner who is considerably older than anyone on this ship and the ship itself. He has a better understanding of the inner workings of Cybertron than just about anyone else, also, he hid from the war in the depths of old mines and then went even deeper. Evidently there's a lot to see:.  
.  
Crucible just about beamed at the praise, albeit quietly, and cocked his helm slightly in thought. "Truthfully, I'm kinda just guessing at what 'actualization' means from context and the components, but- probably. We have, uh... Longrange, you'll meet them at some point, probably. Telescope-alt, specifically lab-made as...look, the best word for it is 'pet' for nobles. They keep-slash-kept trying to find a new 'Lord'. They have a friend who's protecting them and convincing them that they don't need anyone to do that sort of thing- that's him over there, Sharpshot, the sniper-alt. They probably need some advice on what to do now, aside from taking orders. Sharpshot tends to get, uh, a bit too angry to offer good advice. Relatively similar background for him, a sniper rifle, and you know how people treat tool-alts. He went the other way, though, the 'nobody can touch me again' route. He's fine. Longrange needs advice," Crucible sighed, leaning back, and offered Bowline an odd look that was vaguely sympathetic and a bit more warning.  
"They're, uh. They're going to react badly to you. Their only experiences with Decepticons, empuratees, and a lot of other things have been in the sorts of propaganda that one sees while associating with nobles. Still learning that empuratees are very unlikely to be dangerous. They haven't really had things like independent thinking encouraged. Just... be gentle with them, they'll- they'll warm up. Also, you're, frankly, a bit scary-looking, at least for someone Sharpshot's size who's used to noble-builds. Pit, Bracer spooked them at first, and- look at him!"   
Bracer huffed quietly in something like amusement, and offered Bowline a wry look. "Yeah. They're nice, they're trying, they- they aren't a bigot, they just... don't know any better. They're learnin'. Just don't give 'em orders or Sharpshot will try to fight you. And I-I mean, he will literally try to fight you, he is very determined to protect them. He's also got a crush he won't admit to."

Salvo smiled and turned his helm slightly to send a reassuring glance at Draft. Cuddling of this nature with someone he'd just met was a new experience. He could sense Draft's unease, probably even before he realized. They could read each other remarkably well, able to communicate "we'll do this later" with a simple head tilt. Salvo brought his cube up to his face and stuck his pinky out as he took a sip. To Draft's relief it didn't come away empty.  
"Why do you look so surprised?" Salvo said, tipping the glass slightly in Draft's direction, "I'm not an idiot all the time you know."  
Draft huffed, "I guess we'll have a discussion about kids... later. For now..." he shifted back in his seat and drained the rest of his drink, "What do people do for fun on this ship? Could use a hobby."  
"Huh," Sticks climbed over and squatted near the makeshift room, "Never heard of someone living on another bot before. Is it comfortable? What if he decides to move?" Forceps could see Sticks had that wide-opticed look of genuine wonder on their face. They took a swig from their cup and deftly pulled themself back up onto Avalon's shoulder-area to sit down next to Milu. There they sat for a bit admiring the birds-eye view of the tavern. They leaned over to pat Avalon on an armor piece that looked like it would make a suitable amount of noise, just loud enough to let him know what they were doing. Then they turned to Milu and held out a friendly servo, no hesitation this time. It was official good impression time, they figured. .:An odd pair for sure, a watcher of earth and a watcher of sky:.

"Self-actualization is the expression of the self unhindered by pressures from others or outside stimuli. It is the the act of simply being which unlocks the freest thoughts and dreams. In other words, it is to be one's true self, the self one wants to be and can become. It is a tenet which I stand by, a tenet which I have sacrificed for," Bowline pointed at her helm, and was silent for a few kliks.  
"I admire the feisty one's dedication. I do not blame him. To fight back is often the only option," She paused to lean back in the booth, "I would not push Longrange into something they would find too much. I would only talk to them if they felt so inclined. They seem the delicate type, I have known those, they do not phase me."


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, by the way," Blackspark muttered from next to Salvo's shoulder, "I'm all up on hormones. Bit's movin' a lot t' learn how t' move, an' th' hormones're goin' so's I don't mind. All... floaty. Cuddly. Gonn' snuggle everyone. I'd offer t' letcha sit in m' lap, but, again, bitlet. Not much room. D'you- d'you wann' try anyway?" he asked, blinking up at Draft, offering a quiet, soft smile. "Might be jus' 'bout enough room. An', uh- people got different things they like. Crucible's got art 'n metalworkin' stuff, lotsa stuff on th' ship still needs restorin'. An' we touch down on organic planets real often, look around on th' ones wi'out people, tha's fun. Collect somethin', build somethin', go through th' 'pads of info we keep collectin'. What kinda stuff d'you wanna do? Dunno what y' like," he shrugged, then grinned and turned to Salvo. "Y' seein' stuff again?"    
.

"It works just fine if he moves. The padding keeps me out of all his mechanisms, and he's careful not to move his shoulder back too much," Milu explained, replacing said padding, and gently took Sticks' servo. "Yeah, it's definitely comfortable. He's... he's really sweet, that- that was his idea. I'm fragile. He thought I'd do better hidden from, uh... Insecticons, large turbo-foxes, hungry rats, basically all of wild Cybertron. Plus- storage! Datapads an' things we find that he likes. And, I-I mean- look at us! People have mistaken me for his symbiote before. Compared to him, I weigh  _ nothing _ .

Avalon gave a long, slow  _ mrrrrr _ noise, swaying slightly in place, and brought a servo up to pet his entire flank at once. Turning his helm to the side, he watched Sticks from up close for a few moments, then growled quietly, cocked his helm, and very lightly touched the spot above one of Sticks' bandaged wrists with one massive claw. His servos were covered in armor gauntlets made of scavenged metal, meaning that two armor-clad fingers together were thicker than Sticks' entire forearm, but his touch was careful and gentle despite that. Nor were the claws terribly sharp. More than anything else, they resembled mole paws, meant to dig and carve rather than anything else.    
.

"Sounds pretty good to me. Longrange is... a bit timid, but they're curious, and have minimal experience with danger. If you introduce yourself from a reasonable distance, it won't take them long to get curious and come closer," Crucible advised, then leaned slightly closer and set a servo on Bowline's servo. "You are very kind. We're going to get along well. Tell me- have you done any sort of metalworking before? You look like a strong one, and I have a working smithy set up, plus my own personal forge. I have some projects in the works, mostly useful things, but I also have some pretty metals that I like to use for sculpture and artwork. Some nice glass from a silica desert we passed awhile back, too. I can show you the basics of metalworking."

 

Draft put a conciliatory servo up at Blackspark's suggestion, "It's an odd thing, really. I don't  _ know _ what I want to do. Used to prize-fight in my spare time but... I've had enough of that. These servos aren't good enough for much else, though." Draft looked down at a servo for a bit, the outer plates were curved inwards, specially forged with ridges to create multiple, devastating points of impact, with small pins to draw energon. He curled his fingers into a loose fist, the armor sliding together slightly, creating the beginnings of a solid surface that would be fully locked together when clenched. "I need another drink," Draft muttered solemnly, getting up to ask Duo for a refill.   
Salvo snuggled in a bit closer, a grin spreading across his face, "Here they come, little sparkles. Excellent. Yanno I wonder... you think people could use some entertainment? I've always wanted to start a band."   
  
Sticks smiled and held their free servo close enough for Avalon to get a good look, "they're new! Aren't they fantastic? Don't quite have my strength back with them yet hence," here Sticks gestured with the cup tied to their other servo. Their field radiated a fierce pride of their new parts. It was not a 'look at my servos' pride, but rather a 'look at what my friends did for me, aren't they great.' Sticks paused for a split-klik, the cup having caught their optic, and decided to take another sip. They turned to show Milu their new servos, in case he wanted to see, "you two are quite a pair, you know. How'd you meet?"   
.

Bowline's optic glowed warmly, as if she was smiling, "I may take you up on that offer. Right now I am attempting to catch up on the literature I missed while away from Cybertron, though I do not see the harm in the occasional break for a smithing lesson. I am not the most creative bot though I will help when I can."   
She straightened up as she noticed Draft walking up to the bar. She thought for a klik. "Draft come here, " she called, her voice was considerably lower and a slight bit louder in order to pierce through the noise of the get together. Draft looked back at her, stole a glance back at Salvo, and walked over to the table, shaking his head, "Bowline?"   
"Truth be told, Draft is stronger than I am, and much more creative, too. He could make some wonderful things, I am sure." Bowline said to Crucible as Draft walked over.   
"What do you mean?" Draft asked, he looked from Crucible to Bracer, taking in the new faces.

 

Duo happily provided a refill, with an additional sprinkle of something to add a tangy undernote, then went back to- well, they were originally mixing drinks in several sealed containers, but that turned into juggling, back and forth between the two of them. as perfectly in unison as if they'd been one even stranger mech with eight arms.    
.   
Blackspark strongly considered stealing a sip of Salvo's drink, but decided against it, not sure if the unknown substance was safe for sparklings or whether Duo would be able to give that information. Probably a tiny sip wouldn't hurt, but... best not to find out. Salvo's field did nice things in response, though. "Mm. Sure. Bet so. What'cha play? We might have one somewhere. Or make one. We got, like... four medics an' a baby medic, Crucible, we got me, we got some other folks good at buildin' stuff, an' we got a lot of assorted scrap material. We...  _ met _ some unpleasant piratey folks, an' now we got their stuff. Which I guess makes  _ us _ pirates, but, hey, ya try an' take someone's ship, ya lose yer stuff sometimes, so. Eh. Me, I always liked th' string stuff, but, y'know, claws."    
.

Avalon  _ brrrprrr _ ed and lightly touched Sticks' palm, then slumped against the wall behind him, relaxing, and turned his optics to the rest of the room. He was here to watch people. Especially the new people.    
"Avalon, uh," Milu winced slightly, sighing, and reached down to slide a servo under Avalon's mask and pet his jawline. "well, I was holed up in a building with a bunch of... mostly nobles. Some raiders got in and kinda scattered a lot of people 'fore the guards got them out. I got scattered, and... well. Look at me. I'm a  _ weathervane _ ."    
Leaning forward slightly, Milu lifted and fluttered the small, round winglets on his back, the edges lined with small raised points. Said points slowly telescoped out into a series of antennae, a good dozen per winglet, the longest of them almost as long as his arm, shimmering golden in the dim light as they flicked. "My job was to sit on a roof, looking decorative, and tell people about acid storms so's they didn't ruin their paint. I guess I... wasn't useful enough for them to want to find me, and a couple raiders chased me far enough before they lost track of me that I couldn't find my way back. Avalon... well, Avalon scared the Pit out of me because he decided to pick me up while I was trying to sleep, but he managed to tell me that he was trying to help. We... did find the building again, but I guess they... had to leave for something. I'm pretty sure they left, at least, there weren't any bodies. Avalon was sure a lot nicer'n them, so I... decided he was my best option. Turns out he was. He's- I know he doesn't really look it, but he's a sweetspark."   
.

Crucible moved over to give Draft some room, ended up pressed comfortably to Bracer's side, and didn't respond other than an absent-minded pat when Bracer put an arm around him. He'd been a construction-mech for awhile, and those in construction tended to be very physical with each other, partly due to light gestures not registering so well through thick plating. Tank-alts like Bracer were often the same, hence the casual contact. Crucible leaned comfortably against Bracer's side, offering Draft a friendly smile and field-pulse, and gestured slightly for him to come sit with them. "I'm Crucible, this's Bracer. I'm the ship's captain, and I have a fairly large room fitted to be a smithy. Metal, mostly, some glass. I'm... a bit of an artist, and I do art classes sometimes, if you're interested. Mostly sort of abstract, I don't quite have the dexterity for realism. Would you have any interest in metalworking? For practical purposes or just for art. No starting skill required. You certainly look strong enough. Do you handle ambient heat all right, and do you have any unusually strong objections to things like fire, molten metal, and hammers?"

 

Salvo smiled, "Voice, my mech. My squad's heard me sing but probably have gotten damn tired by now, could use some new audials. Actually, everyone in the Choir has a tie to music somehow, it's how we got the name. Spade does percussion, tho I'd think they'd be pretty good with a synthesizer. Sticks... right they did a bunch of archival work with music, though I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind singing too. Burner... well... says she plays guitar but I'm dubious. Draft... he was a late-comer you see... I don't think he's negative on music. And Bowline, well she's smart, we all figured she'd play something." he shrugged, "Though everyone's doing their own thing now, I don't think I could rope any of em in, gotta start fresh. You think you'd want to join in if I organized some practices?"   
.   
Sticks reached their servo to gently pat Milu's shoulder, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that was such a loaded question. I guess drunk brain's ruder than I'd like." They grimaced and looked away, Bowline would know what to say, she always did. She had a way of putting things that seemed to address wrongdoings as she apologized. What would she say... "Well, I'm glad to have met you here. You're worthy of a safe place and proper treatment and it seems you're in good company at last," Not as elegant as she'd put it but close enough, "Avalon seems to be covered in stories, I can only hope some of them are happy ones."   
.

Draft nodded knowingly, getting a good look as he sat down next to Crucible and Bracer, "I've... never really thought about metalworking." He looked to Bowline, his expression confused but tinted with a bit of relief, "But... I suppose I could try it. I've definitely got the strength to handle heavy things. I think I'd like to feel useful again. Bowline were you- were you eavesdropping?"    
"Call it intuition," She replied, her optic giving nothing away. She knew a great deal about every member of the choir, more sometimes than they even knew themselves. She knew Draft was feeling lost without something to keep him occupied and was liable to become increasingly irritated at the lack of stimulus. Salvo knew what to do with his idle time, while she doubted Draft ever quite learned. What was a little nudge in the right direction where she could?   
Draft smiled slightly at her comment and turned to Crucible, "I'd like to get good at it, actually, when do you start your classes?"   
Bowline, seeing that Draft and her tablemates were occupied, began to address another issue.  _.:Good evening Forceps, I would like to talk to you face-to-face:. _ she commed to Forceps, she knew they were here, her posture did not change in the slightest, not a single tell,  _.:You got away from me last time, which was understandable given both our situations but now my comms are fixed and you are back to normal. It is not urgent but it is important to know and I don't think Sticks will tell you on their own:. _

 

"I get the feelin' I'm gonna be real busy real soon," Blackspark muttered, lightly patting his stomach. "No promises. I can carry a tune pretty well, though, an' attempt playin' a lot of things. You ever see those guitars with the laser-strings? I wana try one o' those out. For now, heh- feel what I got goin' on," he declared, and trapped Salvo's palm gently against his stomach, against the stirring and little motions of the sparkling.  "Feel? Kid's learnin' how to move, gettin' that spark all synced up wi' things. Gonna be able t' crawl an' cling on birth. Real frisky kid."    
.   
"It's- it's fine now, mostly, and you- you did ask," Milu shrugged, then retracted his antennae and slid down into his little room, tucking himself comfortably in the cradle of the padding. "C'mon in! It's nice, and there's room, we're both pretty small. Avalon can hold us both no problem. Also, uh- being a weathervane is a pretty good job! It's sort of boring sometimes and kinda lonely 'till you make friends, but it's easy and you get to watch everyone doing things without anyone noticing. I saw lots of really good gossip material," he giggled, optics sparkling in quiet mischief. "All us weathervanes had a COMM channel for things we saw, like people in relationships doing things with people who were not in those relationships."    
.

"They're thoroughly informal. If I get any interest, Pit, I could start one tomorrow. Just a one-time class, the basics, to see if you're interested. Could do one-on-one if you want. I assume you're okay with fire?" Crucible asked, then leaned back slightly and opened the doors in his chassis, revealing a reasonably large open space. "I have a large forge, or this one. Decent ventilation in the whole room, so it gets fairly hot but not too bad for other people. Just remind me to turn the ventilation _on_ , it never gets hot enough in there for me to mind. This is my inner forge, see? Can't kick it on in here, everybody'd get too hot and I don't want to worry anyone, but I can melt metals in here. Tell me, what would you be more interested in? Purely artistic work, or practical uses? The type of metal to use depends on what it's being used for. I have everything from gold, which you can practically mold with your bare servos, to durasteel that can stop bullets. And some glass, that's always nice. Fragile, but you can make some very pretty things out of it."   
.  
Forceps paused for a moment, then made a sort of quick "going that way" gesture up at Sticks before walking over to Bowline. _.:I don't recall attempting to 'get away' at any point. If I did, it was unintentional. Now- I am here. I am listening. What do you want to tell me? If it's about the self-esteem and guilt issues, I already noticed. Was that caused by any event in particular, or just a collection of situations?:._   
They weren't sure what it was that Bowline wanted to talk about, but this was a public place, so it wasn't likely to be a dangerous situation. So, it was all right that they weren't sure. They could wait and find out.

 

"I still don't understand how you can put up with that," Salvo muttered, shuddering at the feeling, "reminds me of-" he cut himself off to take a long sip from his drink. "Need to be less sober to think about it. There were these horrible... burrowing insects on the sand planet, fed on energon for primus-knows-what reason. Weren't quite as quick as scraplets but they were big enough so you could-" he paused, "That's probably not what you'd wanna think about huh. Anyway my offer still stands, I can teach you what I know if ya want."   
Salvo sat for a bit, stewing, thinking, letting his processor take in the drink, his hand still on Blackspark's belly. What was a gesture sustained at first out of politeness, turned into a sentimental kind of experience. Even if he still didn't quite understand the concept of sparklings, there was something that hit him in the prospect of a brand new being, innocent, unmarred by the war. "You think he knows I'm here?" Salvo said, voice lowered in a kind of tender respect.   
.   
Sticks glanced back at Forceps for just long enough to see them get up to leave. They nodded to themself and then followed Milu into the room on Avalon's back. "Nothing quite like spying huh. Way back when I worked in the archives, I used to do that too- well as much as I could. Worked with a lot of noble clientele. You can definitely put things together by the kinds of things someone is taking out. It was always interesting when they asked to see something outside of the public catalogues..." They sat down inside on the nearest surface and took a sip from their cup, "Working with public records was interesting, you'd get police coming in mostly, but then there were politicians, students, and the odd bot everyone'd swear must've been a serial killer."   
.

 

Bowline, catching Forceps approaching at her periphery, stood up, "I will be a moment, friends."   
Draft watched her edge out of the booth and meet the small, quiet medic. He wondered what they were doing, but answered his own question immediately. Bowline was more protective of Sticks than they realized. They all were but Bowline had it the worst. Poor Forceps, probably on their way to a train of "talking-to"s after tonight. Draft turned back to Crucible, "I can handle heat, I was stuck in a desert for eons. Ship's almost too cold for me." he paused, a bit of a wry smile creeping on his face, "I think... I think I'd like to make armor. People could need it. Don't know what kind of skill that requires but I can't imagine these servos are incapable of doing something like that. Though, knowing me they might  _ look _ like art for a while." He chucked a bit, the booze finally taking down his stern front.   
.   
_.:Those I suspect were the result of them running a fool's errand for so long. Though by my guess they had their roots even before they left Cybertron:. _ Bowline turned to look down at Forceps, she inclined her helm to a curtained booth that would accommodate the both of them and began to walk there,  _.:No. This is about their past. Once I explain, perhaps you will understand why the Choir is so wary about your relationship:. _ She pulled the curtain back to enter and held it open so Forceps could get in as well, once they were both properly settled, she leaned her forearms on the table and spoke, "Has Sticks mentioned the name Aphelion to you?"

 

"Prob'ly be way more bothered now if not for all th' nice hormones," Blackspark muttered, then sighed, optics dimming slightly. "Also... 's alive. There's a li'l spark fastened onto mine. Doin' soft li'l sweet emotions at me. Hard t' mind. Even if it does kinda smart when they flip 'round an' kick at my fuel tank. Can't feel th' spark as much any more, though... settlin' down in that frame, not so much attached t' me any more. But, yeah- knows yer here. Absolutely knows. Jus... wait a klik. Feel."    
The sparkling went still after a moment, then shifted slightly and stayed like that, even pressure towards Salvo's servo. Sparklings were highly mobile and somewhat aware of their carrier's responses to things, especially when it involved people. After another moment, that friendly greeting-undernote in Blackspark's field shifted and stretched, almost separating itself from his field by difference of vibrations, thrumming  _ invitation/greeting/hello! _ out at Salvo.    
"Ya feel? Kid likes ya. Feels my responses t' stuff. Can hear stuff, too, kinda. Gets spooked by horns beepin'."    
.

Avalon's makeshift backpack would have made for an excellent reading nook in a library somewhere. The whole inside surface was padded, shaped to give a basic chair-shape and a lounge area so that Milu could either sit or curl up to sleep, and there was enough room for him to fully stretch. "I'm not a huge fan of doing it, I like to ride on Avalon's shoulder somewhere, but I can stay in here for a few days without really having to come out. It's safe and really well protected. Plus, if I sleep in here, nothing can come up and bite me! Downside is I can't really see out with the lid shut."    
The whole little compartment shifted as Avalon settled, and a soft purr-growl thrummed through it, then Avalon went completely still. No response whatsoever from Milu, who acted as if everything was the same. "Public records, huh? Anything in particular? I keep wanting to read more about miners, I wasn't... well. Nobody bothers to educate weathervanes. I don't know much about what miners did aside from what Avalon can tell me, and he can't talk, COMM, or really write, so that's not much."    
.

"The medics have replacement plating covered, but if you mean stuff to wear sometimes for extra protection, well- never had much call for that," Cruible chuckled, patting his heavily armored shoulder, and offered Draft an appraising-slash-approving look. "We could absolutely do that, though. First you'd have to learn how to make flat pieces, so that's a li'l bit tricky, but it'll work. Probably start off with some softer metals to learn the basics before going into full production. Anyone in particular you have in mind for protection? I can tell you right now it's hard to get medics to wear anything that slows them down. I've tried."    
.   
Forceps followed her in, still looking calm, and sat across the table from her.  _.:I assumed the protectiveness was because I could very easily manipulate them into just about anything. I don't intend to, but... Primus, they would be easy to manipulate. For just about anyone. Especially me. Goodness they get attached quickly. And, no, I don't recall hearing that name. I suppose it's possible they mentioned it in passing and I don't recall, but we've never discussed anyone by that name in any depth:. _

 

Salvo smiled, "That  _ is _ him, huh." He withdrew his servo at last and placed it in his lap once again. He sat silently for a bit, soaking in Blackspark's warmth, letting the sounds of the bar wash over him. The sparkles in his optics was beginning to fade just a bit. He drained the rest of the drink and let it sink in. He watched Draft sitting at the table with two other large mechs, he seemed happy, interested. Was about time. "Yanno... you almost sounded sad for a second there,"  he said to Blackspark at last. His tone was nonjudgmental, not a hint of play-fun either, just curiosity and a hint of high grade-induced lethargy.   
.   
"It's lots of lists," Sticks said, finding a spot to curl up an amicable but not stifling distance from Milu, "Old lists, stuff that hadn't been digitized yet. Course, the important things  _ were, _ like old census information- got passed off to another department, but only if it was mildly relevant. Nobody wants to go through the effort of digitizing a pre-war list of bots who signed a petition to get more public fountains installed. But you never know when that might be useful to someone, so you keep it. Stuff like that. And old maps, building plans and the like. I don't... remember dealing with much on miners, but I do know there was a big to-do about maps for the mines on Luna 2. Even way after Megatron's whole... thing, you still had to have special clearance to get to em."    
Sticks stopped as a thought presented itself to them. They frowned, optics dimmed, "I... heard about what happened to Cybertron. The Iacon archives probably got destroyed, huh."   
.

Draft frowned, "I had Sticks and Bowline in mind. They always seem to get so  _ into _ things, the fools. Bowline especially, though, for some reason she's very..." he looked up, searching for the word, "brittle? She's got some found armor already but it doesn't do much and she will fight if need be. I'll ask her if she wants anything in particular. Sticks, meanwhile, they're so  _ tiny, _ but I'd have to agree, getting them to wear armor would be tricky. It'd have to look good." He half-chuckled at the idea, "The rest I'm not too worried about, Salvo, Burner, and me we're all pretty tough and well, Spade's a coward."

.   
"You are correct in your assessment." Bowline sighed, "I see how they speak of you, their face lights up in a way it hasn't for a long time. They are in deep. Aphelion was the last one to draw their attention such." She shifted, sitting further upright, her massive frame taking up almost the entire of Forceps's vision. She leaned her helm down closer, her optic meeting theirs in an unwavering stare, "I want you to understand, Forceps. The last time they felt this way, it very nearly killed them. It is with no hyperbole that I state  _ they will die for you. _ Do not give them the chance to do so. "   
She straightened up again, returning her helm to a friendly distance, "That is all I have to say. I can tell you what happened if you wish or you may ask Sticks about Aphelion, however I doubt their version will impart the severity of the event."

 

"Aaah. Yeah. A li'l bit. Just... I literally did not ask for this, y'know?" Blackspark sighed, squeezing Salvo for something like comfort, seeming vaguely melancholy but not quite sad. Not quite. "Never really... okay, look, I like kids. I thought 'bout me with 'em, once or twice, but never as a... real, genuine consideration of somethin' that would  _ happen _ . This? This was me havin' way too much fun at a party, takin' at  _ least _ two people back t' my room, an' I still ain't sure on that number, an' forgettin' to not open my spark chamber. I mean, that- they were as drunk as I was, so 's not great but they weren't exactly tryin' anything. But, yeah. I wake up a whole day later wi' somethin' flutterin' 'round in my spark chamber. I found an old medical scanner, an' I... well. I figured out what was goin' on. An' for a nanoklik or two, I started tryin' t' figure out how to get rid of it. Just... heh. Not quite panic, more 'holy slag' kinda thing. 'cos I have no idea how to be a parent! An' Cybertron's all gone to slag. But... 's  _ alive _ . Even- even back then. No emotions, too young, but... alive. An' I... thought about it, an' I wanted to keep it. So now 's a  _ him _ instead of  _ it _ , an' I got lots of medical texts but I still don' really know what I'm doin'. I mean-"

Pausing, he straightened up a bit, his field brightening from that almost-sadness to something considerably more cheerful, albeit still quiet. "I want this. I like kids, I... Pit, I mean, I got this far, wouldn't'a got this far if I didn't want to. No one's makin' me. I just have" almost laughing at this point "absolutely no idea how I am gonna raise a kid! After an apocalypse, no less. Dear Primus this's gonna be tricky. But, hey- people grow up in worse situations an' come out okay. I-I figure- I jus' gotta keep th' kid from gettin' eaten or- or kidnapped too many times, an' that'll work out okay, yeah? An' at least  _ Patches _ knows what he's doin'. Patches wants like five kids, an' he used to be a kid-medic. Before th' war kinda... ended kids bein' a thing, y'know."    
.

"Oh, the building, absolutely" Milu declared, then sat up a bit further, nudging a pouch on the wall that rattled slightly. "-but that's full of data-chips, I don't even know what's on all them. Data storage does okay in an apocalypse, it turns out! If it doesn't fall off something high and break, and if nothing eats it and it's not where the elements can get it- well, whoever makes these makes them to last a really, really long time. The building's all collapsed, I'm sure, but there's gotta be a lot of stuff buried in there somewhere just waiting to be dug out. Someone's just gotta go dig it out. Huh- actually, I'd- Avalon? What d'you think? If we get the chance, you- you wanna go digging for data? With actual digging?"    
Avalon could evidently hear them, and he rumbled quiet approval, a strange, quiet, formerly-hidden EM field spreading just enough to swamp them both in approval.   
.

"And one of them is going to be a medic now. I've heard," Crucible sighed, shaking his helm slightly, and shut his forge with a light chuckle. "It's a good thing the war seems to be over, otherwise he'd probably get shot a good few times. We could see about making him armor of something more like mesh, perhaps? Bowline- depending on where the brittle areas are, that may be an intentional side effect of empurata. The medics could be able to help, hopefully. Past that, at least she's large and solid, that'll help with building her some armor. Plus I imagine she's patient enough to sit still and let us fit different things. That's always nice."    
Bracer had evidently COMMed Duo at some point, as the twins darted up long enough to give Bracer and Crucible a set of drinks, both a rich, dark, almost thick-looking mixture, though with considerably more for Bracer, then ducked out of sight again. Bracer patted them both before they were out of reach, something they both leaned happily into, and swished his cube a couple of times before taking a sip. "Mm- that's perfect. You wanna try? It's kind of, uh, thick. Lots of added materials, I've got some good deep gashes in my back plating I'm workin' on healing. Plus it tastes good like this. I can share if you'd like," he offered, leaning the cube slightly towards Draft.    
Crucible, on the other servo, did not. Crucible grasped his cube very tightly in both servos and held it close to his frame as if he fully expected someone to take it.    
.

Forceps remained outwardly calm, but couldn't sit perfectly still like this, not with someone large doing something that was dominant if not outright threatening. Their sawlets lifted higher, their optics narrowed, and their plating not-quite-clamped, a subtle set of gestures indicating they would not back down. Not a challenge, not aggressive, at least not among Decepticons. Just a steadfast show of quiet confidence. They were not afraid of Bowline.    
Ah. This was slightly akin to the sort of talk they'd expected at some point. Sighing quietly, Forceps almost glanced away, the slightest gesture of not-quite-submission, and gave a soft, amused huffing noise.  _.:I get the feeling they would die for anyone who so much as told them they were doing a good job at something. Believe me- I will not let that happen. If ever a situation arises where I cannot prevent them from dying for me, it will probably be due to me already being dead. I don't intend to give them the chance to so much as fight a turbo-fox alone for a very long time if I can help it in the slightest. I... cannot completely guarantee that I can keep them safe, to be perfectly honest, but I will do everything in my power to keep them away from harm. They deserve it. They are... so, so sweet, I...:. _

Their optics shut and they blushed just a fraction, thoroughly ruining their intent to speak out loud, then they opened their optics again and leaned up towards Bowline.  _.:I want them to be happy, and I will do everything I can to give them that. I swear it on everything I have, I will protect them:. _ they declared, field flaring out and  _ pulsing _ , startlingly powerful for a small bot.  _ Determination/conviction/ferocity _ with an undernote of  _ embarrassment/affection/hope _ , optics bright, projecting everything they could to convince Bowline of this.  _.:You:. _ a quick scoff  _.:saw something of the extent of my feelings for them earlier, embarrassing as that was. I am not used to having emotions sufficient to produce physical changes unrelated to adrenaline or... other hormones. Please:. _ another glance away  _.:take my word for it when I say that I am normally considerably more composed and rational than you saw. I would much appreciate if you forget that incident:. _

Embarrassment and tiny glances aside, Forceps didn't back down until Bowline moved back slightly, and only relaxed back into their usual posture once she stopped being large and impressive. Mostly instinct at this point, used to Decepticon posturing.

 

"Hmm," Salvo leaned back, "One exciting party, huh. Yanno, maybe I'm kinda speaking outta my aft a lil bit or maybe I'm making assumptions, but you're not alone in this. I mean, Patches, sure, he's one of us, but you got a whole boat full of people around you. I don't know how many of em could really help, or how many'd want to but..." he leaned his head back again, staring at the ceiling, "agh I'm drunk. Prolly not making any sense, but-just. You're not alone. You don't have to try to teach him how to be a person on your own, we'll all be here to help. Pit, I don't know if you even want to stay here, do people stay here? Or do they just- stay and leave, I dunno." His processor was definitely rather scattered from the high-grade, but his words seemed genuine.   
.   
Sticks put a servo up to the bag, optics wide, glowing reverently. They sighed, "these are fairly old -even by my standards. We tried not to work directly with data-chips, storing information in these huge server banks instead. Which means..." they paused, looking crestfallen, "everything I did- everything I was proud of doing- no longer exists. Though.. I suppose it just means we'd have to build it up again. Er- People would." They weren't an archivist anymore, not that they'd particularly missed the job. Being a medic felt better, but archivist was a good fit too, while it lasted. Old habits, they figured, would take a bit to weed out.    
"I spent some time with these things way back when. I can see if I can digitize them for you? I don't know if we have a chip adaptor on board but if we do we could see what's inside em." Sticks looked at Milu, employing a friendly grin.

.   
Crucible's gesture did not miss Draft as his gaze traveled to Bracer's extended cube. He gave no visible reaction but mentally took note. It was not a particularly surprising reaction, but nonetheless unusual in the extent of it. He reached a servo to borrow Bracer's cube long enough for a sip. "It's  _ bitter. _ Must be an acquired taste," he said looking surprisingly down into the mixture before handing it back to its owner, "Gashes, huh? Curious." Draft wasn't one to pry, even when tipsy, but the ship was so calm it was hard to imagine wounds were a normal occurrence. Almost as an afterthought he turned to Crucible for a moment, "You were talking about Sticks, right? They're a they for some unfathomable reason, not that they'd correct you on it."   
.   
"You know as well as I, nothing short of mnemosurgery will cause someone to simply forget. To ask someone to do so is instead inviting their attention to the memory," Bowline could feel Forceps's sincerity blasting through their field but... with a hint of shame. It was, she thought, deeply endearing, "It would do you well to shift your mindset -to carry on with the incident, instead of trying to hide it. Leave it be. Live with it. Unpack it when you can no longer feel shame about it. That memory convinced me of your truth. I believe you, Forceps and I believe  _ in _ you as well. I believe in your earnestness, in your ability to do great good. Though, I believe you sell yourself short. Sticks does not fall for anyone, despite what you may think. Aphelion was an irresistible mixture of romantic and poetic and before them was me."   
Here she stopped, her optic inscrutable as usual. She put one servo over the other on the table and continued, "The worst thing Aphelion did to Sticks was die, the same would apply to you."

 

"You make more sense drunk than some people do sober," Blackspark cackled, snuggling his contemplative teddy bear, and absentmindedly petted Salvo's... everything in easy reach. "Nah, I getcha. I'm okay. I jus' get occasional 'the FUCK am I doing' moments, ya know?" he muttered, burrowing his face into Salvo's neck for comfort. "Mm. An' yeah, I wann' stay. Lotta people do. 's a good ship. Some of 'em hop off on Cybertron. Sometimes we kinda jus' drop people off at th' nearest port if they're afts. Usually 's the 'doesn't respect others' triggers' kinda aft. Heh, someone- someone tried t' bully Acus an' we hadta keep Scalpel from throwin' him out the airlock 'till we'd landed. She was piiiiissed. Almost funny. Could swear I heard Acus gigglin' after, an' he don't giggle. Shy li'l thing. You met 'im? Th' li'l medic with th' orange bits. Shy. Nice, though."   
.

Milu wasn't sure what to do, but he reached over and sympathetically patted Sticks' arm, then fished something else out of another pocket. A small, portable chip adaptor, some of its casing carefully soldered back into place. "Found this kinda beat up. I put it back together, but I haven't tried it with anything. I don't want to risk frying something if I've put it back together wrong. Be a shame, y'know? But, uh, I'm- I'm sure we have other ones on board. You- you're gonna be a medic, right? So you'll be busy, but... I-I don't know, a hobby, maybe? If you have time?"    
.

"Mm. Yeah, probably. I- I was construction for a bit, picked up a taste there. Construction mechs get kinda banged up, even in good places. Just- hauling big stuff is heavy work an' you get beat up some, mostly armor. You get a taste for something to help yourself heal right," Bracer shrugged, then, slowly, moved to pat Crucible's shoulder. "He's just high-energy in alt. It's kinda funny, you know? Look at him. He's  _ slow _ , I mean I can walk faster than his alt, but he burns more'n a race car if he's going for awhile. Me, I'm kinda high-energy just 'cos I'm big. Low for my size."    
Crucible stared down at his cube for a moment, taking a carefully slow sip, then sighed and shook his helm slightly. ""Ah, my bad. Hard to tell from a distance. And, uh. In the interest of honesty, I have... some issues with fuel. I nearly starved to death several times, so I can be rather... defensive. Nothing against you or anyone else, it isn't personal. It's just me. Not... actually that rare at this point, a lot of people have food issues. Scalpel, ah- her, I'm not sure why, but she can be  _ violently _ defensive of a meal. She won't hurt you if you don't try to snatch her fuel, but, ah- well, someone's idiot friends dared him to try to steal her morning energon, thinking that, as she was a medic with delicate servos, she wouldn't hit him. She did not. She bit him and did not let go for several moments. Which I happen to think was appropriate, he was terribly rude and she scared some politeness into him."    
.

_.:I don't need any additional encouragement to avoid dying, but I will keep that in mind. And if they enjoy poetry and romance I do not know what their interest is in me. Now... I am going to do the best I can for them. Do you have any advice for that? Because I am...:._   
Sighing quietly, they rested their forehelm on the table for a moment, ex-venting deeply. _.:I have never done anything romantic in my life. The best I can do is... silly, and I do not find myself inclined to watch any sort of romantic fiction to figure out what to do. The only thing that comes to mind is figuring out a gift they would enjoy. Or... one type of massage or another. I would appreciate your help. And, ah. Thank you for the... complimentary words? And the warning. I can make no promises but I will do my best. And I am tired enough to stay like this, I think,:._ they declared, and stayed more or less lying on the table with their chassis pressed to it.

  
  


"I..." Salvo frowned, "I don't think I've actually seen him. Sticks talks about him sometimes though, kept bragging about how he did the details on their new servos. I love them dearly but sometimes they just never shut up, yanno? Oh is he..." his visor dimmed for a second as he stared at the ceiling, searching for something in his memory, "he the one who lives in a cabinet? I think I've seen him disappear into there. Anyway. Can't understand why someone would wanna pick on someone else like that. Not very nice..."   
Salvo twitched in his seat, slowly turning his head forward. "Ha! That's what was bothering me! Parties need music. Something to dance to. I-ohh" he leaned forward very slowly, evidently quite disoriented from the combination of high grade and hallucinations. "Whaddya think Blackspark? Should I ask the twins for some tunes -some jams?"   
.   
Sticks smiled, "Look at that! I'll take a look when I can find the right time. Glad to know we've at least got a backup! I can probably get Spade to give their professional opinion too, they're good with electronics. If we're lucky some of those chips could have some old literature on em! " They took another drink, "it's very exciting, to be honest. There could be  _ anything _ in those chips. Do you happen to remember where you found them? "   
.

 

Draft's optics widened as he took another sip from his own cube, "Well that's one way to solve a problem. All I've heard about that femme points to her being very scary. You see her walk out with Burner? Wonder how that's gonna go." He paused, giving Crucible a pat on the shoulder, "And, don't worry. I wasn't about to question it. Don't feel like you need to explain things to Choir folks. We figured out early on some questions were better left unanswered and un-asked. Confidentiality pact, though restraint does tend to fade with high-grade." Here he rolled his optics, punctuating the gesture with a sip from his cube, "just tell us what we should do and we'll do it- well mostly, can't speak for Burner or Salvo."   
.   
"I am aware of the inclination. I simply tell people what they should hear. It may feel silly or disingenuous, but what of those feelings when it gets your desired outcome? Granted I am aware this is not a popular way of going about social interactions. " Bowline said, "You should know whatever you are doing, it is working. I doubt you need to worry." She paused, sinking further into her seat, "This is not useful to hear, however. They enjoy attention- crave it almost. Physical attention, mental attention, encouragement, they need the validation. They seem to be partially aware of their need, though, not enough to take care of themself by serving it. You will know when they're having trouble when they disappear for long stretches of time."   
Bowline was silent for a moment, debating what to say next, "My advice extends to there, as I have never known anything of romance. Hopefully this is useful."

  
  


"Doesn't  _ live _ in the cabinet. Lives with Scalpel. They're a thing. He's jus' shy. You can go an' chat with him- the one cabinet in the medbay with the knobs that don't match the rest, 'cos those knobs are also on the inside. Knock first an' say hello. Li'l cutie," Blackspark purred, and gave Salvo a slightly tighter squeeze to keep him supported and in place. "Hey, hey- no gettin' up. Yer gonna fall out. I, uh- don't know if they have music, actually. If they do, 's probably weird. Or off-planet stuff, they somehow got a lot of movies from other planets. Hey- Duo! Ya noodles! Ya got any music?"    
Duo paused their rearranging of materials on a shelf, chattering lightly at each other, then grinned and ducked under the counter again. When they popped back up, they were holding a speaker apiece, and they set both on the bartop before doing something with wires and a data-pad. After a few more moments, music began to play, something lively and relatively suitable but thoroughly alien. It was probably played on woodwinds, actual woodwinds, made of materials nonexistent on Cybertron. They'd made a friend! An organic friend who had music and movies to share. Who was now dead of old age, which was sad, but not surprising. Organics didn't live long.    
.

Milu reached over to pick up a few more chips, turning them over to show that some were labeled with coordinates. "Some, yeah. Some are from back behind an old bar, so... music? Maybe? These are out of what was left of a library. Bad infestation of... something a bit odd. Like Scraplets, but they're smaller, quieter, and they have more legs. They build little hives to live in, and they don't attack people. They're really bad for electronics, though, they chewed up pretty much all the data-pads and most of everything else. These were in a locked box that I guess they couldn't get into. These others, I don't know, Avalon found them. He knew what they are, but didn't have anything to read them on. These're all pretty old, but he's older. His hardware is- the- ah-" oh, that was definitely a blush, "-his plugs are a completely different shape than mine. Though I don't know how much of that is just because he's a miner and I'm... definitely not. Some of it's gotta be age, though. Right?"    
.

Crucible sighed and visibly relaxed, optics softening, but kept his cube held close to his frame as he took another sip. "Just, ah... don't be an aft who tries to steal someone's fuel, that's about it. And don't put your drink in arms' reach of me in case I pick it up, 'cos... I apologize in advance, but I will have a very hard time giving it back. People in general, don't startle anyone. Especially Scalpel. She's a bit, ah... feisty. I mean- don't get me wrong, she's perfectly nice, she won't hurt you unless you, uh... try to steal her fuel, threaten someone, or announce that you're a rapist. So don't do that. Burner, uh..."    
Bracer giggle-snorted lightly and shook his helm, gesturing slightly with his half-empty cube. "So, Scalpel's with Acus. But... I guess Scalpel likes things sometimes that Acus doesn't like to do? 'cos she's... she's fragged a few other people, just- just as sort of a-" more giggling, starting to turn into a rather intense blush, "-she has  _ tastes _ and they are  _ fun _ . And, and, uh, good at- at the whole negotiation part of things, but, heh- oh, okay, yeah, I'm drunk. Ish. And tha-a-at... that's a thing," he muttered, his vents kicking a notch or two higher in vague arousal. Evidently that was a very good memory. "Burner's in- in good servos. Very... nimble... good servos."    
.

_.:Understood. It is hardly anything of a hardship to give them attention. They are... cute. I wish they did not need as much assurance as they do, but they are... very, very cute,:._ Forceps declared, finally lifting their helm slightly. _.:That should be useful, thank you. Ah- I do not know how much they have been telling you, but their recovery is going well. They are still working through their physical therapy, so they... well, their drink tonight is tied to their servo, but that will improve in time. Their processor is not used to this level of... dexterity, flexibility, strength, sensitivity, everything. Can you tell me... they are the type to hide pain, I suspect. I have no reason to think that they should be in any real degree of pain, they should be mildly sore at worst, but I don't know if they will reply honestly if I ask about their pain. For this, and for the future... do you have any suggestions of how to tell?:._   
A blink, then another, then they sighed and spoke. "I do not want them to be in pain."

 

Salvo's visor brightened considerably at the music, "It  _ is _ weird but I can jam to this. I just-ah." He attempted to push himself out of the chair but was stopped by Blackspark's restraining arms. He sighed and leaned back, sinking down. "Duuuuude, how am I supposed to make bad decisions when you're stopping me," he whined, ever-so-slowly sliding further down into the chair. Being sneaky, however, was out of the question as his bullet trails began to grind against each other, making a high-pitched metallic squeak. He stopped at the noise, grimacing for a moment before brightening up, devious grin in place. "How much you wanna bet I can get big and surly over there to dance with me?" He said, tossing a languid finger at Draft.   
.   
Sticks squinted for a moment, "I... don't actually have an answer to that question. Maybe if I'd gone to medical school instead..." They chuckled wryly, "I don't think I've dealt much with mechs of Avalon's age but... there's no way they  _ didn't _ make some port adaptors, right?"    
The strange music drifted in. Sticks sat up, surprised, "They're playing... music? Huh." They stayed still and listened for a bit, "It's odd. Definitely not Cybertronian but it's got some tonal progressions in common. I wonder what's going on."   
Sticks stood up, putting a servo on the exit wall. They looked back at Milu, "I'm gonna go check it out, you wanna come too?"

.   
Draft nodded at Crucible then turned to Bracer, eyebrows raised slightly, "I'm not particularly worried for Burner's safety. They're right near the medbay after all. Perhaps, though, I should be more worried for my own sanity. She's trying to outdo Sticks for some inane reason and I have a feeling she won't shut up about it if it goes well." He shook his head before downing the rest of the drink. It would probably be a long week, wouldn't it. This was considerably better than the past, though. Celebrating stupid victories was infinitely more palatable than focusing constantly on loss-mitigation. And Primus, he was going to learn to  _ create _ things for once.  It was almost too good to be true. Draft sighed, his field shimmering slightly melancholy.    
"Though I suppose I don't mind that too much," he said at last.   
.

Bowline hummed low, deep, but smooth, like a lake on a calm, cloudy day. It was a few moments before she spoke again, "Neither do I." Her voice came out little more than a whisper. She turned her helm away slightly in what could only be called genuine affectation. It took a minute for her to regain her composure. She looked back to Forceps and sat up slightly, "I sense it in their field first. It smells just the slightest bit like energon. They will continue as if nothing is wrong. If it is something bad they will stop talking as much. Fortunately or not, they can't seem to hide immediate pain. I have seen them go into hysterics immediately after injuries but once they have calmed down, it is difficult to spot, even when I can tell it hurts."    
Bowline pushed a massive servo out to Forceps from across the table. It was an offer, nonjudgmental. Not willing to immediately touch someone so small, but perhaps offering a modicum of support, "They are infuriating, I know this. I want them to take care of themself but the battle has been uphill."   
Music began to filter in through the drawn curtains. Bowline turned her helm to the outside, "It seems Salvo got his way." she turned back to Forceps, "I would expect contact from Sticks soon. You will figure out why."   
A few moments passed and sure enough  _.:Forceps, they're playing music! What do you say to a dance?:. _ Sticks commed.

  
  


"Well, given that he seems t' like you, not much. I figure you got a decent chance. Buuut... you really wanna go, sure, fine, go fall on yer drunk face," Blackspark chuckled, deciding that Salvo probably wasn't about to badly hurt himself, and let go. "Go on. Let's see ya try to walk," he chuckled, giving Salvo an encouraging pat and a kiss on the nearest bit of plating, and lightly nudged him to his pedes. "Try not to fall over too hard. I normally wouldn't mind escortin' someone drunk off their aft, but I kinda can't afford bein' jabbed in the stomach too hard right now. Go on then- good luck! Give 'im a smooch for me," he purred, encouraging, lightly nudging at Salvo's frame. "Go on!"    
.   
"I  _ assume _ so, but we, uh. By the time we met, there weren't really... stores. Intact ones. Which is- is a shame, he'd probably be able to tell me a lot more over a link, y'know? Maybe now, if we- oh, huh, they  _ are _ . That's... ooh," Milu declared, leaning over to unlatch the lid and push it up, winglets perking and fluttering lightly at the sound. "I like that, it sounds really nice. It's- oh!"    
Avalon shifted, rumbling softly in excitement, and leaned over the table, helm up and cocked slightly, and purred. A soft, slow swaying motion, and he purred a bit louder, nearly growling in blatant enjoyment.    
.

"If she wants to outdo Sticks, alls she's gotta do is, uh- lift things, or, or wrestle, or do somethin' strength-related. They're a li'l thing," Bracer giggled, helm cocked, then offered Draft a servo. "You- you wanna lean on me some? Your field's doing a... thing. I don't know if leaning on me, or- or on him, would help any. Just casual."    
"Cuddly drunk," Crucible provided, happily leaning on Bracer, and patted his knee with the servo not clutching his cube. "Don't know how much you saw of construction-mechs before this whole mess, but they -we- tend to be very... physical. Especially in social interactions. Very strong about it, too, we, uh- aren't as sensitive to contact as most. Armor," he commented, rapping on Bracer's chassis plating, making a heavy, dull noise. "Especially him."    
.

Forceps was (understandably) a bit cautious about putting their fragile servos near someone this strong, but they reached out after a moment, setting both servos on hers. "That is good to know. Thank you. Ah- smells? Interesting. A synesthesia response of sorts, I suspect, fields are not generally perceived as having smells. Minorly interesting but likely irrelevant unless it is a recent development. And, yes" an annoyed huff "I would call them infuriating in this case. It makes me want to- you should understand, I would  _ never _ actually  _ hit _ them, but... it makes me want to smack them with something," they muttered, shaking their helm slightly. "I can, at least, reassure you that I have been making sure they fuel often enough. Medics in general are prone to reminding each other to fuel, we... tend to hyperfocus and forget," they admitted quietly, with a soft, wry smile.    
And then Sticks... had an idea. "Ah. I see what you mean."    
_.:I say that I am only graceful when climbing a patient or avoiding weapons. I do not think dancing is going to work,:. _ they declared, then paused and leaned over to peer through the curtains and see who else was here. Hm. The music... was not that bad, there weren't many people yet, and...    
Well. Sticks liked attention. Sticks definitely liked attention. This was attention. They'd look silly, but... Sticks might... well. Sticks would most likely enjoy this.  _.:However. I, ah. Would be willing to... make an attempt. If you understand that I am likely to be very bad at it. I will try:. _

 

Salvo swayed, still clearly dazed. He took a tentative step forward, testing where exactly the floor was. It wasn't too bad. He took another step forward, keeping his weight low. He got an idea, "Hey Blackspark watch this." he murmured, optics on Draft.   
"Burner, she's got this thing," Draft said, "Has to one-up someone somehow. Inferiority complex if you ask me. This week it's Sticks and interface, next week who knows." He leaned back slightly. Strongly considering Bracer's offer, he glanced back just in time to see Salvo fall flat on his face.    
Sticks frowned at the new noise of face against floor. "That's, well. Now I  _ have _ to go see what that was. I'll follow up with you about those data chips," they said, pushing their way out of the room and deftly climbing back up onto Avalon's shoulder. They stood up there, watching from on high. Their frown got deeper. Salvo lay on the floor facedown. Draft pushed up out of the booth, not hurriedly per se, but unable to truly hide at least some concern. He knelt down next to Salvo, putting a servo at the base of his neck.

"Are you alright?" He said, voice low but not quiet enough to not be heard.   
"Draaaaaaft" Salvo whined.   
A dubious smile crossed Sticks's face- he was fine.   
Salvo lifted his helm upward to look Draft directly in the optics, "Dance with me Draaaaaaft."   
The larger mech narrowed his optics and lightly pushed Salvo's head down to the floor again, "You're drunk."   
"So are you?" Salvo said, slightly muffled by the floor.   
Draft sighed, his expression softened as a smile lighted on his face, "You're not wrong."   
Sticks looked to Avalon, "He's incorrigible. Gotta have the theatrics, huh." They let out a short cackle before relaying the scene to Forceps,  _.:Salvo's out there on the dance floor completely blasted, you'll be fine. Besides, I'll lead:. _ A pause  _.:You don't have anything to worry about Songbird:. _   
Bowline nodded her helm out the curtains, "It is nothing to concern yourself with. I believe it is a side-product of my empurata. Now, enjoy yourself."

 

Blackspark cackled quietly in the background, not terribly concerned, and called "so what'm I supposed to be watchin'?" teasingly out at Salvo. He'd expected something like this, but, hey, Salvo was fine. "Awh, dance wi' the poor drunk cutie! Throw 'im over yer shoulder or somethin', you're big enough. Pick 'im up!"    
Bracer seemed slightly less amused. Crooning "awh, poor baby," he leaned slightly towards Draft, offering a servo to the bots who were far too out of reach to take it. "You wanna bring him over here? I've got room. I can keep him from fallin' over. Or you can, uh, heh- you- you could tie him to you and dance! That- I-I don't know, would that work?" he asked the general area around Crucible, optics not quite focusing on the smelter. Not that Crucible minded.    
  
Forceps muttered something along the lines of "worth an attempt" and stood up, stepping out from behind the curtain. An instant's hesitation, not liking the idea of potentially looking inept in public, but- well, no one expected medics to dance well, and Salvo was being more distracting in any case. Moving quietly, they strode over to Sticks, hesitated for another instant, then offered the beginning of a smile and held out both servos, palms up. "All right. Show me," they whispered, frame deliberately relaxing as if expecting to be picked up, ready for guidance.    
  


Sticks's optics brightened at the sight of Forceps. They smiled, turning to Avalon for a moment, "It was very nice to meet you, Avalon." With that they drained the rest of their drink. A step back, then they launched themself off the larger mech's shoulder, landing on the table with a somersault to deflect the force of the fall and used the conserved momentum to hop from the table to the ground, at last coming to a halt in front of Forceps, the light in their wild optics reflected in their smile. They gently gripped one of Forceps's wrists and led them to the dancefloor.   
Draft turned a bit, having caught the two medics out of the corner of his optic. He looked back at Salvo first, then Blackspark and grinned, actually grinned.    
"Alright then, Salvo you're not feeling nauseous are you?" Draft said, leaning down close to Salvo's audial.   
Salvo turned his helm to look up into Draft's face, "Not a bit."   
"Good." Draft said, fitting his servos under Salvo's shoulders to bring him up on his pedes. The latter was already bouncing a bit to the beat of the music. Draft meanwhile, placed his servos on Salvo's hips, beginning to sway slightly. Salvo joined in to a ridiculous degree, knocking his hips back and forth to the rhythm, getting so into it his helm joined in.

"I'm a little rusty but if I remember correctly," Sticks said, unaware of their friends's jaunt in their periphery, "it goes like this." They gently brought Forceps's servo to their shoulder, put one of their own on their hip then captured their other, holding it up about helm-height. They huffed a bit. Forceps  _ was _ a bit tall for them to lead but by Primus they would do it. For good measure, they brought their held servos down to plant a light kiss on their fingers. Standing up straight, they looked Forceps in the optics, "All you have to do is be my mirror. When I step to the side, you step to the same side, when I step forward, you step back and vice versa."   
They paused for a moment to listen to the music eventually nodding to the beat, "I'm gonna step right twice and then left twice, then forward and back twice as slow. Don't think too hard about it, you just gotta follow me." And with that they took a quick step right.

  
  


Blackspark, leaning back further in his chair, aimed a huge grin and two uplifted thumbs at them and relaxed to watch. He wasn't in much of a shape to dance right now, not with a belly full of another person who would strongly object to being significantly jostled. Nor did he have the energy for that. Or... other things. Really, though, bit of a shame that Salvo wasn't interested in interface. Mech was cute. Nice and responsive, too. Ah well. Some people weren't interested in some things. He'd just enjoy the two sets of dancers for now. And vaguely consider whether he ought to try and coax Bracer into- could Bracer dance? At all? Probably not much. He was precise, but not what one would call graceful.    
  
Don't think too hard. Right. Because telling a medic not to think worked so well. Forceps made a quiet scoffing noise, then sighed, shook his helm, and went along with Sticks. It felt warm and nice enough for now, and... mirroring? Now, that, Forceps could do. Optics dimming slightly, they fixed their optics lower on Sticks' frame, around their chassis, watching how they were about to move. This was how they worked against an opponent, to avoid a panicking patient- watch as the movement started in their core, and respond accordingly. If that just meant taking a step in a particular direction... that wasn't hard.    
Forceps wasn't a dancer, but they were nimble enough, and the pattern of steps was easy to fall into. Once they had it to some extent, they raised their optics slightly, focusing on Sticks' face instead, optics still dimmed a fraction in relaxation.

  
  


Sticks smiled, "Not so bad right?" They pulled Forceps in slightly by their hip, close enough so they could put their forehelm in the crook of the other's neck. Their optics dimmed, glimmering warmly in the ambient light of the bar,  "Nothing to worry about."   
Their steps slowed slightly. It was difficult to keep up the same tempo with the close proximity. Sticks laughed slightly, trying their best to keep them on track, "It's much nicer to do this with slower music."   
  
"You ready?" Draft said to Salvo, who was barely paying attention.    
"Ready for whaaa~t?" Salvo said, looking into Draft's face.   
"Something a little exciting," He replied. Both were still swaying side to side but neither of them was on beat. Salvo was too drunk to care and Draft didn't care in the first place, "You want me to tell you?"   
"Nah, I'm ready." Salvo said, smiling.   
With that Draft paused for a moment, caught Salvo's servo in one of his, leaned the mech into a dip and then with one arm, launched him spinning into the air. Salvo's visor brightened as he landed aft first into Draft's waiting arms, yell-laughing the entire time.   
  
The flurry of movement caught Sticks's optic. They stopped and pulled away to watch it go down. Their face had a questioning but devious expression as they looked back to Forceps, saying nothing.

  
  


Blackspark lifted his helm slightly in thought, helm cocked, optics gleaming, and quietly COMMed the twins. A moment later, the music shifted- clearly still the same source, about the same instruments, but much more suitable for close dancing. The twins, meanwhile, had gotten distracted, and were leaned over the bartop watching the dance floor. And, when it felt suitable, they lowered the lights a reasonable amount, optics glimmering in something like amusement.    
  
Forceps stared at the mech throwing his partner into the air, then down at Sticks, optics narrowing skeptically. *.:...I am not going to throw you into the air. I would rather not risk you breaking something, as I have absolutely no experience with throwing people for any reason other than to get them  _ away _ from me. My confidence in successfully catching you is not high enough to attempt it. Wrong build. I was rather... enjoying myself, with...:.*    
Pausing, they cradled Sticks close again, pulling them in against their frame and tucking his helm back where it had fit so, so nicely. The music was softer now, calmer, and Forceps... could attempt this? Especially with the dim lights. It felt calm, almost... intimate. Not what they'd expected from this party, but... oh, what the Pit. Why not? They'd go with it. With everything. 

 

"Thought it was worth a shot," Sticks laughed, settling into their position. They were quiet for a bit as the two swayed, closing their optics until just the slightest glint of blue light reflected off the metallic mechanisms in Forceps's neck. Their field was calm, warm, but tinged with a tiny bittersweet pang. Forceps could feel the hold on their hip tightening ever-so-gently.    
Draft was the first to spot the two dancing and tapped Salvo's shoulder. Salvo let out a surprised grunting noise then followed Draft's point. They exchanged excited looks.    
Salvo laughed quietly, "That's not just for show, now."   
"It definitely isn't," Draft whispered. He looked down at Salvo, holding his servos out in offering.   
Salvo simply shook his head, turning back to watch the lovebirds. Draft signaled to go watch from the bar as opposed to standing for the entire dance. Salvo followed, pushing himself up onto a stool as Draft leaned against the counter, sliding a servo around Salvo's opposite shoulder to lean him closer against his frame.   
"I'm... glad you like this," Sticks murmured, the beginnings of a coherent thought on their mind. Something about the relationship had been bugging them. Not the relationship itself, and  _ especially _ not Forceps but... something had occurred to them once in the past weeks that had given them pause. They'd pinpointed it before but were too drunk to recall it now. With nothing better to say they followed with, "because I like it too."

 

 _.:I would if I felt like l had a good chance of not injuring you. Now, I will not throw you, but-:._   
Hopefully this worked. They didn't want to hold just Sticks' servo for this, didn't want to put any strain on the welds, so they gripped about halfway up the smaller mech's forearm and, gently, swung them into a dip. Relatively smoothly, even, supporting them with an arm around their back. They could mimic something. Just not the throwing. The ghost of a smile again, then they lifted Sticks up again and held them close, field unfurling to ripple a muddle of _enjoyment/relaxation/contemplation/concern_. _.:That is roughly 95% of the reason I agreed to this. Your continued enjoyment is... probably about 60% of why I'm still here. I... enjoy the motions, but, in particular, I am enjoying your pleasure. Please remember to... request things, Sticks. You are allowed to have things. And, if you are ever in pain, please, please tell me so that I can help. Relationships, of any sort, including work relationships with other medics, are supposed to be mutually beneficial. Work, friendships, whatever:._ a pause, pressing their forehelm to Sticks', _.:this is or develops into. You are supposed to like things. And I intend to remind you of this when you are sober. Now- do you want to stay out here, or do you want to try to get me drunk? I get- not talkative, of course. Someone described it as 'body language talkative'. I:._ a definite blush _.:had one person tell me it was cute:._

 

Sticks looked into Forceps's optics with a blush that mirrored theirs. Their field pulsed with a dazed kind of wonder, still reeling from the dip. "A-alright," their optics brightened for a bit, finally remembering what was bugging them, "A-and don't forget to tell me when I can do something for you! I couldn't forgive myself if I kept forcing you into things you don't like."   
That finally off their chest Sticks felt lighter, much lighter. They took one of Forceps's servos in both of their own, "Right, I never  _ did _ get to see you properly drunk."  _.:Though:. _ they added over comm with a smile,  _.:I think you're cute all the time- except when you're hot:. _   
Turning to walk to the bar, they spotted the many onlookers, even Bowline had poked her head out to see. Their blush deepened and for a moment they were just the slightest bit embarrassed. Quickly though, their embarrassment turned to pride. As before they smiled through it leading Forceps over to the bar and sitting down a couple seats away from where Draft and Salvo were.    
The two bigger bots said nothing when Sticks and Forceps approached, only beaming and leaning closer into each other. They seemed to relish in the ability to observe from up close.

  
  


_.:...you do know you have no way of forcing me to do something, yes? Short of aiming a gun at my helm. I only do things that I want to do, that are required to save someone's life, or that I am neutral about but see some merit in doing. I do not:. _ and then they stopped, blushed more deeply, hitched their sawlets up, and aimed a  _ glare _ at the rest of the room. They were not being cute. Well- maybe slightly. But it wasn't for these people. It was for Sticks. Sticks  _ only _ . Maybe,  _ maybe _ just the slightest bit for Bowline as proof that they were genuine here.    
Regardless. Sawlets hitched up and deliberately flared to present any watchers with the flats of the blades in a near-threat, they went with Sticks to the bar, aiming most of their glare at the sniggering twins on the other side of the bar. .They were doing that  _ face _ again. The  _ face _ they'd made at Sharpshot comforting Longrange. The "oh isn't that cute" face.    
Duo, undaunted by the glaring (mostly), grinned and bumped their helms together, optics glinting brightly in amusement. Until Forceps aimed a very rude gesture at them, at which they mock-pouted, snickered, huffed, and turned to Sticks. "Drinks?" they asked, but clearly knew the answer even before they asked it, as they were putting something together already. With two straws because what  _ else _ could they get Forceps to do that was cute? Because Forceps was not normally cute and this was fun to poke.

 

"Ah I believe that is just _drink._ " Sticks said, unable to stifle a chuckle. They glanced at Forceps, _.:Not entirely my thing but I'm not disinclined to humor them:._   
Salvo whistled, it was a bold move on Duo's part. Draft couldn't stop himself from letting out a short cackle. The two watched the beverage intently waiting to see what would happen.   
Sticks shot a glare at the two. So now it was a challenge. They leaned back in their seat and looked again to Forceps, _.:Maybe it's the high grade I've already had but I'm not about to let em-all of em- get away with that. Hope I'll do you proud Songbird:._  
Sticks cleared their throat and looked Duo straight in the optics as they leaned down, taking both straws in their mouth and draining the cube in one go. The first thing they noticed was that it was stronger than they'd expected. They frowned but, not one to quit when challenged, continued until the cube was dry. They gripped the counter to stop themself from reeling back as the whole room seemed to spin.   
After a few moments of straight vertigo, Sticks slid an elbow onto the counter and looked Duo again in the optics,   
" _Drinks_ is plural."

 

"Two drinks in one cube, two straws, counts as two," Duo shrugged, grinning, then went silent and cocked their helms to watch. Well. Far be it from them to stop Sticks from drinking what was definitely enough to put both them and Forceps firmly in "buzzed" territory. Not the response they'd expected! They'd rather thought the two might end up sliding the cube back and forth between them. Sometimes Acus and Scalpel did that. It was a tiny bit cute but also something that friends might do. This? Okay. Leaning forward slightly, they took the empty cube, lifted it to stare at it, and gestured slightly to Salvo. "-is what happened last time someone decided to drink entire drink at once. Drinks made for all at once are in  _ small _ glasses. This? Not small."    
Forceps watched Sticks with an expression that suggested they weren't sure whether to be amused, concerned, or somehow appreciative, one optic ridge raised and one sawlet perked, and reached a servo to put it on their back and stabilize them.  _.:I'm not sure what you meant to prove with that. I'm vaguely impressed. In the way I would be impressed by someone who managed to spectacularly dislocate something. Please try not to fall over and hit your helm on anything, and if you purge, aim it away from me:. _

Hm. Duo watched for a moment more, then zipped around behind a section of shelf-covered wall, reappeared with an entire small armchair, vaulted over the bartop with it, and proceeded to replace Sticks' bar stool with said chair. By lifting them, quite casually, and putting them in the chair before they put it back into place. "There! Now- no falling on helm," they declared, and bounced over the bartop again, reassembling drink ingredients. This time, they picked out two containers, and offered Forceps and Sticks two entirely different things. Sticks' drink was as non-intoxicating as they could make, almost clear despite a swirl of their favorite glitter. There was flavor and a bit of conductive copper for a light energy-buzz, but it wouldn't do anything to get them drunker. Forceps had what looked like the original drink, with  _ one _ straw. Probably shouldn't give Sticks anything else intoxicating.    
_.:They mean well. But they are... this. Playful,:. _ Forceps sighed, looking down at Sticks, not having bothered to try to dissuade them. They weren't up to anything in particular, best to just let them do it.  _ It's usually best to go with them unless they make you uncomfortable. Their social skills are underdeveloped, but... they try. Much as I dislike their teasing and general... high energy, it is not meant to upset anyone. If they upset you, tell them and they will stop:. _

"Not bothered, jusssst tryin to prove a point," Sticks said, "Ah slag just said that out loud huh." They sank into the chair, leaning their helm back against the back of the seat.   
Salvo grinned and reached down, trying to give Sticks a drunken high five. "No!!" they pulled their servo away and waited for him to stop moving instead before they grabbed his servo and shook, "No hitting!! Only pets now."    
"That was impressive buddy," Salvo said, cackling. Draft was definitely less impressed, rolling his optics. Clearly the team had rubbed off on each other in very specific ways.    
"Don't you have to work tomorrow," Draft said judgmentally from up high.   
"Slag, yeah you're right," Sticks murmured, realizing on some level their actions would have consequences that may or may not include a serious hangover.   
Sticks turned to look up at Forceps now, putting a servo on the closest part they could reach, the outside of their hip. Their optics were wide, slightly dazed as they leaned forward slightly to emphasize their point, "Come down here n sit next to me, babe," they pawed with their other servo for a moment before jolting upright, "But! Only if you want to. You can stay up there too if you wanna... I can watch you be cute from down here."

 

Forceps stared down at Sticks for a moment, then around at the room, considering things. That was a possibility. And, again, "cute" behavior. But... less so than the close-up dancing, yes? And Sticks, well. That chair was on the smaller side but was made for someone relatively average-sized. Sticks was small and looked even smaller. Lonely. Then they got hesitant about asking Forceps to sit next to them, and slag that. Forceps took a long drink of their energon and slid down to sit next to Sticks in the chair, squished up against them slightly but not minding.  _.:Stop being that cautious about wanting things. This is hardly objectionable and you do not need to clarify that I am allowed to refuse. I am doing so for your benefit because you are what I would call eager to please. I am... not:. _ they scoffed, curling gently against Sticks, and pulled a large bolt from subspace to chuck it at Duo when they aimed that "cute" expression again.    
Duo giggled and dodged the bolt, but scooted over to Salvo and Draft again, grinning at them both. Especially at Salvo. "Like the drink? Shoulda been slower, but- good? Drug is light, gentle, safe. No bad trips because no images! Just blinkies."

 

Scalpel opened the door to her room, waited for Burner to get inside, and immediately shut and locked the door behind them, her posture shifting from relatively normal levels of dominant-self to what Acus had called, shakily, "dom pose". Winglets up in just the right way, spread slightly further than normal, just about prowling with every step, optics burning with an icy fire. It could have been intimidating if her plating hadn't been lifted in a way entirely unlike a threat display- spread too much, offering too many ways to reach underneath, something resembling a smirk on her face. "Well. Now that I've got you in here- you aren't behavin' yourself. So. You get on that berth, you sit, and you wait for me to decide what to do with you."    
She already knew.    
Scalpel's room was relatively simple, with the most noteworthy thing being a curtain hung a short distance from one wall, completely hiding that wall. The corner furthest from the door had a berth pressed into it, with a cabinet set in the wall over it and a nightstand nearby. Pulling a crate from under the bed, she set it on the nightstand, opened it so that Burner couldn't see inside, and considered the contents for a moment or two. "Let's see. You're gonna get a spanking, I think. Question is, what  _ with _ ?"

 

"Oh a spanking~ whatever am I going to do?" Burner sang from her spot on the berth. She had turned over onto her front and arched her back, sticking her aft out and perking her winglets up slightly. She couldn't keep her optics off Scalpel as the dom bent over to examine the box. Her posture was flawless, her professional aura commanding Burner's full attention. She was practiced, Burner could tell. One last thought dedicated to how thoroughly she was about to throw Sticks's lead and she at last dedicated herself fully to the situation. She wasn't just going to enjoy herself, no, she was going to  _ impress. _ She would blow Scalpel's mind. Figuratively and possibly literally if the situation called for it.

 

"Well, I'd tell you to be a good girl an' take it, but I doubt that's gonna happen," Scalpel commented, pulling a paddle from the box, and sat down on the berth with her legs crossed. Easily dragging Burner into her lap, she positioned the other femme with her aft exposed and one servo braced on Burner's lower back, holding her relatively still. "Grab those blankets, keep your servos to yourself, be  _ still _ , and we can be done with this sooner. Now- this thing has a shock absorber in the handle. My arm is not gonna get tired. And  _ you _ are not getting out of this position until you can convince me that you're going to be good," she warned softly, tracing the edge of the paddle down Burner's leg.    
.   
"Now. This paddle has two sides; one is padded" a light tap with that side, enough for Burner to feel the firm silicone over its surface, "and one not" another tap with the other side "and it is up to you what side you get. One stings slightly, the other considerably more so. We're going to start with ten on the padded side. If you want to keep it on the padded side, you count them off for me, and you try to be still. You can squirm if you need to, but you need to keep your aft up for me where I can reach. You keep your servos where they are, as well. You are not allowed to touch yourself or me until I give you permission. If you disobey that I will find a way to keep you from touching. You may call me 'Mistress', 'Ma'am', or any other title that comes to mind. You may  _ not _ refer to me by name right now. Simple rules; be still, be good, be respectful. Lastly, if you need to pause or stop, you  _ tell me _ . Now. We are going to begin. You are going to count. Start now."   
.

With that, Scalpel tightened her grip on Burner's lower back and brought the padded side of the paddle down, hard, in a satisfyingly loud  _ smack _ . This side would sting slightly, but didn't particularly hurt. The other? That one stung more, enough to start edging into pain if it was repeated. So, she was going to start with the easy side, see how that went, and, if Burner behaved as predicted, switch to something more likely to make her cooperative. Entirely confident that Burner was going to have no problems with, at the very least, this first part, Scalpel dealt the first three spanks in rapid succession, then paused, stroking the paddle lightly against Burner's aft, waiting to see how she intended to act.   
.

 

Scalpel could feel the distinct shudder travel up Burner's back. Burner's optics flashed for a moment, surprised at the sensation of quick, successive smacks. She leaned forward, in-venting sharply as a blush flared across her face for a few kliks. Her fans kicked up a bit, just enough to be heard by those listening for them. She came to realize she must never have gotten spanked before. She was quiet for a moment, resisting the undeniable urge to pop her hatch. No, she could hold out longer than that. Though all those years cooped up with the Choir when the undead bitch who was her only prospect was MIA wasn't helping. No.... she needed more. At last she leaned back again, voice low, optics flaring with a defiant spark, "Is that all you got, babe? But I've been so-" here she leaned backward more, pushing her aft even further into Scalpel's face, "naughty."

 

Scalpel pushed Burner back down into position, draped over her lap, and gave her a light warning tap with the un-padded side of the paddle. "I told you to count, and to be respectful. You are doing neither. So, little thing... that means you are going to get a proper spanking. And it is going to continue until you have counted ten, out loud, like a good girl. No matter how long that takes."    
With that, she brought the paddle down across Burner's aft, hard, and paused for only an instant to check for any sort of bad responses. Burner was fully enjoying herself, so Scalpel continued, setting a relatively quick pace. With her other servo, she pinned Burner down as strongly as possible, keeping her in place as she dealt the punishment that was fully due here. Burner was not cooperating in the slightest, so, unless this caused her any serious distress, Scalpel was going to spank her until she promised to be a good girl. She just had to be aware of Burner's panel so she didn't accidentally land one of these spanks against the edge of a bared valve, because that would hurt more than either of them wanted.    
Burner was definitely going to be a challenge. But... there was always something to be done about that. If a spanking didn't do the trick, there was always tying her up and teasing her until she was begging to be allowed to overload. This'd probably work, though, even if it  _ was _ by winding Burner up nice and high.    
After a half-dozen spanks, Scalpel paused and gently patted the paddle against Burner's thigh instead, voice soft and almost, almost disapproving. "You aren't being very good for me, are you?"

 

Burner bit her lip, the echoes of the last spank zinging through her lower back in response to the light touch of the paddle. Her whole pelvis seemed to buzz as her valve cried out for attention. Her breaths were heavy to match the flush in her face. The hot air issuing from her vents made her optics shimmer as she looked back at Scalpel. But oh that  _ voice. _ Burner felt her spike push up against the edge of its casing. It took restraint she didn't normally have to keep her servos on the berth- gripped tightly around her handholds of blankets. She would play by the rules, sure, but only on her own terms.    
"You're gonna have to do better than that," Burner's optics were burning, "You gotta- nnh~" the charge was getting harder to ignore, "gotta earn my respect to get those numbers outta me."

 

Oh, this one was definitely going to be trouble. Sometimes all it took was a few good spanks to put someone in the mood to cooperate. Burner... not so much. Scalpel tutted lightly and set the paddle down for a moment, bringing two fingers up to stroke them slowly over Burner's panels. "Hm. I'd almost think you were enjoying this punishment, as hot as you're getting. I wonder; would it be more of a punishment to tie you up and, hm, make you  _ wait _ ?" she asked softly, still palming Burner's panels, stroking teasingly along the seams and plucking at the latches hidden underneath. She could flip those latches and open those panels, if she wanted, expose Burner's valve to her stroking fingertips. But she didn't. In fact, she pressed her fingertips firmly against the latches, locking them in place, keeping them from opening. "I think we're going to have to add something to here. And we're going to have to make sure you can't open your panels while I'm spanking you. Don't want to hit your little valve."    
Trapping the latches shut, she reached over to the crate again, removing a small case, and pulled several tiny, thin clips from it. With a few deft motions, the clips slid under the edges of Burner's armor and locked the latches shut, meaning she wouldn't be able to open her panels. A firm smack of her servo to Burner's valve cover, then Scalpel leaned down, gripping Burner by the scruff to turn the other femme's helm so they could lock optics, her voice a soft near-purr with a hint of warning in it.    
.

"Now, pet. Since this is your first time with me, I'll be merciful about those clamps. Here's what we're going to do; I'm going to keep spanking you, and I am not going to stop until you promise me that you'll count, or just start counting. You are going to count ten strikes. After that... since you're still being naughty, I'll take those clamps off, but I'm going to do it only so I can spank your  _ valve _ . Probably with a different toy. I'll decide based on how soon you start cooperating just how sore I want to make you. But, let me be clear- I am not going to let you open your panels, nor am I going to so much as touch them, until you count that ten for me."    
.   
With that, she moved one servo back to Burner's lower back to keep her relatively still, picked up the paddle again, and set to work. A hard, relatively fast pace, shifting occasionally so it would be difficult for Burner to predict exactly when each spank was going to land, mostly to her aft but with the occasional quick motion that brought the padded side of the paddle, hard, against the back of one of her thighs.

 

"Augh," Burner spat into the sheets, her optics narrowed in a defiant glare, still with a flicker of a smirk on her lips. _smack_ Her blush got stronger. _smack_ Frustration began to build. _smack smack_ "Fuck you," she growled breathily, digging her fingers into the sheets. Her patience wasn't good to begin with and holding out was seeming less and less viable. _smack_ She sighed through gritted teeth, she realized she'd have to give to get anything more and her valve was _aching._ _smack_ "...one," her voice was low, her optics containing only slightly less of the defiant fire from before. _smack_ She growled again, a mixture of frustration and arousal. _smack_ "Two... and three."  
By the time she got to five, she could feel lube pooling behind her valve hatch. Around eight she quivered slightly in anticipation. She spat out "ten" rather breathlessly and leaned back a bit. She could feel the aftershocks of the paddling already beginning to leave their aching mark on her legs. Her backwards glance was almost a glare, if not for her wild optics. It was somewhat of a challenge, a silent "now what."

  
  


" _ There _ we go,  _ good _ girl," Scalpel crooned, pouring  _ arousal/approval/reassurance _ into her field, and put the paddle aside to firmly pet the back of Burner's helm. "You're making things so much harder on yourself than they need to be. This is a start. Now... let's see you," she purred, running her servo down to remove the insidious little clamps, and immediately began to pet at Burner's valve when it was revealed. "My. You are  _ wet _ , aren't you? And this little node" a quick pinch "Is just throbbing. I'm surprised you lasted this long. But- don't think I didn't hear your little comment. This isn't over yet. I told you to be respectful~" she almost sang, optics glinting an odd sort of mischief-warning, and gave Burner's node another light pinch before taking her servos away.    
.

This time, she pulled three things out of the box; a set of two smallish vibes on straps, which she fastened around Burner's thighs, and a tiny, flat device that didn't look like much of anything until she magnetized it over Burner's node. With three quick flicks of switches, all three devices buzzed to life- the bullet vibes revving up teasingly high against Burner's inner thighs, and the little node vibe staying much softer, an insidious, teasing, fluctuating hum that provided stimulation without ever offering room to build enough charge for an overload. Purring, Scalpel leaned down to whisper in Burner's audials, that almost-threatening voice again, and gave her valve another soft little spank. "I am going to spank you, and those are going to stay like that, until you apologize and say 'please'. As soon as you do, you get all the attention your greedy little valve wants. I should warn you not to be rude any more, or I may have to extend your punishment. And, let me warn you... you are not going to overload until you beg me. I'm not even going to make you bed for anything in particular- just a 'please'. With meaning."    
.   
With that, she brought her servo down against Burner's exposed valve, hard enough to almost hurt. Then again, and again, optics narrowed in focus. She was going to feel Burner's charge, keep an optic on it- if it rose enough for her to nearly overload, Scalpel would stop, leaving only those teasing vibes, until it lowered again. This was probably the most effective punishment she could muster against Burner, wasn't it? Denial of what she wanted most.

 

Burner hummed. She had things she wanted to say but bit her glossa instead. Another steamy vent accompanied a frown. "I..." she paused to let a small wave of pleasure wash over her only to be cut short again by Scalpel pulling back, "I'm s-sorry for saying fff-" there Scalpel went again Primus she was so close, "sssaying fuck you." Her voice had lost its recalcitrant edge but she took small satisfaction in saying the phrase again. She wanted to imagine Scalpel's face when the dom finally overloaded-she'd show her just how good she could be. But her thoughts were scattered each time Scalpel spanked her valve.    
Burner let out somewhat of a gasping laugh as once again her charge leeched away, "L-let me overload and I'll make it- make it up to you... m'am." She added the last word almost as an afterthought, stroke her ego a little bit before she was allowed to stroke anything else.

 

"Oh,  _ there _ we go,  _ good _ girl," Scalpel crooned, pouring  _ arousal/approval/pleasure _ into her field, and with a swift motion plucked the insidious little vibe from Burner's node. Turning the teasers on her thighs up a couple notches, she stroked firmly over Burner's valve, lingering against her node, then plunged two fingers deep into Burner and scissored them. "I'll take that as a plea. Now-" she crooned, putting a commanding, approving tone into her voice, "-lovely one, overload for me."    
Not wanting to oversensitize Burner, she turned the vibes off as her new pet overloaded, then stroked up Burner's back until she began to settle. "Good girl. That's what I wanted from you, beauty, just this. Now... you said you'd make it up to me. What would you like to do, then? What are you going to offer me? Spike, valve, aft, or mouth? I will quite happily take any of those, or any combination, so... let's see you," she purred, gently turning Burner slightly to the side to look down at her face. "You see how things go when you behave yourself for me? For now, just... breathe for me, make sure you're all right, then tell me what you'd like to do. Or you could let me choose. I promise it'll be something you'll enjoy, beauty."

Burner was shaking slightly, fans working overtime to ease down from the overload. Her face was pressed into the blankets in between her servos. At last she sighed and collected herself again. She shimmied over onto her back and looked Scalpel in the face, her own still very much flushed. "Dealer's choice," she said, finding her smoldering smirk from before, "I have much to offer this evening, though tonight's special is..." here she flourished a bit with her servos before pinning a finger on both ends of her mouth to reveal a surprisingly long glossa. Towards the tip was what was clearly an amateur-done piercing- a small, rounded stud. There was some odd scarring around it but the discerning optic could tell it was clean and healed -not properly, but well enough to pose no health risk.    
She seemed slightly more in her element as she slid her glossa back into her mouth and put a servo on her chassis, "Allow me... to serve you." Internally she had very little idea of what she was doing, feeling rather than thinking her next move. She was rather good at  _ looking _ confident, though, optics half-lidded, field beaming desire over any tells of her slight question. She couldn't get the mental image of Scalpel quivering in pleasure out of her head. Whatever happened between now and then would be in service of that goal. "So, what'll it be, pick your poison, madame," she purred.

 

Tempting as that image was, Burner couldn't possibly expect to show something like those scars to a medic and expect them to be ignored, could she? Scalpel's optics narrowed a fraction, and she gripped Burner's chin in one servo, two fingers of the other sliding between her lips to capture that pierced glossa-tip for closer examination. "Well. Someone's been foolish with their piercing choices. What- did you do this yourself? Hmph. Well. It's not  _ infected _ , at least. Serviceable," she declared, releasing Burner's glossa, then pressed lightly at either corner of Burner's lips to coax her mouth open. Not bothering to disguise the smouldering arousal in her optics and field, she stroked a fingertip carefully along Burner's glossa, enjoying the slide and the heat, then leaned in for a quick, nipping kiss before pulling back. Had to get something else out of that box- but this time, something fun.    
.

"I could almost have been a speedster, you know," she commented, almost conversationally, stretching out one leg and flexing her claws in the air. "Frametype makes for a lot of leg strength. And I want to introduce you to that, all right? I have some nice strap-ons in here, and I want to fuck you with one. I want to put you over the edge of this berth, on your knees, put my spike in your aft port and a toy in your valve, and fuck you until you scream yourself hoarse. But... you're going to need a warmup first. So... you get to be the first to try this new toy out," she purred, drawing something from the box, and showed it to Burner.    
.

It was two false spikes coming from the same base, one relatively small but a fairly typical size, the other narrow and barely thicker than one finger, with a sort of spiraling pattern up their otherwise unremarkable black surfaces. Attached to the base was a thin tube, which was fastened into a small reservoir full of what was probably artificial lubricant. "This vibrates, nice and gentle, pumps you full of lube every time I hit a button on this remote, and expands. Get you all prepped to take a good pounding. Shouldn't work you up enough that you can't do a good job on me- not with that overload you just had. So-here's what we're going to do," she declared, lightly squeezing the reservoir to coax a few drops of lube out of the tip of each spike, and handed it to Burner. "You are going to fit that into yourself. I got straps to hold it in place if you need. Once it's in, you are going to lick me out- I'll be nice and let you choose if you want me to ride your face or if you want to get comfortable between my thighs while I recline. After I get a good overload, I am going to take that toy out and fuck you. And then... if you still have any energy, mm, I'm thinking we'll try sounding? So. Get that into yourself and choose your position. I'll just... watch."    
.

With that, she leaned back slightly and retracted her panels, revealing her equipment. Her spike was relatively simple, a nice light silver with a sort of 'fishbone' pattern in black, the black patterns slightly raised. Her valve, as well- that same pretty silver with a tracery of black and, minorly unusual, a solid black external node. About all that was terribly remarkable was the scar to one side of her valve entrance, a relatively light but distinct mark, a long, thin scar as if someone had struck at her with a knife. Someone probably  _ had _ \- on closer inspection, there were similar scars all up her inner thigh on that leg, and a few marks along her pelvic plating and belly. Evidently she'd been in one Pit of a fight. She wasn't fully aroused yet, but well enough for her spike to extend, and her valve had a slight glint of moisture to it as she began to leisurely stroke around the rim. "I'll let you try an' figure out what I like. Two things- don' pay that scar any special attention, an' do not nip me," she requested softly, lightly rubbing her node between two fingertips, and bit her lip between sharp fangs as she eyed Burner. "Go on now. Be pretty."

 

"Leave it all to me," Burner crooned, surveying the banquet Scalpel had laid out for her for a moment before leaning back toy in servo. Slowly, gracefully, careful not to hit anything, she raised a leg far above her head, holding it in place by grabbing her pede with her other servo, valve in full view. She was much more flexible than someone with an obvious four-wheeler alt should be -evidently she'd even been practicing  _ this. _ With a cheeky wink she carefully pushed the two ends of the toy into her valve and aft. They settled easily, pushing the lube from before out to take their places. That settled, she let go of her pede and winced a little. Stretching out slightly-battered muscle cables was evidently not a particularly wise idea, but it didn't stop her show. Carefully, slowly, she brought her leg down onto the berth to crawl on all fours to Scalpel's spread legs. She recalled the medic's terms, wasn't hard to put things together -the echoes of something horrible. Not a problem, she could do gentle.    
.

Burner, just slightly too wide to fit both her shoulders between Scalpel's legs without what might be some uncomfortable stretching, went the high road. She lifted one arm to bring her servo to the outside of Scalpel's knee. A half-step forward found the tips of her fingers brushing the outside of her thigh. With her other servo she again began from the knee, teasing Scalpel's leg upward, over her shoulder, slowly dancing her fingertips down and around to rest on her outer hip.    
"Let's get started, shall we?" Burner whispered, optics flicking for a split-klik to Scalpel's.    
It began with a kiss, light, airy, at the base of Scalpel's spike. Then another slightly further up, and slightly more emphatic. She used a tiny flick of glossa on the third, which was further up still. The fourth turned into a lick that traveled all the way up to the head. She seemed to know exactly where her piercing was at all times, snaking it from side to side against the back side of Scalpel's shaft. She lifted her helm to trail the full length of her glossa up, flicking the tip against the head when it got there. "Judge me all you want but be informed about it at least," She said, sticking out her glossa again for a moment to show it off.

 

Scalpel purred quietly, half-closing her optics and baring her fangs in pleasure, then lightly set a servo on top of Burner's helm and pressed down. "Mm. Good girl. Tha's good, but... wanna save that for later. So...  _ down _ ," she ordered quietly, tapping her heel against Burner's back, and firmly stroked one of Burner's audials in silent approval when that glossa found her valve. "There we go. Good girl. You just keep your helm between my legs like a good pet... and I'll provide the treats," Scalpel crooned, palming the remote to the toy with her unoccupied servo, and switched the vibrations on. Gentle, not too strong, enough to be felt but more of a background noise than anything else. Another button sent a gush of lubricant spilling into Burner, then the toy clicked and expanded slightly, a slow, steady motion designed to stretch without any discomfort whatsoever.    
.

On close inspection, Scalpel's frame was covered in old scars. Not surprising for a field medic with such aggressive tendencies. Shrapnel marks, blade cuts, the splatter patterns of blaster shots that hadn't been close enough to land properly. Most impressively, touching her stomach would reveal a network of old, massive scars, mostly hidden under replacement surface cables, as though someone had attempted to remove her entire abdomen. Looking up at her showed similarly messy scars around the base of her lower jaw, plus a few running up her chassis, in all the places underneath plating. Plating eventually smoothed itself out, muscle cabling often settled for "functional" and scarred further than others. Clearly, she'd been in a great deal of fights, and had been far from unscathed during many of them. Not that it seemed to have left her with any problems- she didn't flinch or tense if any of them were touched, and even the scar to her valve didn't seem to cause her any pain. In fact, stroking over it made her legs twitch in what was very definitely an approving manner- though the scar itself didn't have any sensors, the area around it was packed with extra ones from where the area had been healing. Grinning, she rocked her hips leisurely up against Burner's glossa, purring, and gave her helm a gentle tug. "C'mon now. Good girl. Get that pretty glossa  _ right _ up in there, nice'n deep, lemme feel every bit of you- nnh, yeah, there ya go."

  
  


Burner smiled as she felt the vibe turn on, winglets perking up slightly. She leaned further in and began again with a light kiss to Scalpel's node. She lightly teased her valve lips with the tip of her glossa for a brief moment before plunging its full length into her valve. And again she paid special attention to where the piercing was. She could feel the slightest bit of charge as it passed over a sensor. Her glossa swirled at an uneven pace around the circumference of Scalpel's valve, taking a brief respite to tweak her node before swirling back inside.    
After a few conscious moves, Burner closed her optics- another gut choice. She couldn't see much from where her face was, so sight was useless. She tightened her grip slightly in concentration, paying special attention to the noises Scalpel made- vocalizations, vents, the steadily-increasing whirring of fans. She began to lose herself, feeling every twitch, hearing every murmur and responding in kind- backing away when needed, pressing forward when she could feel Scalpel wanting more. She would never say it out loud, it was a secret for the berthroom only, privileged information, but she took deep pride in her intuition of the frame, able to feel things before she saw them, and solve them when she could.

 

Scalpel's helm lolled back slightly and she growled, soft and deep, winglets up, optics glinting brightly in pleasure. "Nnh... oh yeah. Good,  _ good _ girl. Just like tha-at, yes,  _ good _ -nnh- girl," she groaned, legs twitching harder, one servo tightly gripping the back of Burner's helm. "Mmhn, oh,  _ good _ sweet girl. So good," she crooned, lying back to rock her hips up against Burner's mouth, and triggered the button to expand the toy a bit further.    
She wasn't the most vocal during interface, but she did growl and purr and occasionally croon praise, rocking her hips up, thighs twitching, the heel against Burner's back tapping demandingly now and then. Occasionally, she revved the vibrators inside the toy, triggered them to expand, or both, fully enjoying the knowledge that it was stretching Burner open further. And then, mm- a quick gush of conductive lubricant, initially cold but quickly warming up, sending charge zapping between nodes with every buzz of the toy.    
As overload neared, Scalpel curled up slightly, hooking both legs over her shoulders, trapping Burner's helm properly so she could grind against her new pet's mouth. Oh, this was  _ good _ . Amateur or not, that piercing was in a very clever place, and that  _ glossa _ \- nngh. Pit. That was amazing. "Nnh,  _ ah _ , Primus,  _ good _ girl- c'mon, let's feel ya deeper, push 'er in-  _ good _ . Gimme everythin' you can. Soon's I overload, you get yer reward."

 

Burner let out another hot vent as the vibe did its thing, bringing her charge up again. Sensing she was entering the final leg of her performance, she quickened her pace, swirling her glossa lavishly around Scalpel's valve. She shifted her servos slightly, moving them just slightly towards her midline in preparation for her most daring move yet. She broke her mind away from the vibe to concentrate entirely on what she could feel. With the tip of her glossa she could feel Scalpel's charge nipping at her piercing. With devastating accuracy, she brought Scalpel to the brink of overload then backed off slightly to draw out the tension. A few more times she did this at predictable intervals, edging her steadily further and further upward, like easing a kite out on a string, in absolute control until- She opened her optics again and flicked her glossa over Scalpel's node out of time. A satisfied smile spreading across her face as Scalpel overloaded, only stopping her oral waltz until the arcing charge at last dissipated.

  
  


Burner was up to something, and it was trying Scalpel's patience, but this was a  _ challenge _ . Fangs parting slightly, Scalpel panted quietly and dug her clawtips into Burner's paint, leaving a set of small marks, hips pumping roughly up against her face. She still wasn't terribly vocal, but she was panting harder, vents whirring, occasionally gasping or snarling when Burner found a particularly good spot. "Nnh _ ah _ , good girl, good  _ girl _ -" she panted, squeezing the remote to send a long gush of fluids and a powerful wave of vibrations into Burner's frame as the toys expanded further,, then gasped and arched up as she overloaded. Legs clamping tightly around Burner's frame, she trapped that pretty glossa against her valve for a moment longer, then relaxed and pushed herself up to get a look down at Burner with her face covered in lubricants.    
.   
After a moment, she relaxed her leg-hold on Burner's helm, stroking lightly at one of her audials instead as she turned the vibrations down to a background level again. "Good girl. Now- you lick my thighs nice'n clean while I get ready for you," she purred, lifting a bundle of straps out of the box, and leisurely began to put on the harness. Something like a strap-on harness, around her hips and then down around her thighs, custom-made to fit her armor shape. It wasn't the sort of thing one would see on someone who wanted to, say, functionally replace their spike with something significantly different in size for another partner. The fastener for the toy was set just below the base of her spike, making this perfect for the sort of double penetration she had in mind. "Mmh- you do a real good job an' I'll let you pick the toy I fuck ya with. Lick me nice'n clean, then get yer knees on the floor, press y' chassis to the berth, and spread y' legs for me. There's a pad under th' berth, pull it out an' get yer knees on that so I don't hurt ya any. Not gonna be gentle with ya n'less ya want, an' I don't figure you want."

 

Patiently, dutifully, Burner ran her glossa up Scalpel's thighs, as much for cleaning up her mess as for feeling Scalpel's reaction to the sensation. The sound of the metal piercing skittering along plating peppered the room. She let out a breathy laugh as she finished up, still flushed from a heady mixture of excitement and arousal. She sat up on her knees, swaying slightly backward to reacclimatize to being upright again. Her face was splattered with lube and her optics glowed rosily.    
"With the utmost respect, m'am, I want you to frag my brains out," Burner said through a self-satisfied smile, drawing a thumb across her cheeks to try to clean off some of the goo. She took a moment to collect herself before leaning off the berth. Her balance faltered slightly, making her kneel somewhat of a fall. She supposed she'd be more disappointed with her lack of grace had she not thoroughly proven herself before. As she leaned over to pull out the pad from underneath the berth, she arched her back, sticking out her aft, still not willing to pass up a chance to show off. "You got any fancy knobby spikes in that box of yours?" she said, shifting her weight onto the cushion in preparation.

 

Scalpel purred a surprisingly deep, growling noise the whole time, firmly rubbing Burner's audial fins in a reward, and watched with that near-predatory look back in her optics as Burner failed to be graceful. Perfect. Exactly what she'd gone for. "Heh. You make a good picture like that, pet- on y' knees, stuffed full of lube and silicone, waitin' for my spike. Just stay there, good girl," she ordered, leisurely pulling the box over, and sorted through the contents for a moment before pulling out two ideas. A thick, heavily studded spike with a small knot about halfway up its length, not quite long enough to hit deep nodes but certainly wide enough for plenty of stimulation, and a longer, thinner toy with slightly less texture but an impressive-looking node prong at its base. Both were larger than Burner's spike, a good stretch for her, but nothing unreasonable for her to take- especially with the toy having been buzzing away inside her.    
Grinning, Scalpel set both toys in front of Burner, then slid off the berth, stepped around behind her, and pulled the toys out. A gush of lube flooded out after the toys, and Scalpel purred softly, grinding her spike lightly against Burner's probably-sore thigh. "You take a good look at those two. Touch all ya want. Figure out which one you want in yer pretty li'l valve. They'll fit- I ain't gonna hurt ya. But... you are far too tempting to resist. So- I am gonna get my spike all slicked up so's it'll fit nice'n easy in yer aft. See if you can focus," she declared, with a light spank to Burner's aft, and hilted herself in Burner's valve. The toy had already expanded itself past the size of Scalpel's spike, so it wasn't exactly a stretch, but she wasn't looking for that- just the nice, slick, conductive slide, a tease and a warmup more than anything else. "Nnh, oh yeah- good girl, tha's nice. Can't wait to try out yer aft- better hurry up an' pick a toy. Bet you want somethin' nice'n thick in yer slick li'l valve."

 

Burner bit her lip as Scalpel slid inside her, humming low. It was tough to pick a toy when she was perfectly content with what Scalpel was doing now, "You're being very" a pause, punctuated by a hot vent, "distracting. Mmmmakes it hard to choose." She played for a bit, leaning her hips back into Scalpel's. At the same time she ran a finger over the two shafts, testing out the textures a bit before settling on a choice. She picked up the thicker one and passed it back to the medic, glancing back briefly to get a look at her face. Burner met Scalpel's optics with a grin then turned back to the berth, getting a good grip on the blankets and arching her back inward, plating ruffling a little. "   
You gonna let me touch myself this time or am I still being punished?" she sang, reaching a servo down to trail her twitching fingers down her inner thigh. Her spike hung loose now, pressurized enough to make it difficult for her to ignore. It was altogether too long since it had any love, she felt. Not wanting to give in before Scalpel saw fit (after all, some rules are challenges instead of boundaries), she opted for petting her inner thigh, following the lube trail as it dripped down her leg.

 

"You're being as good as I can expect for a pet with no training," Scalpel hummed, lightly petting Burner's back, and pulled out in order to fasten the toy into place. "You may touch yourself, but leave your valve to me. Now- relax. This is going to be something of a tight fit," she warned, fixing the toy firmly in place on the harness just below her own spike, the hollow in its base over her node. It would rub there without pressing or trapping, giving just the amount of friction that she wanted, and Scalpel purred in anticipation as she rubbed the toy against Burner's valve lips.    
When she thrust this time, it was much slower, moving carefully, partly to get the angle right and partly to watch for any discomfort. Her spike in Burner's aft port, the toy in that pretty, tight valve, a long, slow, firm thrust that hilted both her own spike and the toy. A long, pleasured groan slipped between her fangs, and she tightened her grip slightly on Burner's hips, then rocked her own hips in a slow, easy grinding motion before beginning to thrust a bit quicker. "Nnh,  _ oh _ , your aft feels  _ good _ around my spike, pretty pet. What d'you think of having -nnh- both holes stuffed full, hm? You like it? Tell me how you feel, lovely girl."

 

Burner was silent for a bit, closing her optics to focus on the feeling. She wouldn't admit she'd never had both holes stuffed before, no, that'd bring her down. There was a lot to process, a whole spread of sensations, almost overwhelming, almost. Words didn't seem to want to come to her, any time she thought of something to say she discarded it. Her words would be perfect or nonexistent. She began to grind backward into Scalpel's thrusts, trying her best to anticipate the rhythm. With her servo now sanctioned to do its deed she trailed a finger down the underside of her spike, savoring its twitch in response. She could feel her fans kick up before she heard them. A sustained, growly hum escaped from her mouth. She wrapped her servo around her own spike and began to stroke it. "Yessss... feels good," she said at last through a deep laugh.

 

"Excellent," Scalpel crooned, rocking her hips in a slightly harder thrust, starting to move away from feeling the situation out and towards a proper fucking. "And you feel, nnh... nice and tight and  _ hot _ around my spike, a perfect fit- just like you were made for me. Now- brace yourself, pet. You feel ready enough to take a good pounding."    
Sliding a servo up to grip the back of Burner's neck as if scruffing the other femme, Scalpel pulled out until the tip of her spike was nearly out of Burner's aft port, then thrust back in- hard. Gripping Burner's hips to pull her back into every thrust, Scalpel set a quick, rough pace, leaning over her partner's frame, pounding into valve and port and reveling in the slick, wet sounds. Panting already and  _ growling _ between her fangs, she hissed "let me hear you moan" down at her relatively well-behaved little pet, leaning over Burner's frame to get the right angle. She was well aware that her hip plating was striking against Burner's aft, probably activating already-on-edge sensors, but her prior partners had always responded very well indeed to that sensation. Vents roaring, she took a quick nip at one of Burner's winglets, then a firmer bite, careful not to dig her teeth in enough to really hurt. Just enough to feel it, to claim, as much as the scratch marks from her bared claws were sure to stake her claim. She'd polish it all out if Burner wanted, but for now, some part of her thrilled at visibly marking her territory on the formerly-defiant pet now bent over just for her.

_ Wouldn't have to ask for it _ Burner thought through a low moan, punctuated with a staccato huff every time Scalpel's spike sunk into her aft. At the feeling of the medic's bite she abruptly arched her back, her plating rippling in response. Burner's spike jumped up in her servo and she felt a rush of charge flood her frame. She tightened her grip on the berth and let out a hot vent, which floated up around Scalpel's chassis, spangling the plating with condensation. Her moans were louder now, higher pitched. She let go of her spike, letting it bounce to Scalpel's rhythm. She would  _ not _ be the first to overload, not this time.    
With her servo free Burner reached up over her shoulder, slowly, fingers extended, trying to find where Scalpel began. Eventually she found a piece of shoulder plating which she followed with the tips of her fingers to the side of Scalpel's helm. She hooked a finger under some plating, pulling her head down to where it had been before, "More," she moaned, a demanding plea. Her optics closed as she again began to focus on Scalpel's movements. With her other fingers pressed against the side of Scalpel's face, she could feel the precursors of her momentum, her charge, her excitement. She arched her back outward, undulating, serpentine.

 

Scalpel growled warningly at being pulled down, giving Burner's winglet a much sharper nip, then loosened her bite slightly and gave her helm a light little shake. Another claiming bite, and another, leaving an array of prick-marks all along Burner's winglet. Definitely going to be visible if no one did anything about it.    
More, hm? She could do more. Gripping Burner's hips tightly in both servos, she arched her back, braced her pedes, and set a brisk, rough pace, pulling Burner into each thrust to make sure she hilted both her spike and the toy every time. "Nnh,  _ good pet _ ," she growled, then nipped Burner's other winglet, near the base, and held tight.   
Burner was a challenging pet, but Scalpel was in this for her own enjoyment, not just to fight said challenge. Therefore, as she felt overload building, she only held back long enough to prolong her own enjoyment. When her charge built high enough that overload neared, she went with it, thrusting harder into Burner's valve for the last few strokes. Claws digging into Burner's hips, she pulled the femme into her last thrust and held her there, biting hard on the base of one winglet as her hips bucked in overload. Transfluid gushed into Burner's port and lubricant dripped down her thighs from the stimulation of the toy rubbing against her node, and Scalpel, purring, slumped against Burner's back with a servo already sliding down to tease at her spike.

 

Burners legs were shaking. There was a vacuum of movement left by Scalpel's sudden stillness that her frame was coaxed to fill. She was panting hard, frame hot to the touch. A long strand of drool paraded from her open mouth whose corners twitched upward into the slightest smile. Each breath came out a desperate groan. Optics still closed, she dropped her servo from Scalpel's helm to her own spike, lacing her fingers through the other's as she finished herself off in a few quick strokes. The overload ran through her frame in violent waves. She let out a bleating moan as her frame jerked upwards into Scalpel's chassis. Lube gushed out of her valve from the modicum of space the toy left and transfluid dappled the floor.    
As the final vestiges of charge fled from her frame, Burner let out a deep, throaty sigh. Her thighs ached, her arm was tired from holding the combined weight of her and Scalpel. She released her spike but kept her servo on Scalpel's for a moment in silent appreciation before straightening up a bit to lean her forearm on the side of the berth. Her field radiated satisfaction and a hint of pride. She was content to stay there, letting the warmth and weight of another frame permeate her own. She let out a tired, breathy laugh, "I win."

 

"Ain't a contest," Scalpel muttered, giving Burner's aft a light smack, then reached down and detached the toy from its base. When she pulled her spike out of Burner's aft, the toy stayed in her valve, and Scalpel abruptly picked Burner up in order to toss her all the way onto the berth. Climbing onto the berth as well, she slumped down on top of Burner, letting her depressurized spike rub smears of transfluid onto Burner's thigh. "Sassy li'l thing. Gonna have marks," she commented, stroking a fingertip along the fang marks on Burner's winglet. "You care? They'll heal fine, give'm a day or three, but I can paint over'm otherwise. Orr..."    
Purring softly, she gripped Burner's chin firmly in one servo, turning the other femme's helm to lock optics. "I think I wanna tie you splay-legged, servos up over yer helm, and spread that pretty spike 'round a sounding rod. Bet you'd whimper all pretty. What d'you think- I used yer mouth and filled y' valve an' aft, you wanna try y' spike bein' filled up? Splay you out for the camera, too, make sure it gets every detail. Put on a good show."


	6. Chapter 6

One of the medics had hauled out an old tabletop screen, large enough to put on a table for everyone to view, and Patches was playing surgery videos. He'd shown off a few surgeries on carriers, especially a particularly impressive one involving operating on a sparkling while it was still in its carrier's belly, and was now off into the realm of "look how blown up this person was".  
Reaver had ended up next to Bracer somehow, and was being hugged with one arm, nearly sitting on Bracer's thigh. He looked vaguely uncertain about this whole situation, but was making no effort to get away, just showing off his best dagger. A nasty-looking, slightly zigzag affair meant to do as much damage as possible to someone's body, with a little barb coming off the back of the tip to do even more damage on the way out. He'd already explained that his Order had believed in preventing violence when possible, but, if that was not possible, to be swift, brutal, and to put an end to the threat as fast as one could in order to prevent more damage. This qualified.

"You can see his!! -You know, his!" Sticks gestured emphatically at the screen, pointing a finger at a particularly hard-to-get-to part of a bot, "I don't know the name, fuck, but I only saw one of those once out in the open. I mean the fuel pump's usually pretty well-guarded in the first place, if you're seeing something behind it you're really screwed." They had their arm around Forceps, leaning very heavily on them, evidently drunk enough to lose their balance, but not enough to be sleeping. Salvo leaned in to look from their other shoulder, with an expression of horrific intrigue. He sat in Draft's lap. The bigger bot was making a point not to look at the screen, field doused with nausea and a slight twinge of something else. He occupied himself by listening in to the newcomer's conversation, doing whatever he could to take his mind off the sight in front of him.  
Spade pushed themself up from their solitary table in the corner, magnetizing a small device to their upper shoulder. They'd missed the discussion of what was going on and were curious why everyone was gathered around one table.   
Salvo noticed the movement, "Well look who decided to be social. Though maybe uhh. Not at the best time."  
Spade cocked their head before cautiously glancing at the screen. "Oh Primus. This- THIS????" they stammered, averting their optics.  
"Don't say I didn't warn ya," Salvo said, shrugging and looking back at the screen.  
The glint from Reaver's knife caught Spade's optic. They leaned an arm against the table and looked the bot over. "Looks nasty, what's it made of?" they said, their voice wavering slightly in an attempt to recover from their own squeamishness.

"Mhm! This poor thing," Patches cooed, patting the screen lightly, gesturing to the image of the bot whose innards were mostly their outtards. "It's gruesome, to be sure, but with land mines you have to make sure you get all the shrapnel out. This poor bot, we had to take everything else out to check behind it. The poor dear. We kept him sedated for a solid week so all that could heal up properly. Look at this, though- you can do this," he pointed out, gesturing to all the organs which had been moved aside, some of them set on trays but still attached. "A lot of these lines are really flexible! The fuel tank especially," he purred, sounding... oddly happy for someone watching a surgery. Then again, he'd tripped earlier and started giggling at it. Evidently he was a very happy drunk.   
Forceps was tipsy enough that they were squinting heavily at everything, but sounded fairly coherent the few times they'd spoken. "That would be the... auxiliary fuel circulator. In the event that the fuel pump is badly damaged, or the tank is completely empty and hindering the function of the pump, the auxiliary circulator kicks in to help keep the energon moving through the lines properly. Damage to it is rare and generally only occurs when everything else has been severely damaged as well, due to its location."  
"Upside of drinking with medics, fun stories. Downside, a lot of what they think is fun is gross," Bracer commented, pushing the screen slightly away from himself, and planted one arm on the table to partly block the screen with his arm. "Nobody throw up on me, please."   
Crucible looked suitably horrified, but intrigued as well, leaning in to get a better look. "Oof. Don't think I've seen most of that, ever, except on corpses. I've- I've done field surgery, but never that deep, anyone that badly hurt was way beyond anything I-I could possibly do. "   
Reaver looked vaguely disturbed as well, but kept glancing down at everything. The bot wasn't in any pain, at least- sedated, relaxed, spark pulsing evenly if a bit weakly. Minimal bleeding, and what did leak was quickly suctioned away. Clinical. Less disturbing than watching someone bleed out on a battlefield. Still, the distraction was good, and Reaver balanced the blade lightly on two fingertips per servo as he spoke to Spade. "Asteroid metals. I'm not sure it has any official name, I only know it has been changed by exposure to various interstellar energies and makes for amazing blades. Sharp, hardened, enough spring to not snap. Not quite long enough to be a primary weapon- it's meant to be an accompaniment to another weapon, used for quick strikes against a distracted or occupied opponent. You are welcome to look, but mind the edge, I keep it extremely sharp," he warned softly, stroking a fingertip up the engraved, dark purple metal streaks along its length. "This is a superficial laser treatment, for aesthetics only."

 

Spade wrapped both servos around the blade, lifting it up slightly before realizing it was a bit too heavy for them to be picking up, as sharp as it was. "I find this shape intriguing. It'd make for great darts," they said, trailing a finger along the edge, taking note of its curves, "yeah or something to pin mechs to the ground. A harpoon tip maybe? Thrown and connected to a cable of some sort." They spoke with a surprising kind of confidence given their small stature and wiry build. Their armor was angular, slightly off-white with dark grey and teal accents. "Always appreciated blades. Everybody goes for blasters instead, too bad." They shook their helm.  
"Hey Sticks!" Salvo broke Spade's train of thought with a loud shout, "Remember when you put Draft back together? Cause I do."  
"I'll never forget," Sticks said, unsteadily pointing at Draft, "You're my biggest success story."  
"Not a particularly fond memory but you know I'm grateful now." Draft said, looking away. Salvo put a servo on his shoulder.  
"Wish I'd gotten that on film," Sticks said, "I haven't done anything cool on film."  
Draft began to look a little annoyed, "Quick poll, raise of servos of who wouldn't wanna see that."  
He raised his, accompanied by Spade, Bowline, and a sheepish looking Salvo.   
Sticks frowned, "if I needed big surgery like that I'd so wanna see it after- er" they blushed, realizing that was demonstrably incorrect, "well... Yeah okay. Say-" they paused to put their now oh-so-noticed new servo on Forceps's forearm, "You... uhh happen to get that on video? Maybe someday I'd be able to watch."

"Blasters do have their purpose. Mostly in fights where your opponent has something considerably more long-range than a knife," Reaver commented, supporting the blade for Spade's inspection. "There is a certain artistry to blades that is difficult to attain in blasters, though. Harpoons, hm- intimidating and always interesting to wield, but somewhat less practical than you'd think against more than one opponent. Or against a small and agile opponent. Rather easy to dodge compared to other things."   
"Camera footage, no. Memory files, yes," Forceps hummed, curling more comfortably against Sticks, made more touch-prone by intoxication. "Do try to avoid doing anything else that requires surgery. I will film it if it does happen, though."   
Bracer blinked once or twice, looking down at all the upset, then carefully attempted to gather Draft into his lap to help with that. Given that he already had Crucible on one side of him and Reaver on the other, it didn't particularly work, but an effort was made, before said effort was interrupted by noises and lights.   
.  
Specifically, the noises and lights of a spacebridge crackling rather weakly to life in the center of the room, staying around just long enough to divulge one avian symbiote and one bleeding spymaster. Soundwave looked considerably less than pleased with the situation- mostly with the shards of shrapnel buried along his back and the energon dripping down his frame. Moving rather unsteadily and holding Laserbeak firmly in one arm to keep her relatively protected, he surveyed the room for a moment or two until he located Patches, then raised one servo slightly in an "excuse me" gesture and played a quiet recording of "assistance requested".   
"Oh, goodness, assistance definitely required," Patches squeaked, standing up, and shook the drunkenness out of his field as he activated his FIM chip. "Apologies, we've been having a bit of a party! Not to worry, I will be quite sober as soon as we get to the medbay. Can you walk at all?" he asked, as though this was perfectly normal, approaching Soundwave with both servos raised in a placating gesture.   
"Assistance required indeed," Reaver muttered, prying himself away from everything, and took his knife back to sheath it. Reaver had a vague understanding of who Soundwave was, but knew considerably less about him than most, and, by consequence, showed no reluctance whatsoever in approaching the bleeding mech. "You are definitely not all right. Here, let me- ow, okay, fair, but you do need help!" he declared, withdrawing slightly to rub the scratches on his arm from needle-sharp claws, and immediately offered his servo again. "At least lean on me before you fall over."

"What the fuck," Sticks whimpered, optics wide in a mixture of alarm and fear. They instinctively pulled closer to Forceps, unable to tear their gaze from one of the Decepticon elite just standing in the middle of the room.   
Draft stood up very slowly, his expression absolutely blank but those near him could hear the telltale springy squeaking of muscle cables pulled taught under armor plating. His field changed in an instant, giving way to a barely-subdued rage latticed with a protecting strength. He too would not take his optics off Soundwave, but not out of awe, no. This, he thought, might be the beginning of the end. His worst nightmares teased themselves in the front of his mind. To think he dared to believe he'd live amongst others in peace -no not he. He feared not pain, nor death, but if the DJD knew where he was, they would not stop at him. There was a grinding slide-click as Draft curled his servos into fists.   
Salvo startled at the sudden appearance but his attention was torn from Soundwave to Draft. Something inside him froze to see his partner like this. There was a Draft long since buried, mere inches from breaking the surface. Salvo reached out to Draft, visor brightened in fear. At the same time Bowline stood up behind him to put a servo on his shoulder. Her optic revealed nothing, but her posture belied she was preparing for a fight.

Soundwave's quick look around the room hadn't revealed any other significant threats. Quiet old miner, enthusiastic-but-friendly twins, sniper rifle (harmless without a holder) and timid medic, no problem. Reaver he was only vaguely aware of before now. Potential issue, seemed genuinely concerned. Mostly, he was focused on the mechs who were watching him with something other than concern and/or minor curiosity. And on the very large femme who could crush his spine in one servo. Helm lolling in the distinctive manner of a mech so low on energon they should not be standing, he dug his claws into Reaver's arm for support, watching the group, and ignored Patches' touches to his arm.   
"Oh, well, he was about due to show up," Forceps muttered, standing up, walking in an increasingly straight line as his FIM chip kicked in, and glanced back over his shoulder at Sticks. "Come on now- it's just Soundwave. Not one of the sadists. Excellent practice, that much shrapnel," he declared, moving around to scan Soundwave's back, speaking as if nothing was particularly unusual here. "Good evening, sir. This is my apprentice, Sticks. Kindly allow Reaver to pick you up before you pass out in front of everyone."(edited)  
Evidently the threat of looking foolish in a group did it for Soundwave, as he didn't protest when Reaver very carefully picked him up. With some difficulty, trying not to touch his back. One arm around the backs of his knees, the other servo gripping his shoulder, supporting him- for about half a second, and then Soundwave managed to get up onto Reaver's shoulder somehow. Reaver looked vaguely surprised, but went with it, turning to look over at- in particular, Draft. "Sorry, uh- who is this that you're all so worried about? I know who the DJD are, he's definitely not any of them. Looks a bit like a Sparkeater-hybrid but I don't think that's possible. Who- oh, right, Soundwave. Hi. I vaguely know who you are!" he declared, then made a rather odd noise as Soundwave, in the process of trying to get a good vantage point, inadvertently ended up with his inner thigh against Reaver's face. "...uhm. Apologies in advance for the, uh. Heat. My face does that."

"It's just Soundwave?" Sticks yelled incredulously as they got slightly more sober. Suddenly they clutched their helm, whimpering at their first hangover in ages, "fuck. I-" They looked at Soundwave. He was in pain, even for a faceless bot they could spot the tells -stiff movement, unusual stillness, the way he gripped Reaver. They couldn't- slag- there went that telltale empathetic twang in their chassis, they couldn't see someone like that -didn't matter if they were at one point one of the most dangerous mechs in the universe.   
"I'm coming," they said quietly, pushing themself up from their seat an still holding the side of their head, "Can't promise I'll be very useful until my system cycles out the high-grade but I'll do what I can."  
Salvo's servo darted out to grab Sticks's forearm. Sticks turned back to see Salvo's worried look. They glanced up at Draft, whose optics hadn't moved from the intruder, then Bowline, whose piercing gaze was now on them. Wordlessly they realized they'd all come to the same conclusion.  
"I'll do what I can," Sticks repeated, quieter this time.  
They locked optics with Salvo for a moment, nodding solemnly. The other mech released Sticks's arm, letting them clumsily trot up to Soundwave's entourage.   
.:Forceps I trust you so I'll keep you in the know:. they stopped, dawning realization that Soundwave might be able to access local comms. They glanced quickly at Soundwave to see if he wasn't looking and began to sign, Draft is wanted by the DJD. They paused, considering what they wanted to say given their limited vocabulary, Need to know he won't tell, tilting their helm slightly at the mech on Reaver's shoulder.

"Soundwave isn't terribly fond of them. Too brutal. Not his taste," Forceps shrugged, climbing Reaver with a thoroughly casual air to reach his patient, and shoved Soundwave's knee to move his thigh away from Reaver's face so Reaver could see where he was going. "Something exploded, I take it? Hold still," he ordered, rotating Soundwave's shoulder back to access a vein. Those odd elbows didn't exactly make good places for an IV.  
Reaver moved Soundwave until he could see what he was doing, then, deciding to continue being helpful despite the energon dripping onto various parts of his frame, headed for the door. "I will try my best to duck in all the required doorways, but you may need to keep an optic on the doorframes," he warned, jumping slightly when something unexpected latched onto his shoulder, then relaxed when he realized it was Laserbeak. "-ah, hello. I have your host, don't worry."   
Bracer, thoroughly tipsy but aware enough to register all the concern, pulsed quiet, happy reassurance through his field at all of them. "It's all right! I've met Soundwave. He's actually pretty nice! And he- he likes us. We're buildin' things, he likes buildin' things. Also he really likes Blackspark. And, uh, certain parts of Blackspark," he giggled, petting Salvo's back with one servo. "He has nice music and shares lots of information. We like him. You can talk to him once he's less, uh. Bleed-y."   
.  
By the time they got to the medbay, Reaver had a frankly alarming amount of energon on his frame, and he had to scrub his face with a cloth after he put Soundwave down on a berth in the private room. Alarming. What was more alarming, Soundwave didn't protest in the slightest at being put on the berth horizontally, nor did he make any effort to get out of a lying position. He was still awake, visor glowing, following the motions of anyone who came within his range of view, but he wasn't moving. That tension in his frame bled away as a strong painkiller coursed its way through his frame, at least.   
Patches set up an IV and handed the bag to Reaver, then, with a quick aside of "doesn't much like medical treatment" to Sticks, pressed a little cube of sweet energon and a straw into Soundwave's servo.   
Forceps, sitting on the berth just behind Soundwave, spoke quietly to Sticks as they began to pluck shrapnel free. "Come over here and hold that tray, may as well get a close look. No COMMs- he can feel close-range COMM signals, and no one likes knowing that they're being privately talked about. The energon is, essentially, a bribe to instincts. Works on most people calm enough to drink, but especially former Pit fighters. Soundwave, as much as I'm sure this hurts, none of it looks particularly worrying. Drink, leave that IV in even if you don't like it, and let us help."   
Soundwave made a quiet, indistinct staticky noise, reaching up to lift his visor away from his face just slightly, and slid the straw underneath. He was never one to refuse a treat, especially not when he desperately needed more energon. After a moment, he extended a datacable and draped it across his own frame, aiming the optical sensors at the bots behind him so he had a full view of the situation. Reaver was new, but that was genuine concern. Sticks? Tiny and nervous. He didn't know who this was, but didn't suspect they were a threat. The other two, he was familiar with.

 

"TALK to him?" Salvo turned to Bracer, disgusted look on his face, "I... No. Not him. Probably had a part in ordering the attack on Exolus-3 and I can't forgive him for that."   
Salvo looked irritated, plating flaring up. Draft meanwhile silently retook his seat, movements showing no sign of anger but looking significantly practiced. Salvo leaned against him, not meeting optics, not reaching out to touch, knowing exactly what Draft needed. The two seemed to calm down together. Draft closed his optics and heaved a big sigh. He in-vented as if he was going to say something, then shook his head with a sour expression. Opening his optics again, he scanned the room and huffed.   
"You think he recognized you?" Spade muttered, having taken up Reaver's seat when he left.  
"If he didn't immediately, he'd know soon enough," Draft said at last.  
Spade and Salvo were silent. There was something none of them would say aloud but were all thinking.  
.  
"R-right," Sticks said, walking closer, tray-in-servo. Their attention caught on the datacable, which moved to look at them. They still couldn't quite hide their trepidation at seeing the Decepticon spymaster in front of them. Thoughts swirled in their head, questions, concerns -well, one big concern. An idea hit them, ingratiation goes a long way to making it hard to rat someone out. A good impression could help Draft's chances- could help all of their chances. But it was too late for their Good Impression, their first impression was already made: they had been drunk, hostilely rude, and then hungover. But Forceps, they looked over to the medic, finagling a shard of something out of Soundwave's back, they didn't seem to mind him in the slightest, they were relaxed. Of course they were a Decepticon as well, probably still in good standing too. Nothing to worry about there. Sticks had a feeling if they were in any real danger Forceps would have said something -or at least they hoped. Then again Patches was also rather nonchalant about the whole thing -a more enigmatic bot than Sticks had first thought.   
The last thing Sticks wanted was to look like a coward. That at least, was probably still salvageable. They put on a sunny smile, not their biggest, they'd already lost the Good Impression, so their approach would be different. "So Soundwave, how'd you find yourself in this predicament? " they said at last, walking over to stand close to Forceps, holding out the tray for them to drop a piece of shrapnel in.

"Everybody's involved in everything," Bracer sighed, snuggling Crucible closer in lieu of holding the upset bots. "If I didn' talk t' anyone who'd done somethin', I'd never talk. Pit- I carried people 'round an' kept 'em safe who prob'ly went on t' order a lot of people dead. Y' gotta just- just separate it out. Figure out what was personal an' only be upset about that. The rest- there was a war, y'know? People were... doin' whatever they could. War's terrible. People aren't," he shrugged, squeezing Crucible a bit tighter and nuzzling into his helm. "Besides, 's fine here. There's... not so much 'Decepticons' any more. Not as a-a unit. He's kinda just... tryina build things. All quiet. Keeps givin' us old texts on stuff. Kinda like him so far."  
Soundwave didn't respond for a moment, then, deliberately moving slowly to hopefully avoid spooking the small mech, wrapped a datacable around Sticks' midsection. Holding firmly with several coils, he lifted Sticks a few inches and easily moved them around into an area that he could see with his optics instead of his cable. Mostly so he could size up this bundle of twigs. Putting Sticks back on the ground, he lifted one servo, rather unsteadily, and caught Sticks' forearm firmly between two fingertips to get a better look at their clearly-new servo. Hm.   
"Let him," Forceps sighed at the first movements, pulsing a quick wave of reassurance to Sticks. Albeit a distracted wave, they were focused on their work. "If that was an attack, he would be moving much more quickly. Soundwave doesn't play with his targets. Soundwave, stop lifting my apprentice, they're not terribly brave," they scolded quietly, setting another large shard of metal in the tray despite Sticks' new location, and pinched off the newly bleeding line to repair it. "This was, what- a fragmentation grenade? Minimal force-wave impact but a significant amount of metal shrapnel. Tell me if you feel any of this enough to mind."   
Soundwave was largely ignoring the two medics. He knew they weren't up to anything and didn't want to think about what they were doing. He'd rather focus on Sticks- timid little thing trying to make a good impression. Sort of cute. Maybe not thinking all that clearly right now if they expected a mech notorious for silence to make conversation. Definitely tipsy.

Draft sighed, letting his helm hang down, "You're right, It's- We've-" His optics met Salvo's for an instant before he looked away again, "It's never personal. We all seem to know people who know people who've hurt us."   
Salvo wrapped his arm around Draft's elbow, who met the gesture with his other servo. "It's like one big web of hurt that we're... all trapped in I guess," Salvo sighed.  
"You say the Decepticons are over?" Spade said, "Well then the DJD probably has its hands full if they're even still doing their thing."  
Bowline spoke up, "I have been told not to worry about them. If Soundwave is truly as decent as you all say, it should not be a problem."  
Here Draft spoke up, sitting up straight in his seat, "If it comes to it, I cannot guarantee I can protect everyone. But know this: I will destroy them, or as many of them as I can. I don't... I don't take the burden of their attention lightly."  
His secret out, he paused for a moment, almost regretting the subject being brought up, "I will not let people die again because of me. If you wish to eject me from the ship I understand."

.  
Sticks's plating ruffled at being picked up, and raised further at Forceps's implication. They were not a coward! They cleared their throat and frowned, "Do not pick me up, sir. I would have come around had you asked. Now-" They stopped, glancing at Forceps for a moment before continuing, "You may be here for... obvious reasons. But is there anything else you're worried about? I don't know what the Decepticon elite get up to nowadays but at least while you're here in a proper medbay with decent supplies, you might as well let us check you over, fix the more minor problems."  
They put a servo on their hip, their other holding the tray, extended in Forceps's direction. Their trepidation was gone now, their mind having gone straight into 'fuck it' territory the instant their pedes left the ground.

Crucible, who had been quiet before, gave a rather huffy giggle and grinned up at Draft with intoxication-bright optics. "You think you got a problem? Meet Tempo. He's- tiny li'l bot, has this... thing. Just about impossible to mess him up. Electrocution, poisons, nothin'. He met Tarn once, an' Tarn tried to do the... Voice thing, y'know? Tempo- Tempo played along with it, an' then stabbed him. So. Pretty sure they're gonna be more pissed at Tempo 'n at you. We've- look, there's a lotta us. We got guns. Bombs. Blackspark's stuff. Duo over there- they got bio-weapons. Also we have scanners an' decent engines, we're- we're just gonna-" he began, and made a quick skittering motion with one servo, signifying escape. "-try'n not even any of that. But- we have stuff. And you" a failed, short-sighted attempt at clapping a servo on Draft's shoulder "don' get kicked off 'cos you pissed off a bunch of sadists. Okay? Jus'... try'n be sneaky 'bout them. No needs to worry 'bout Soundwave, he doesn't- doesn't like 'em. Also he likes me. And Blackspark."   
"You- really. You oughta meet him. He's- ya don't have ta like him, he's interesting. Now- c'mere. Seriously, y' got all grim, no grim in here," Bracer scolded, and reached for Spade, who looked conveniently sized for lifting. "C'mere. Crucible's warm. It's great."   
.  
Soundwave's helm cocked slightly further to the side and he stared at Sticks, fully aware of Forceps signing "GOOD" somewhere over his shoulder, then wheezed a very soft, staticky laugh as he settled down again. Bold! They liked this one. And vaguely considered implying something thoroughly sexual as what he was "getting up to nowadays". But, no. Instead, he scrolled a series of words across his visor, tilted to account for him still lying on his side. "Appreciated. Unnecessary. Medical care largely self-handled due to lack of competent and easily available medics."   
He would have said more, if not for a combination of factors. Reaver, curious, leaned slightly further over Soundwave's frame to get a better look at him, and Patches set a firm servo on Soundwave's thigh to keep him still and pull out a lower piece of shrapnel. Either thing would have been acceptable on its own. Technically even this combination wasn't terribly objectionable- neither was a threat. But the combination, combined with the fog of energon loss and sedation, with his vulnerable position taken into account, was unnerving, and Soundwave went very, very tense, somehow flattening himself further against the berth. Just for an instant, visor flashing, claws digging into the padding, he looked like a cornered animal, and that quick flash of fright was a blatant, if quickly hidden, display of fear. Too much.

Spade squirmed a bit at being picked up, "I don't really- agh fine." They went still as they resigned themself to the cuddle pile, crawling to find a good spot near Crucible. If they were going to participate, they'd at least try to make themself comfortable.   
"You finally decided to join in, hmm?" Bowline said, inclining her helm towards Spade, "I was wondering where you had gotten to."  
"Buzz off, I was thinking," Spade spat.  
Draft spoke up at last, "He stabbed Tarn? Stabbed him? What I'd give to be him." He chuckled a bit, drawing a finger across his chin, "If I ever get the chance I'm going to rip those fuckers limb from limb."  
Salvo's visor brightened as a smile lit up his face, "And I'll be right there with you buddy, like blam blam." He stuck his arm out and made a fingergun pointed at Spade, who responded with their own rude gesture in kind.   
Draft laughed -a deep, loud, sonorous laugh that shook the table.   
"And you're sober too!" Salvo squealed, surprised look on his face as he gently elbowed his partner, "So all it takes to get you to laugh is imagining someone hurting your enemies."  
"Oh quiet-" Draft chided, nudging Salvo, "You're right though, I am too sober for this."  
.

Soundwave's reaction did not miss Sticks. They started a bit at the sudden movement, but opted to slowly reach a servo to place on top of his, giving it a weak squeeze. A part of them couldn't quite believe what they were doing, this was Soundwave they were attempting to comfort. How many people was he responsible for killing? But another part of them, the part that reached out, knew fear -knew hurt- when they saw it. They couldn't deny the empathetic twang in their chassis -they never could.  
But Soundwave seemed the proud type, not one to easily accept offers of charity, emotional or otherwise. They would offer him something else to think about then, gentle antagonization it was, "And what do you sir know about medicine? I have heard many things about you, but nothing that would indicate you've been trained to handle general practice." They realized they were being hypocritical, but what was said was said, they hoped he would roll with it. All the while they kept their servo on his, not acknowledging it, not forcing it, nonjudgmental.

"Oh yeah. He has a, um- what is it?" Bracer asked nobody in particular, making a pinching motion at thin air. "Like a really pointy stick but the pointy bit is usually inside, and it's decorative, but sometimes people use it like another leg?"   
"Sword cane," Crucible contributed from up against his flank, then went back to biting at the edge of one of Bracer's little arm-shields, his dentae leaving tiny marks in the beat-up paint. Not for any particular reason, mind you, aside from the frametype-wide tendency of forge mechs to chew on things.   
After a moment of being chewed on, Bracer pulled a large, soft-metal gear from subspace and substituted it for his arm, giving Crucible something else to gnaw at. "If you want a drink, they've got stuff- get their attention," he suggested, looking over at Duo- who were both cleaning up the energon that Soundwave had dripped onto the floor and chattering to each other as they inspected the bloodied rags. Something intriguing, evidently.  
Noticing that he had company, Crucible offered Spade a friendly smile and a quick, friendly EM pulse, electing not to outright touch without permission. "Sorry, he gets really snuggly when he's tipsy. Just, uh- enjoy it, if you don't mind too much. Hi- don't know if we officially met. I'm Crucible. Technically I'm the ship's captain. And I'm quite tipsy."   
.  
Soundwave stayed perfectly still for a moment longer, fully aware that all other activities had stopped immediately, and gradually relaxed as the exhaustion sank deeper into his frame. His servo twitched under Sticks', but he made no effort to pull it away, instead simply looking up at Sticks. Well. He wasn't going to... intentionally acknowledge that, and it was embarrassing that his momentary surge of fright had been noticed, but... this was about the best response he could have hoped for. Now... to compose himself and be as calm as he could appear. "Medical documentation: readily available from certain sources. Maintenance of own frame and symbiote's frame: vital for survival. Trustworthy medics: short supply. Servos, datacables: sufficiently nimble for majority of repairs." he explained, relaxing against the berth, datacable moving slowly to track the motions of some of the bots in the room.   
Whispering "come on now", Patches took Reaver's arm and pulled him over to the corner, giving Soundwave as much space as possible and leaving him surrounded by only Forceps and Sticks. Small mechs, less threatening.   
Forceps couldn't see what was on Soundwave's visor, only Sticks' part of the conversation. "It's unusual, but the majority of his self-tended injuries do seem to have been treated well. And I can tell you from experience that there is a shortage of good Decepticon medics. Too many were shot early on, and later recruits were mostly too violent to have learned to be medics. You should probably run a scan or two, regardless, and do monitor his pulse for me."

 

Draft turned around to look for Duo, " Hmm, they look busy"  
"Yeah hmm, someone's gotta clean that up huh," Salvo said, joining Draft in his observation. He grimaced slightly, there was something a little wrong with everyone sitting there, leaving Duo all alone to clean up. He pushed himself up over the chair and trotted over to the two bots, "You want some help with that? Three servos are better than two-or wait... six, four? Or, actually- huh, how many you got there?"  
Draft scoffed and turned back to the rest of the group, "Can't stop him I guess."  
Spade sat up a bit upon the news that they were sitting next to the captain. They leaned back to get a good look at Crucible then nodded in acknowledgement, "Spade. I-uhh, make things." Thoroughly out of their element, they opted for leaning in closer to Crucible, soaking up some of his heat into their small frame.   
.  
"tch They always go for the medics first, huh," Sticks sighed, handing the shrapnel tray off to Forceps, "Autobots and Decepticons seem to be the same in that regard. But-" here they turned to Soundwave, "Even if you've managed to get on pretty well without official medical attention, that doesn't mean you should waste the opportunity when you're in proper company."  
Sticks walked to the subspace hatch to retrieve a medical scanner. When they returned they resumed their previous position, servo on Soundwave's, and began to scan. A quiet "yes I know," when it alerted the wound in question, and they carefully pointed it, trying to avoid his back. Once finished, they placed the scanner on the nearest counter, "Nothing aside from the obvious except for some wear on the joints, any problems moving? Doesn't look too bad for now but eventually it might be worth a deep clean which you can't do on your own."   
With that they turned Soundwave's servo over to find a mostly-hidden energon line, no good for iv but enough to monitor. They frowned, "Once you finish that cube you'll probably need another. Perhaps we could just, set up a line of shots just without high-grade, make a game out of it."

 

"Hello! Less high now?" Duo giggled, each tossing a cloth to Salvo, and leaned against each other for support as they splayed all four arms apiece. "Many arms! Very many," they declared, then one promptly put the energon-stained cloth from his servo into his mouth. The other immediately elbowed him to notify him that he should not do that, of course. Partly because of the risk of who-knew-what contaminants, partly because that was very weird. "But less arm than spymaster. Much flat arm, wiggly arm," they remarked, both making wiggling motions with all four arms that did not clearly mimic Soundwave's datacables. Mostly due to the lack of joints in most places.  
"Good!" Crucible purred, kicking his internal forge up a notch or two to project more heat, optics unfocused but thoroughly happy as he looked down at Spade. "This world needs more creators. What do you make?" he asked, and, taking the leaning into his frame as permission to touch, put an arm firmly around Spade and gave him a gentle squeeze. He was very warm, heat thrumming from all his vents, but the fact that the air was moving meant it wasn't particularly stifling. Very pleasant.   
.  
"Mobility: superior," Soundwave replied, claws twitching again at the motion, servo almost trying to close around Sticks'. Even Soundwave enjoyed friendly, unthreatening contact. Particularly when drugged. "Soundwave: willing to drink without 'game'. Aware of own needs. Grateful for assistance. And fuel."  
With a quiet hum of "need to move this plating", Forceps detached a few plates from Soundwave's back and set them aside, then gestured slightly to Sticks. "Come around her for a moment. Soundwave is a particularly interesting example of multiple unusual anatomical features- the digitigrade legs, wings and arms as the same limb, unusually prominent bio-lighting, an entire frame highly tuned for sound reception, the datacables... and this," they hummed, gesturing to the partially-exposed organ, tucked behind a transparent membrane, that they'd just uncovered. It looked almost like someone's processor, but was in Soundwave's upper back, protected by all the spines. "A secondary processor. Essentially a computer, wired directly into the main processor, used entirely for consciousness-less tasks such as data filtering and memory storage. Somewhat more resistant to external contaminants than the primary processor, somewhat less protected. This membrane keeps dust and other contaminants out as well as possible. See the scarring to it, here, and here? And, ah- mostly undamaged, but a few fragments of shrapnel here. Stay particularly still, Soundwave."   
Soundwave played a quiet recording of "acknowledged", several different voices blended together to produce a mixture that couldn't be identified as any one person. Ideal for communications where any sort of connection to a specific person was undesirable.

 

Salvo caught both cloths and laughed, leaning down to help wipe up the mess, "Yeauh, got so spooked from the visitor my first instinct was to activate my FIM chip. No more drinkies." he sighed and turned the cloth over to wipe up some more, "Also, yeah, definitely not a good idea to lick these, don't know why you'd want to though, energon that's been in someone tastes nasty. Works in a pinch but damn." He shook his helm at the returning taste-memory.  
Spade sat up, wiggling out of Crucible's side-hug. Their optics glowed with a fierce kind of pride, "I just built a prototype perpetual motion machine! In the right gravity it will move forever -perfect energy conservation. Don't know how it'll scale up but I did it. Don't know what i'm gonna do after though. What happens to weapons engineers in times of peace, I don't know."  
.  
"Wish I had one of those," Sticks murmured, "I'd never forget anything ever again."  
So that's how he did it. A device that was not only mobile but intrinsic that could unconsciously be used to calculate coordinates, trajectories, decrypt messages. "It looks... unique- at least I've never seen someone with a second processor before. Though you probably don't send someone with such a specialized frame to die on a sand planet," Sticks said, reaching to put a reassuring servo on Soundwave's upper arm, "Some kind of vastly beneficial mutation? Probably terrible to try to repair."  
They shook their helm then passed behind Forceps, giving them a friendly back-pat on the way. After retrieving two energon cubes from the cabinet, they swung around to Soundwave's other side, slapping them on the table two in a row near his servo, "Alright then, let it be known I won't let you leave without draining these two as well as the first. Forceps, you need help back there?"

 

"Interesting taste!" Duo commented, going after all the little scattered droplets with two cloths each. "Personal chemosensory suites, aligned with purpose of frames. Chemical analysis and processing. Normal taste sensors reject taste of vein energon- prevents cannibalism, contraction of viruses.Our systems, no matter! Frame handles pathogens fine, also most chemicals, some toxins, many acids. No bad tastes except very bad toxins. Vein energon- has tastes, affected by diet, recent physical changes. Harder to tell off floor."   
"Really now?" Crucible asked, cocking his helm a bit too far to the side, optics wide and intrigued. "I might be too drunk to understand it, but- how? I was under the impression that it's literally impossible. Especially considering the friction of an atmosphere in the way. Energy exchange, universal laws of- of universe and all. Y' sure it's not a... really, really long-lived motion machine?"   
.  
"Sticks: planning to wrestle Soundwave?" the spymaster inquired as soon as Sticks was back in front of him, deliberately offering the tiniest hint of amusement/teasing in the first wisp of his field he'd let them feel so far. That legendary control of his field was part of what creeped people out so much about him; there was something innately, incredibly unnerving about a bot whose field you couldn't feel no matter how close you got. The fact that he offered this now was an indication of some form of trust, and, after a moment, his field unfurled slightly further. Thin wisps of comfort/intrigue/calm, albeit with a distinct "am drugged" undernote to them.  
"Beneficial, but it requires a massive amount of energy to keep it working, and significant damage to it would cause a cascade reaction that would put him unconscious and potentially kill him," Forceps provided, carefully removing the last shard of shrapnel from that area, and put the armor back. "I would appreciate help with these shards if your servos are steady enough. Leave the deep ones to me, they require careful removal, but there are... still something easily over a hundred smaller shards here. I've seen this before- fragmentation grenade. Usually used against smaller frames, won't penetrate thicker armor properly. I'd suspect this was made with you in mind, Soundwave. Clever of whoever that was. But, since this wasn't bleeding enough to put you down immediately, and a lot of these look like you've been moving with them in place... I assume it wasn't clever enough. If I had to pick a weapon to use against you, I'd be tempted to choose something like a... flashbang. You're tough, especially for your frame. Sensory overload would put you down faster than most physical attacks and is much harder to dodge. Not that I intend to fight you."  
Soundwave stayed quiet for a moment, then played a soft "touche", though he was still focused on Sticks. Forceps definitely wasn't a threat, they just had that brand of paranoia that tended to cause people to plan for everything. Still trying to find anything to focus on but the occasional tugs on shrapnel with the tips firmly rooted somewhere in his frame, he slowly raised a cable to catch Sticks' arm, coiling the tip around their forearm a few times to pull their servo down for a good inspection. "New."

Salvo looked at Duo with a lost expression on his face, "Gonna be real with you here I didn't understand most of what you just said but fuck if it doesn't sound interesting." He clapped his servo on one of the twins's shoulders in encouragement before moving to wipe up the rest of the energon. "Lemme know where you want me to put these rags, and uhh afterwards," he paused, it didn't seem the right time to ask for something, especially one-on-one, "You wanna come join us over there? Feels wrong leaving you two out."  
Spade grinned impishly, "I have my ways."  
"It is functionally perpetual, not theoretically," Bowline said, "I can smell lies."  
"And what do you know about science Bowline?" Spade retorted, smile still pasted on their face.  
"She can read you like an unprotected datapad," Draft cut in, joining in the ribbing.  
"Truth," Bowline said.  
.  
"Buddy I have thought of nothing else since you got on this ship. They absolutely would not let me wrestle you," Sticks said facetiously, they tried to wiggle their arm out of Soundwave's grip but stopped, not willing to risk the pain of whatever that cable could do, "Yes, it's new, as is the other one. Had to get a new pair after I ate the last ones for fuel," they stared Soundwave straight in his face, their own expression completely blank, but their field betraying a ping of annoyance, couldn't seem to go a day without someone asking about their servos, "I do need that back, however, so I can do a good job reverse-stabbing your back."   
They looked back to Forceps, "Actually, all things considered, it might be a bit tricky for me, you happen to have tongs back there, Forceps?"

Duo paused, glancing at each other, then shrugged and rephrased. "Things taste bad because bad for you. Not much bad for us, so not much tastes bad," they summarized, gathering up the rags, and leapt away like a couple of particularly energetic gazelles. Back behind the counter again to put the rags away, then grab a few bottles of various liquids, trot over to Salvo, circle twice around him for no visible reason, and head right over to the cuddle pile. "Hello big bots and assortment! Brought drinks. Who wants lack of soberness?"   
"That's- no, I-I mean, that's- that's really supposed to be impossible. Even the universe isn't- isn't thought to be perpetual. I really need to see that when I'm sober," Crucible declared, and looked up as the twins attempted to clamber over him. "I- oh, no, no, dears, small bot right next to me, don't step on anyone!" he scolded gently, lifting them slightly to keep them from accidentally trampling over Spade. "Everyone, meet Duo. They are very sweet but also very enthusiastic."   
Duo climbed all over Crucible's shoulders in lieu of stepping on Spade, attempting to get towards Bowline. "Hello, large miss!"   
.  
Soundwave gave the tiniest little noise that could almost have been a chuckle, releasing Sticks' arm, then twitched rather hard when Forceps touched something that was absolutely not as shallowly buried in his back as it appeared to be. It wasn't that it hurt, not enough to care about, he was too heavily drugged to feel it. But he could feel the motion, and the sensation of a solid object moving against one's innards was, to say the least, disconcerting.  
"Apologies," Forceps sighed, petting Soundwave's forearm lightly with one servo, and handed Sticks a pair of pad-tipped tweezers with the other. "You can help me with the myriad of metal splinters. After I get this deep piece out. Whatever that conversation is you're having, you seem to be making a very good impression. Continue doing that. Do something distracting. Ignore anything he tries to say about not needing it, the only people who do well with the sensation of things moving in their innards are the people who are amused by it, and Soundvawe is not one of those people. Soundwave... I do need to get this out," he sighed, parting some of the cables on Soundwave's flank, and firmly gripped the end of the long shard. "Ready?"  
Soundwave's field vanished into its eerie stillness again, but he nodded very slightly, wanting the shard out. Much as it disturbed him to be so, so very aware of the slide of a foreign object stabbed into him. He'd be still. He'd take it. He'd taken worse. Wasn't about to admit how much he didn't like- oh.  
Laserbeak, stirred from her spot in the corner (on Patches) by Soundwave's unease, flittered over to land just in front of Soundwave. Out of the way, but there, one wingtip quivering gently against his midsection. She was here! It was all fine. Yes, okay, fair, it wasn't fun, but it was fine.

Bowline inclined her helm towards Duo, "Hello you two. My lap has room if you would like to give Crucible a break." It seemed customary for large mechs on this ship to offer their frames as seating space for smaller ones regardless of familiarity, and given that she didn't mind a little extra weight, she saw no reason to do otherwise. Even sitting down on the floor, she matched or bested the height of most medium-sized mechs. She reached out a servo to the twins as way of greeting.  
Salvo walked over and leaned on Draft's shoulder, "Me and him, buddies!" He pointed at Draft, looking to Duo, "could use some booze."  
Draft grabbed Salvo's forearm and frowned, "You've got energon on your servos."  
"Uh hmm," Salvo looked down to confirm, then wiped his palm on his thigh, "Not too unusual to be frank."  
Draft huffed in response. Spade meanwhile shot a nasty look at the twins before settling closer into Crucible, "Nothing is truly impossible when you're me."  
.  
Sticks's optics flashed a little as Soundwave seemed to prepare for the worst. They shook their helm a bit to clear away the concern -or tried to, they could only do so much to try to focus. Distracting? They could be distracting. They took a moment to get the lay of the room, Patches in the corner with Reaver, the stranger, some cabinets and countertops, doable. The tweezers made an audible clack as Sticks put them on the table. Their optics first met Patches's as they signed "don't move" then set upon Forceps, "don't watch." It was time to put their fixed and rehabilitated legs to good use.   
Sticks crouched down and broke into a sprint. Within a half-klik they were over to the other side of the room, jumping high into the air to grab onto Patches's shoulder, using momentum and a bit of arm-strength to pull themself up, jumping to his other side, finding a few steps worth of purchase on bare wall so they got close enough to be within Soundwave's view to leap into open air, twice their height above the floor. For good measure they yelled a loud "HUP" as they went down, chancing a single front flip in midair.   
Sticks landed at last, far enough away from the operating table so as not to be in danger of hitting the patient, on their pedes, knees bent, arms out to both sides, holding an unsteady balance until they summarily fell over. Keeping their servos away from the floor, they stayed where they were, panting heavily with their optics closed, they could feel the impact in their ankles. .:Please tell me that worked:. they commed Forceps, unable to gather themself enough to properly vocalize.

 

Duo quite happily clambered into Bowline's lap, each taking one of her servos to inspect, and Scissors shoved his face into her palm as they both flopped down comfortably. Purring "thank you, large miss", they snuggled in close against her warm, solid frame, purring lightly in the backs of their throats. This was very comfortable! Bracer was also comfortable, but Bracer's lap was full. "Greetings. Are Duo! Scissors, Syringe. Twins," they explained, and, noting the request, began to mix something up in a pair of energon cubes. "Time to drink!"   
"Now that's impossible," Crucible declared, snuggling down against Bracer's flank, and gave Spade a slightly reproachful look. "Don't be mean. They're nice. Jus'" interrupted by a large yawn and a billowing of heat "-li'l overenthusiastic."   
.  
Where was this going? Glad for the distraction, Soundwave followed the motions the whole way, vaguely concerned that the tiny bot was about to hurt something. Nope, no injuries, and- ah! Parkour. Cute. Probably not what Forceps had in mind, but- cute. Agile little bot. Almost made Soundwave want to have a game of chase. That would... probably terrify Sticks, though.   
Aiming a wordless "why" expression at Sticks, Forceps held up the long, dagger-like shard that he'd just pulled out of Soundwave's flank, then set it aside in the shrapnel tray. "...well then. If you're done leaping about, come get those tweezers again. This hit only muscle, no significant bleeding, and that appears to be the case for most of the others. Here, start with these. And do keep an optic out for anything that looks different, I'm relatively sure that was a shiv rather than a piece of shrapnel."   
Forceps had been making good progress with the deep, concerning shards, but Soundwave's back was still peppered with the little ones, all of which needed to be pulled out so as not to continue causing damage. Moreover, plenty of them were small enough that there was no way to grasp them with fingertips without being cut.   
Laserbeak chirped her approval, then hopped slightly to turn and face Sticks again, chirping up at him in a simple binary language. Relatively common for people to understand. <"Good legs!">

 

"It is nice to meet you both," Bowline said, gently putting a servo on each bot's back.   
"Drinks!" Salvo said, throwing his arms up in the air.   
Draft with a lightning-fast servo, caught one before it smacked him in the face growling, "Hey now. Are you going to be reasonable this time?"  
Salvo turned his face to Draft's, nearly optic-level, and smiled as he pulled his arm down enough to be able to hold Draft's servo in his own, "Maybe."  
"I'll as you to contain yourself, Salvo, for my sake," Spade grumbled.  
"Too bad all the medics left," Salvo said, ignoring Spade's comment, "I was enjoying those videos-"  
"Can't relate," Spade cut him off. Salvo's smile became a tensed grimace for a moment.  
"Well we're all here, anyone got any good stories?" Salvo said, clapping his servos together.  
.  
Sticks lay still on the floor for a moment, only opening their optics again at Laserbeak's compliment. They grinned, and pushed themself back up to standing before bowing deeply with a flourish of servos, "Why thank you." A quick trip to the sink and they trotted back to Forceps, swiping the tweezers from the table with a confident gesture. They paused, their gaze pulled by the size of the shard they'd 'distracted' for, "That thing's nasty. What do you say, Soundwave, wanna see what we just pulled out of you?"   
They fully expected a no, but figured maintaining a casual atmosphere wouldn't hurt. Now, they surveyed the task in front of them. Picking a relatively-simple looking shard to start out with, they reached the tweezers over, got a grip on it, pulled it out and immediately dropped it on the table. They sighed, unsurprising, they could feel the weakness in their thumb as it twitched sporadically while gripping the small implement. They trotted over to the cabinets to grab another tray and changed technique. With quick, deft, movements they grabbed and pulled shards out before their strength could fail. Each made a satisfying tiny clink in the metal tray. Anything they couldn't pull out immediately, they skipped over. Soon enough a small section of Soundwave's back had cleared up dramatically.

 

Duo wiggled gently against Bowline's servos, warm and enthusiastic, and grinned when they heard Salvo. Pulling a few shot glasses and a little tray from subspace, they poured the contents of one cube into several shot glasses, handing the tray of them to Salvo. "Here- individual sips! Do slowly," they ordered, and handed a proper cube, complete with twisty straw, to Draft. "Tasty?"   
Crucible hummed softly and rocked slightly in place for a moment, clearly thinking, then set off on a somewhat distracted story about the time he and several other bots had decided to build the largest catapult they could. They had then proceeded to put a minibot equipped with a jet pack in said catapult. It had gone considerably better than one might expect.   
.  
Soundwave slithered a datacable around to pick up the largest shard with the graspers at the tip, reeling it back around so he could inspect the shard with his optics, and scraped a clawtip over a set of symbols. Someone had signed this bit. Cocky of the grenade maker. Stupid. If Soundwave hadn't already killed them, he could have used this to track them down. It was not wise to taunt Soundwave.   
Laserbeak, confident in the situation, transformed her wings back slightly to put them out of the way, extended her helm, skittered over Soundwave's frame on a set of little bug-like legs, and began to pluck some of the other shards from his lower back. She was slightly more mobile than most people knew, but pretended otherwise- helped disguise her true nature and make others mistake her for a drone sometimes. Always useful to not be thought of as capable of independent thought by an opponent. Right now, that took a backseat to preening her host, removing the bits of shrapnel that she could handle.   
Forceps pulsed a quick flicker of approval to Sticks, then gestured slightly to Laserbeak, avoiding her frame without permission to touch. "A symbiote. Not a drone as most think. Sapient, fully so, and largely independent of the host, albeit reliant for mental health and fuel processing. Another rare trait. What do you know of symbiote hosts, Sticks? They're not a well-known... mm, 'subspecies' isn't quite accurate, nor is 'frametype', frames of hosts are highly variable. An adaptation."

Salvo downed two shots in quick succession. Picking up the third he stopped, looked at Spade, and mimed drinking it before setting it back on the table. Spade half-frowned, shaking their head in response.   
"S'good!" Salvo cheered to Duo.   
Draft frowned slightly at the curly straw but went for it anyway, nodding in agreement. He passed his free arm around Salvo's torso and pulling him closer to his frame as he listened to Crucible's story. Salvo leaned in, wild grin slowly spreading across his face, not taking his optics off Spade, whose expression turned from interest to distaste to abject horror as the story progressed. They tore their optics off Crucible in disgust and spotted Salvo's stare.  
"Oh absolutely the fuck not," they hissed, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.  
Salvo's smile widened as he tried to hold back a laugh, "A jetpack you say? I dunno Spade it sounded pretty fun to me."  
Spade opened their mouth like they were going to say something but stopped, instead drawing a contemplative finger across their chin. Salvo cackled as they sat in silence for a bit. "Crucible you don't happen to have any spare rocket thrusters lying around, do you?" they said at last, their tone gave away the answer they wished for.  
.  
Sticks paused and straightened up, taking the free moment to stretch out their servos, which were shaking pretty heavily at this point. "Not much. I mean, I read some of Jhaxius's research on combiners way back when, but that's a whole other thing entirely from what I understood. Unnatural. This seems... much more natural though it begs the question," they turned to Laserbeak, "Did you-uhh, find each other or were you forged together?"   
Sticks stretched their arms in the air, attempting to resolve the tweak of muscle pain from being so hunched over. A few kliks and they were satisfied, servos still shaking slightly, they took up the tray and tweezers again and set to work, "Though, I dunno that might be too personal a question. I've never met a proper symbiote before, Exolus-3 was mostly full of MTOs." They gave a wry chuckle, "plenty of parasites though."

"You- you gotta understand, he- he knew how to operate the thing, y'know? And he" a quick glance over at Draft "-dunno if I was clear enough, he- that was his idea. We didn't make him do it. He wanted t' get chucked. But I am not going to let you do that without a decade worth of jetpack practice!" Crucible scolded gently, aiming a stern finger at Spade, then turned that same look and stare at Salvo. "And especially not you! There's not enough room in the ship, besides, or the materials to build a catapult that size. Or the muscle. I- mind you, this- this's construction-mech friends, big bots an' lots of 'em."   
"I'd be all for a catapult. Just not with people in it unless they can fly on their own," Bracer hummed, reaching over to pet the nearer of the twins, and leaned over enough to bump his face against one of the clear domes. "Pretty. This'n's got the... tranquilizer smoke stuff, right? With the spooky colors?"   
.  
<"He really doesn't know,"> Laserbeak chirped, pulling another shard free, and curled one of her little cables around to circle it on Soundwave's stomach. <"Came out of here.">  
"She's correct. Although I've heard mention of MTO hosts made with a symbiote or two included, and it is possible for them to adopt an orphaned symbiote, a symbiote is... almost like a child," Forceps explained, stroking Soundwave's flank for a moment as he began to tense again. "They dock either on or in the host's frame. Soundwave is external-dock, others are internal-dock, where they have a large compartment on their frame that the symbiotes fold into. The dock partially functions akin to a wrist plug, but at a much higher speed, and also enables the circulation of energon and transfer of energy. They share a sparkbond with the host stronger than anything short of a gestalt or twin bond. This is because the symbiote spark is a bud off the host's. Periodically, when stress is low and resources are high, the spark self-kindles a symbiote sparklet, without the addition of a partner like in standard sparking. There's a smaller gestation tank tucked above the primary tank, used exclusively for gestating symbiotes, entirely cut off from the outside except for when the symbiote is birthed. The relationship tends to be... somewhere between parent/child, sibling, and mentor/mentee, and symbiotes are born significantly more mature than sparklings due to having a stronger link to the carrier's frame. They can't function without a host to occasionally dock with, and the bond, unlike that of a... typical child, never fades. Most fascinating, the symbiote's frame actually varies depending on what would best suit the host! Symbiote hosts have an entire, if small, portion of the processor dedicated to subconsciously creating the perfect frame," Forceps explained, sawlets up, looking genuinely interested in this whole thing.  
"It's not well-studied, however, there was... a good deal of prejudice for quite some time. Symbiotes tend to be somewhat animalistic. Stigma against beastformers, plus a sort of strange misconception that symbiotes are living weapons. Silly. Here... put the scanner right here," they suggested, lightly resting a servo on Soundwave's flank for a moment, just above where the primary gestation tank was on most people. "The symbiote tank is very small when not in use, but you should be able to spot it. There's a channel leading down from the spark chamber to funnel the sparket when it's ready to integrate. I assume you don't mind a few scans, Soundwave? I can assure you, we will be respectful. Consider yourself an educational subject so long as you're willing."  
Soundwave shifted momentarily, then nudged Forceps away and, slowly but without any visible pain, flipped over to lay on his other side. All the shards out of the first side were gone, time to move. A moment of looking at the scanner, then he nodded once and stretched an arm over his helm, better offering his flank to scanning. May as well. They were going to get a surprise, but... a potentially relevant surprise. That tank wasn't currently inactive. It would show up as a hot spot of activity, and, depending on the focus of the scanner, they might just be able to see the outline of the curled-up little frame.

"I just... want a jetpack. My alt mode's too slow," Spade grumbled, leaning down to where they could reach on the table.  
"You think you're slow, I can't even move," Salvo said, taking another shot, "Rocket powered blaster sounds pretty sweet to me though, wonder if I can get thruster mods. Course it'd be useless in alt-mode cause I can't aim real well."  
"Salvo the flying juggernaut," Spade said, "I want to see that enough so that if you get me the parts, I will make you a jetpack for your alt mode." As if to seal the deal they slapped their servo on the table.  
Bowline looked down to what Bracer was looking at, "Interesting. Those are not just for decoration, then?"  
.  
Sticks nodded along with Forceps's explanation, "Huh, didn't know sparklings could grow without another contributor. Though-" They stopped to switch on the scanner, "random spark budding can't be good when you don't have enough resour...ces... to uhh..." They squinted at the screen, "is... is that it? Hold- hold on."   
Sticks frowned and leaned further over the table, getting the scanner closer. They fiddled with the controls a bit then put a steadying servo on Soundwave's flank, "Forceps you're not gonna believe this. There's- he's- he's got another- there's something in there!" Sticks's optics lit up as they tilted the screen towards the other medic, "I'm no Patches but that looks pretty distinct, huh? But- ah slag I hope losing so much energon isn't gonna hurt it."  
With slightly increased fervor, they handed the scanner off to Forceps, half-trotted over to the other side, picked up the energon cubes from the table and energetically slapped them once again in front of Soundwave, this time near his face, "Looks like I really can't wrestle you now, huh, drinking for two."

"Oh no," Bracer whispered, eyeing Salvo with a vaguely concerned expression, which probably would have been more concerned if he'd been more sober. "I'm- I'm pretty sure there's a reason why I've never seen any kind of flying gun. I don't think you should be a flying gun. But maybe a gun with legs? Leg gun. I've seen that! Big cannon-alt mech with jointed legs for- for moving. Skidded back a lil every time he fired. Deaf as a post."   
"Yes! Is chemical storage," Duo chirped, turning to show their backs to Bowline. "Welcome to touch! Careful, please, relative fragility, but fine for touching. Defense mechanisms in some, gases to vent out, drug others into sleep, run away while asleep. Extra energon, also, avoid hunger. Some other things. Outlets in frame and into vents. Some, poison-color- scare people away, too. Don't affect us."   
.  
"They can't, not for reproductive purposes. Symbiotes are... something akin to a separate organ system, sapient but almost like a somewhat independent part of the fr- hm."   
Leaning in slightly, Forceps inspected the scanner readout, then ran a scan with their own scanner. "Ah. For future reference, we do try to confirm pregnancies with each other before announcing it, in the event that a carrier is unaware, but... I assume you aren't unaware?" they asked, looking down at Soundwave, one servo lightly on his flank.  
Soundwave turned slightly to present his visor to the both of them, showing "Symbiote: in no distress. Soundwave: aware. Would announce presence of symbiote if symbiote required care. Sticks: welcome to run physical examination if inclined. Soundwave: feeling obliging. Likely due to sedative," he commented, transferring his straw to another cube of energon, and idly swirled it a few times before putting the end of the straw back under his visor. He was relatively comfortable, but not comfortable enough to remove his visor, not more than the little gap required to get the straw under.  
"Good. That's another vital thing to know- symbiote hosts are extraordinarily protective of their little ones, and well aware of them. At that size, the symbiote is probably developed enough for its spark to be communicating with Soundwave. Additionally, the frame prioritizes vital organs, including active reproductive organs, when starved or losing energon. See how bright this is?" Forceps asked, indicating the area on the scanner. "That means it's still functioning properly, well-fueled. Fortunately, the tank requires very little energon, even with a frame inside. And, yes- I'm not surprised the sedative has you feeling obliging. It isn't made to manipulate anyone, I'd hardly roofie you, but I'd imagine you're feeling very calm and... potentially the slightest bit high. Which, not to worry, won't harm the little one either. The symbiote will, however, be quite drugged at the moment, so is probably feeling rather sluggish and may be sleeping. The frame is likely also insensate to pain at the moment."

 

"Would be into it if I didn't already kinda-" Salvo paused and gently removed himself from Draft's embrace, "well I can do this."   
Now out in the open where everyone could see he very slowly flexed his arm outward, away from anyone. His forearm plates shifted backwards, locking his arm completely straight as his shoulder plate moved up to make room for a revolver-like cylinder and his fingers lifted backwards to lay flat along his newly-formed arm barrel. He turned slightly to show the whole thing to the crowd, making absolutely sure to keep its business end away from anything living. "So you see," here he mimed running with the barrel up, "I can run 'n gun sorta." With that he transformed his arm back at normal speed, a fluid, half-klik movement, "Sure ain't as practical as most blasters but it lets me use my shells instead. Aim's still kinda tough though."  
He sat down back in Draft's lap. The other mech welcomed him back with a warm half-hug. "Though," Salvo continued, "suppose you don't really need to aim with hollow-point energon shells. They just kinda boof." His fingers spread out in something of an explosion motion.   
"Interesting. They are pretty as well." Bowline said giving each a gentle pat on the back which ended up a light but encouraging push before lifting her helm to the table, "I, for one, would love to see Salvo fly."  
.  
Sticks nodded, "duly noted. It would be more than a shock to think one is carrying only to find out later it was some kind of..." they shuddered, "burrowing parasite." Closing their optics, they just shook for a few moments. When at last their frame was still again, they opened their optics, "Sorry, that wasn't directed at you, just- personal experience."  
Sticks shook their helm once more and retrieved their tweezers and tray, "I'm gonna set to work on this side now -servo's feeling better. Unless-" they leaned over to see Soundwave's visor, "Soundwave would you like me to take a closer look? It's not really my specialty but I'm not sure how much you know-or want to know, could try to answer questions that you've got if you think an outside perspective will help. Might be able to tell it's shape if that's something you'd like to know."

"Ha, gun," Bracer observed, helm cocked rather further than was necessary to one side, blinking languidly and wearing a bit of a foolish smile. "Always liked alts that're just... things with legs attached. I'm- imma cockpit ball with legs! An' a cannon but I don' use that. Don' wann' shoot people. Too... 's too violent. Don' wan' more violence. Too much already. Wan' hugs," he declared, and, fortunately still aware of his mass, attempted to slump against everyone nearby at once.   
"If you're determined, I... suppose that is possible," Crucible noted, now genuinely considering it, rather absentmindedly petting Spade's helm for some reason. "Though I'd really feel more comfortable if you did it in your root mode. Thrusters on a gun could- could be interesting, though. Heh. You'd- you'd get a lotta jokes about thrusters 'n shafts, though."   
Duo liked this femme. Pushing back into Bowline's servos, they squirmed around to hug one upper arm each, eyeing her chassis as if sizing her up. Which they were, evidently. Their next move was to crouch into little balls and both attempt to hug her around her chassis. It wouldn't work with one, but their combined arm lengths did the trick. Not that they had the strength to really be felt. Still cute.   
.  
"Soundwave: raised five symbiotes to date. Process: familiar. Shape: potentially interesting, but difficult to make out. Small," he explained, then shifted slightly, helm tilting, and moved a few inches back to show the slowly growing puddle of energon under his side. It didn't quite look like he was bleeding, though, it was the same color and texture as the energon in the cubes. A moment's consideration, then he took the logical route to figuring out what he already suspected- swiping a fingertip through the puddle and tasting it. Definitely unprocessed. "Soundwave: leaking."  
"So you are," Forceps muttered, nudging Soundwave onto his other side and slightly more upright, which seemed to stop the leak. "Your fuel tank is likely perforated, or opened along one of those old scars. You really do need to get that replaced when you can afford the downtime. Let me see if- ah, they've left," they observed, glancing over towards the now-empty corner. They hadn't seen Patches and Reaver leave. "-well then. Sticks, congratulations, you get to get much closer to a notorious spymaster than I suspect you ever planned, because I am going to need you to help me expose that tear in his fuel tank. Come here, get your lap under his chassis, and... let me see if you can part the cables down to his tank. He's easier than most in that aspect, lanky frame like his. Soundwave... relax."  
Soundwave, relatively relaxed and feeling at least moderately safe, didn't protest at being nudged around. Rather, he curled up slightly with the side of his chassis in Sticks' lap as ordered, and let his frame go entirely, almost alarmingly limp. He knew how fuel tank repairs worked, and this was far preferable to the cold stiffness of any mechanical spreading device. Warm servos, though still alarming to feel in one's frame, were better than what felt for all the world like a left-in weapon. And it did help that the drugs were causing something of a pleasant haze. He was still aware, but he felt... calm. Slightly dissociated from his frame, but that was all right. Everything here was all right.

Salvo downed another shot and slammed it down on the table with a loud smash, "That's exactly the point!" he yelled, "How-"   
Draft cut him off with a less-than-gentle pat to the shoulder, "Volume. Not everybody likes it."  
"Right." Salvo responded, voice at a restrained volume, though barely masking his enthusiasm, "How in Primus's name am I supposed to know that someday I could become the mother of all spike jokes and just simply ignore that thought?"  
"Could put remote controls in the thrusters?" Spade said. They started a bit at the pet out of nowhere. Their first instinct was to shy away in disgruntled anger but something- something about it was tolerable. They stayed where they were, snuggling in a bit to Crucible's chassis instead, "Cause then we could- okay listen I'm saying it's not impossible to do, and it's definitely not impossible to do... safely."  
Bowline was... surprised. She held her arms up slightly, so as not to endanger the two. It usually took much longer for mechs to warm up to her and usually even then they were not hugging her. Yet they were full of energy, a kind of sweet and tangy enthusiasm. She hoped they wouldn't be disappointed in her lack of reaction in comparison, "You are both talented huggers, I should have you know. None of my folk have quite mastered that skill yet."

"I'd bet you anything it was that big piece," Sticks said, leaning over to get a better look. They sighed, an expression of mild concern on their face, they hadn't quite stuck their servos in someone yet on the ship. Forceps's judgement of their previous experience had relegated them to being more observational than anything else, combined with the lack of serious injuries, they just hadn't gotten the chance. No matter, they knew what they were doing, they would gain Forceps's faith the way they knew best. They followed the drip of new energon to the source, fairly close to some back plating. "Going to remove some plating, don't be alarmed," they warned before they gently dislodged it and set it on the table beside them. Returning their finger to the spot, they tapped a few times, "Steel yourself Soundwave, I'm going in here."  
Sticks waited a moment for him to process, then began worming their fingers past the cables. They were careful, making sure not to move suddenly, pulling back with only enough force to shift cables out of the way. Once they were in far enough they sat upward slightly to get a better look. "Fuel tank and-" they scanned the surface, looking for holes. Finding none, they shifted their grip, pulling steadily backward until they exposed the topmost edge of the tank then reaching in with their other servo. They paused, it was warm and not entirely dry. That was new. A slight grimace clouded their expression as they pressed on, running the side of their first finger around the topmost side. "There it is," they said at last, servo deep in Soundwave's flank, "It's tough to get to but I've got a finger right next to it."

Bracer started at the loud noise, then giggled and covered his face for a moment, blushing furiously. "Uh, actually, that, uh- that might- might not be just a joke. I mean- probably not in- in alt and with the actual thrusters, funny as that'd be, it's not precise enough, but... some people got kinks. And if you had a, uh, large enough partner, that- that'd fit," he commented from between his own fingers, gesturing slightly towards Salvo's gun arm. "Some, uh, padding might be nice, though. Depending on the, uh. Dedication. To the kink."   
"Very large miss, tricky to hug," Scissors commented, both chemists wiggling gently in approval and pulsing further waves of enthusiasm, then they let go and tucked themselves into her lap again. They fit easily- despite their height, they were both very lanky, and more than happy to get close to each other. And to her! Always nice to have someone whose lap they both fit in, and they liked Bowline already. She seemed nice. "Drinks, miss? Have things with nice tingles if taste sensors" a wave in the general direction of her helm, but not too close "not so much there. Good textures, and change temperatures. Nice on throat."   
.  
Forceps stopped pulling shrapnel and instead rested both servos on Soundwave's arm, a casual point of contact, completely nonthreatening. One of the best ways to calm a patient who had some experience in being maimed by others. "Go ahead. As long as you don't wrench on anything, you can't do any harm- at worst, you simply won't find the spot," they explained by way of reassurance, both for Sticks and for Soundwave. "Gentle. The key here is to move softly... this is an inherently invasive thing to do, so you need to be as un-invasive about it as possible. You have an advantage here in your small servos. Soundwave, apologies for any lack of grace on their part- their servos are still integrating. And you are an excellent example of how to do this."  
Soundwave made a very soft noise in the back of his throat, a staticky sound almost like a growl, but didn't move or tense up. He didn't like this, no one did, but he'd had people do far worse to him than try to find a wound. He'd had people do something similar to this with full intent to wrench his fuel tank out of his frame. This? This, he could handle. It wasn't quite pleasant, but watching Sticks' expression of focus was... almost cute. There was something sweet about a new medic, and Soundwave found himself fully willing to be educational. Besides, it didn't hurt. Gentle little servos.  
Once Sticks had found the spot, Forceps slid a servo down alongside their own, coaxing their servos apart to spread the cables, enough that the glow of spilt energon was clearly visible. "Look closely. You see the texture of that area- how it shows the energon inside more than the rest, and is surrounded by those ridges? Heavy damage that never quite healed correctly, leaving a thin area. That should have been patched, but never was- it's quite an old wound. The tear is... right here. You're right, the culprit was that long piece, but it never should have punctured here. The fuel tank is highly puncture-resistant. This area is heavily weakened," they explained, as much to Soundwave as to Sticks, then nudged Sticks' servos back together as they withdrew their own. "Keep your servos there, press on that spot. Un-processed energon against the outside of the fuel tank is not necessarily harmful but is certainly something to avoid when possible. I need to prepare a patch. And let me know if he starts to tense up. He does have remarkable frame control, though- you feel that? Not many can stay this relaxed with someone's servos buried in their frame."

 

"Are you propositioning me sir?" Salvo said, tilting his helm up with an impish grin pasted on his face, "Unfortunately it's a no-can-do from me. There's a reason why I made sure to point it away from everyone. It's not like a regular blaster -no safety. And official disarmament is a real pain to do. See these?" here he lifted his arm up to show a groove in the side of his chassis which was filled with smaller cylinders stacked up all the way towards his shoulder joint, "Live rounds. Not that they look like much, they're in there real tight. If there comes a day when it is worth the hours and arm-dislocation to take them all out then maybe I could humor you -or yanno, whoever is big and likes guns in their valve."  
Salvo downed another shot, "Mighta built us fucked but they had the foresight to drill us with proper firearm safety." He paused, frowning slightly "Worst case scenario would be unimaginably messy."  
"I am unsure how my frame would respond to high-grade," Bowline admitted, "Given my size, I feel the stakes are simply too high to experiment. Perhaps I would try another time, in the company of big mechs, but not with everyone else," she tilted her helm slightly, "However, just because I will not support you directly does not mean I disapprove of your arts. On the contrary I find them quite amusing."  
.  
"Yeah I got it," Sticks said, pressing their fingers in slightly, "You're doing great Soundwave, just a bit more and we can go back to de-shrapnel-ing you." They watched Forceps for a bit, attentive for when they'd need to act again. It couldn't have been comfortable sitting there waiting, so they tool their usual approach of distraction, "Though I think my friend Bowline's got you beat in the relaxed department. I don't think I've ever seen a calmer bot. Ever. You should have seen her already actually. Huge, round, one optic? You wouldn't expect her to be so gentle for a bot her size, but she really is. Absolute control, she says."   
They smiled very slightly, somewhat lost in thought until Forceps turned around with the patch, which Sticks took and pressed against the wound, keeping their servos pinned to the spot until it seemed to want to stay. "You wanna check the adhesion on that Forceps? Probably also a good idea to look at the rest of the area while we're here, in case there are any other particularly weak spots," Sticks turned to look at Soundwave, "In case someone finds himself in another nasty explosion."

"Not- not me!" Bracer yelped, blushing further, and winced slightly as he eyed the shells. "Not. Uh. Not my thing. Just- I-I knew a couple people. And. Uh. I-I guess if someone asked, I... might not mind, but not with. Uh. That. Oof. That's. A bit much," he declared, wincing slightly, and made as if to poke the cylinders. He did not, however, dare to touch. "Don't see actual rounds much. These're pretty cool. What happens if you run out, though? D'you just... club people?"   
"Hm. No drinks? Okay. Petting!" Duo declared, stroking some relatively innocuous seams in Bowline's front, nimble fingers teasing between armor plates to look for good places to touch. "Everyone gets drinks, so, if no drinks, get nice petting. Should try drinks eventually- see if buzzed is fun. Us, too much- everything gets too loud. You... hard to tell. Thinking maybe singing?" they questioned, looking to each other, then shrugged and leaned up to nuzzle affectionately at Bowline's throat. "Dance? Something. Maybe just space-out."   
.  
"Noted as unknown factor, potential threat due to large size. Relatively low-threat if injury not a factor, unlikely to be particularly agile," Soundwave shrugged, one tiny motion with his shoulder, just running off what he'd thought at the time. After all, 'your friend looks potentially dangerous, but might not be very agile' wasn't a particularly insulting remark, now was it? Good to know about the lack of aggression, though. Especially since empuratees sometimes wound up lashing out at everything, turning their pain on the world. Sad. Dangerous in larger bots.  
Forceps carefully ran an adhesive-coated fingertip around the edges of the patch, then quickly wiped the glue away before putting their servos back to check. Hm. "This is the worst of them, as far as I am aware from my last exam. He really should have this entire tank replaced, but he's reluctant to do so- insists he's too busy. May actually be, may simply not want to undergo major surgery. No real way to tell, because Primus knows he won't tell us," they scoffed gently, and, lightly, guided Sticks' servos deeper. "Do you feel all the scarring? These wider ones are a result of impact, I suspect this... rather circular one was made by sharp impact with pointed armor on a kneecap, and the rest we can easily feel from here are stab marks. This is his original tank. He needs a replacement, which would require customization for this unique build of his, and is a relatively major surgery. Now- let's let him get back to his meal. Soundwave, you should stay as you are, so this patch is on the upside of your tank and is not under pressure. And keep drinking, your tank is hardly full," they ordered, carefully easing their servos away, and rubbed gently at that area to coax the cabling back into place.  
Soundwave huffed and (lightly) elbowed Forceps for the smart comments, shifting lightly until his cables settled, and made no move to get out of Forceps' lap. He hadn't been this close to a small bot for any reason other than battle in a very long time, and Sticks- he liked Sticks. Sort of cute. Definitely nice. Doing their best.

Salvo's grin widened, "Well, you see these?" he reached behind down and brought out one of the shell casing strings that trailed off his back, "Empty shells. When the live ones run out I reload. Though I've never really run out in the midst of things before. If it gets to the point where I gotta reload, I transform and let someone else take over. Easier to fire something with a sight than trying to aim down your own arm. Doesn't take more than a couple hits to bring someone down usually and my friends have good aim. Good for me- usually didn't have much energon to spare to fill these shells. Though that... didn't stop some people." Here he sat up a little straighter, "Built me dangerous, they did. Though I have some gripes about where they decided to put the live rounds..."  
"Wonder what happens when you reload while drunk- get some high grade in those bullets," Spade piped up from Crucible's lap.  
"I definitely tried that once- " Salvo looked upward, trying to catch a memory, "never remembered what it ended up doing, which probably means it wasn't anything out of the ordinary."  
Bowline jerked her head back very suddenly at the proximity- an instinctual response. She patted the twins on their shoulders as way of tacit forgiveness, "If I did try to sing or dance it would not be very good I assure you. There is a strong likelihood it would do nothing, I believe."  
.  
"Primus, Soundwave you really should get that replaced," Sticks said as they withdrew their servos from Soundwave's frame and set to work analyzing the remainder of the shrapnel from their vantage point, "What do you even do all the time that keeps you so busy? Plus it's not like you gotta look at the replacement. Once you recover you can just forget about it." They got a little quieter as Soundwave shifted his weight. Their field rippled for the barest moment with something before withdrawing slightly, "You know what Forceps is right don't answer that question you gotta eat. Now if I'm gonna stay here, I'll need the tweezers back. And they- ahh" They tried to reach for where they'd left them on the table but came up laughably short. They frowned, "too far away. Damn arms."

"Oo," Bracer muttered, and lightly prodded the string, gently holding it so he could look inside the shells. "That's really neat. Maybe- d'you think a medic could figure out how to make your things, uh, add-on and take-off instead of in there? Just- I-I mean they're in something, aren't they? Could take whatever that is out, maybe," he muttered, leaning in to stare at Salvo's chassis, clearly putting some serious (if drunken) thought into this problem. "I mean- they can take somebody's whole entire helm off an' put it back how it was before someone replaced their face, so that can't be that hard, 's just... bullets. No face. That's easier, right? Tho maybe they'd like you not having the bullets in at the time. Welding and such. Y'know? You'd probably... it'd be bad if those went off in there. You'd get exploded."   
Duo jerked as well, yanking away from what had evidently been a bad thing to do, and snuggled considerably lower in apology- against her stomach. "Good voice. Maybe less singing, more story-telling? Ooh. Or just sit here, be comfy. Warm!" they purred, curling up close, tucked into a silver-and-green ball in her lap. "Hey- no room in our berth for you, but- we come to yours later? For snuggling. Probably not interface? Personalities," a quick gesture up at Bowline, "maybe not so much a match for interface. Could consider?" they shrugged, looking as though the thought was vaguely interesting but not quite something they were fixated on. "Definitely snuggles. On top of you if not much room."   
.  
"Society: rebuilding. Data gathering, storage: vital. Also: establishment of new surveillance," Soundwave offered, and gave the tweezers back to Sticks with one datacable. He hadn't missed that. What was that, hm? Something to do with the replacement parts. Not the most unusual thing to have an odd response to that. "Also: major surgery ends in significant period of vulnerable state. Soundwave: eliminating threats. Cannot afford definite vulnerability."  
Forceps glanced up at the odd emotions, and spoke quietly, mostly to Soundwave. "Since you sit firmly on the wrong side of the line between inquisitiveness and snooping and will likely figure this out anyway, Sticks' servos had to be replaced due to having been damaged beyond repair. And you are not going to poke at it any further, or I am going to make you drink plain medical-grade instead of letting you have the flavors you like."   
Not the scariest threat. Forceps didn't have much else they could do, honestly, they weren't about to withhold painkillers or do anything particularly unpleasant. That was probably enough, honestly, Soundwave didn't have that "will poke at this further" feeling about him right now. People got things damaged beyond repair, after all.  
Soundwave deliberately huffed, but put aside the vague thought of looking into this further. Unlikely to be important enough to waste time on, not now. And he liked the flavored energon. Would that threat stop him if he wanted to do something? Not at all. But it was enough to tip the balance in this case. He might figure it out without any prodding, after all. Odd to have the servo replacements without anywhere else showing any signs of severe damage, not even their forearms... deliberately targeted? Perhaps torture. Not surprising.

"Well..." Salvo trailed off, "Besides the fact that I don't even know if that's possible, I don't... I don't think I'd wanna, yanno?" He shifted his position, bringing a pede up on Draft's leg then leaning back against his chassis. The bigger bot curled his arm in, embracing Salvo just a little tighter.   
"As dangerous as it is to have explosives in your chassis, it works. Don't think I could quite deal with the downtime from someone messing with my frame so much either." Salvo paused and sighed, "On top of that I'm not especially hopeful about the future. Who's to say we won't start fighting again? I want to live through that and it'd be orders of magnitude harder to do so without a reliable weapon." He leaned over to take two shots in quick succession then leaned back again and sighed, "So if that means staying this way I'll just be careful."  
"It is possible I will have another commitment tonight but I would enjoy the company regardless," Bowline said, "There is a chance they might enjoy the company too. Consider that a 'yes.'" She cocked her helm slightly, "I need no high grade to tell stories if that is something you wish from me."  
.  
"I can hear you," Sticks said, busying themself with the tiny shards they could reach, their tone was short but heavily masked by a blanket of feigned nonchalance, "Room's too quiet for sharing secrets. Plus, I told you already, I ate the old ones." Sticks's field withdrew even more but not before another ping spread through it. They weren't quite quick enough to hide what it was this time. It had the unmistakable texture of physical pain.   
Tch They shifted their seat a little, "Well, that all sounds well and good but establishing new surveillance? What are you spying on now? You ask me you should look through Decepticon databases and find places you stationed troops to tell em to stop fighting," they stopped for a moment to concentrate on removing a tricky piece, "Or at least, yanno, mobilize search parties for em. Coulda really-" they paused again, a look of dawning realization on their face as they turned to Forceps, "Wait. Is that what this ship's doing? Anyway, I imagine there are quite a few people out there still going at it because they didn't know the war stopped."

"Can you- do they come out without shooting?" Bracer asked, then, registering the upset, cocked his helm and leaned down further to bump his helm against Salvo's side. It was a bit awkward, but it worked. "Y' okay? It's fine. You're a'ight. Maybe just- just a door on there so's you can unload those when it's not time to fight? Less exploding risk is good."   
Duo trilled happily, their combined field hugging around Bowline's frame and pulsing happy-vibes, and offered her an eager purr. "Stories! Yes! Share. Always like stories."   
.  
Soundwave and Forceps both noticed that pain-twinge, but Soundwave acted first. Very decisively. Namely, he reached around with a cable, stole the tweezers, wound his cables up both of Sticks' forearms to stop their motions, and gently but firmly tugged their arms down against their frame. Away from his back. No more of that! He wasn't about to have the baby-medic hurt themself on something that wasn't vital.  
"-I'm inclined to agree," Forceps declared, moving the tweezers away, and kept working. "If your servos are getting tired, rest them. You need to be gentle with yourself so you can heal properly. Rest your servos, stretch them gently, no more working. Inspect Soundwave to your liking, perhaps, he seems disinclined to complain at the moment. I gave him some good sedatives and he's rather obliging if he likes someone and no one else is around to see. But rest, and, let me be clear-" a pause, catching their optics, sawlets raised in an authoritative manner, "you do not push yourself to the point of pain unless someone is in desperate need of life-saving assistance and you are the only one here who can provide it. You are no good to anyone if you hurt yourself, and you need to treat yourself better than that. You will not survive if you constantly cut pieces off yourself to help others. I will not let you do that. I have seen too many people die that way. And no, we are not intentionally attempting to locate Decepticons in particular."  
Patting Sticks' arm and releasing their servos, Soundwave turned his helm up slightly for their ease of reading, genuinely glad for someone to talk to who didn't already know all his plans. "Soundwave: announced end of war as thoroughly as possible. Accompanied with warning re. consequences of continued warfare, namely: extinction of remaining culture, then of species. However: announcement, warning, unlikely to cease personal battles. Small forces in isolated battles: prone to personal wars rather than cause wars. Personal wrongs: run deep. Anger, hatred: powerful forces against peace. Ship: gathering those who can be convinced to act towards peace. Some: will never. Likely to self-exterminate or self-isolate from main planet. Surveillance: vital to locate violent extremist groups, prevent further deaths of relatively calm Cybertronians when possible. Locate, plan for removal of DJD."

"Yeah I'm okay big guy," Salvo said, smiling, "Survived through some tough slag like this, figure peace's gonna be a breeze." He patted Bracer on the helm for reassurance, "And I can take em out, I think, just gotta pop my arm off first," he chuckled, "yanno, no big deal."  
Bowline was silent for a moment, thinking of what she could tell. Something happy, something lively? Her optic brightened a bit as she leaned down in anticipation, she knew what she would tell.   
"What you first must know about Exolus-3 is that its organic inhabitants are mostly insects," her voice changed drastically, taking on a virtuosic flow in pitch and emphasis drastically unlike her normal monotone speech, "For a significant part of our time together, we called one cave system home base. There were slow days- those when we had enough energon to go around and no injuries to speak of. It was then that we -all of us- began the treasured pastime of decapede racing."  
Salvo sat up abruptly at Bowline's non-monotone voice, clapping his servos together, "Yes! Story time! Tell em about Unicron!"  
"Story time indeed." Bowline said, sitting up slightly to project to the larger audience, "Decapedes are these tiny squirming insects with ten pedes. They would scuttle along the cave walls when the weather was favorable, likely because of some enjoyment of sunlight. The games began when Spade," here she looked at the bot in question, "figured out they would follow grooves in the ground. Naturally once they passed on this information, we created a racetrack. It began simple, as all things do and -as all things do- grew into a vast, complex course. The rules evolved as well. One could catch a decapede and race that one or one could breed one to race. I will leave it up to you to decide who figured that out."  
"The answer would surprise you," Salvo said, stifling a snort, "I still can't believe they put that together but I'm so glad they did."  
"What was once a fair-weather pastime became a full-time craze. Each of us raised a few. Some even got names-"  
"I'll never forget little Bolt, may he rest in peace," Salvo chimed in.  
Bowline turned to look at Salvo, optic unyielding, radiating sternness even without a field, "Bolt belonged to Sticks. Megatron, Starscream, Galvatron, Optimus, were just some of them, and then there was Unicron, Salvo's pet monster. Nobody knew quite what he did to make him so fast, but that creature could move. At the end, it attacked the other decapedes in the race. For a while those invested in the races -namely Sticks, Salvo, Spade and Burner- would routinely try to outpace Unicron. Eventually they realized he was unbeatable and races died down after that, as did most of the decapedes, who ended up as sacrifices to Unicron."  
When Bowline finished, she gestured a servo at Salvo and sat back again. The other mech simply cackled in response.  
.  
Sticks winced and looked away from Forceps's gaze, their optics bouncing from side to side in a conflicted dance. They frowned, closing their optics to quash the indignant anger that shot up inside them- Forceps was right, again, as always. The phrase 'cut off pieces of yourself' caught in their mind, digging its claws in deep before they could properly banish it. They were a fool.   
At last Sticks sighed, letting out a quiet, defeated "fine." They slumped over Soundwave's side, busying themself with massaging his muscle cables back into the right place with shaking servos as they watched the words scroll past on his visor.   
"The DJD?" Sticks bolted upright, sitting back very suddenly, then doubled over again, tensing as pain once again leaked into their field, "Destroy them. Once you find them, take Draft with you and destroy them." Their optics burned, a mixture of anger, pain, and desperation, "I would ask to come with you too if I didn't already know the answer would be no. I'm sick of those monsters lording over my friends like some kind of vicious pantheon."  
Once again they sighed, not moving from their position, their composure was already frayed from a long day, then further tested by trial, error, and judgement. It felt-it was shameful to let these emotions loose with a patient in the room, again. But here they were, again. "Forceps I need a bandage and a splint- and let me be clear I will deal with this fully. Later," their voice was low, short, lacking its normal pep. Here they shifted their seat again, slipping one of their legs out from under Soundwave's weight to reveal a trickle of energon flowing from their ankle joint.

Duo listened with clear interest the whole time, helms cocked, tucked tight and happy against Bowline's frame. When she was finished, their optics glinted and they purred, mischief gleaming in their faces and fields as they looked to each other.   
"Robot bugs?"   
"Robot bugs. Windups?"   
"Windups good, but lots of legs. Batteries?"   
"Find tiny batteries?"   
"Easy."   
Servos twitching as if itching to make something, Duo started to sit up further, grinning, then huffed and slumped back into Bowline's lap. "Later. Comfy," they declared, and looked up at Bowline from where they were snuggling into her stomach again. "Any aches? Want petting, massage? Good at rubs, lots of fingers."   
.  
Again, both other bots noticed the distress, and Soundwave -by virtue of not being occupied with delicate work- was the first to react. Carefully lifting his weight off of Sticks' frame, he reached down under the edge of the berth for the controls, feeling carefully with a datacable, and raised the head end of the berth so he could lean on that instead. Both servos around Sticks' waist, he moved the smaller bot down near his own midsection, curling slightly around the medic-to-be, and nudged and tugged determinedly until he had a grip on Sticks' leg just above their ankle. Helm lifted just enough to make his visor visible, he stroked lightly along the plating and plucked at its edges, trying to coax it out of the way to see what was wrong and what to do about that. A quick play of "I got this" up to Forceps, and, one datacable wound firmly around Sticks' upper shin to keep them from escaping, pulled a length of bandage from subspace. "DJD: best destroyed from long distance. Considering: orbital bombing, inspection for death confirmations via drone without audial sensors, body recovery after confirmation of deaths. Full group wipe, possible exception: Nickel. Medic. Loyal. Considerably less monstrous. Company: not welcome. Soundwave: must avoid detection to safely execute targets. Particularly: must avoid any contact with Tarn, Tarn's Voice."  
Forceps considered the situation for a moment, then sighed, vocalizer clicking lightly as they patted Sticks' arm and found- not the words they wanted, but words. "...go with it. He's good enough at first aid to keep himself and the symbiote in good shape. That will be tended now, you do not have a job to do at the moment. Aside from distracting my patient. Which you are doing. Breathe. Tell us both if he makes you uncomfortable, but otherwise- we have a potentially difficult patient here. You are entertaining him enough to keep him from being aware of my work. Continue doing that, it is useful. Without injuring yourself again, if you can."  
Bowline's optic glowed brightly, "If you recreate decapede racing, please be sure to announce it to everyone. I, for one, would hate to miss it and I know a few other Choir members who would participate with a passion previously unknown to all," her voice was back to its normal monotone, but did not drop its signature care, "I believe I could use your many fingers, truthfully."  
She extended her left arm palm up to show them. It was made from a great deal of segmented armor colored a dingy shade of yellow. "If I may be so selfish as to request your assistance. Patches has been installing surface sensors on my frame these past few weeks. He did this arm a couple days ago and it is just beginning to feel things properly, resulting in some rather unsettling aches. I understand these plates are fun to touch? Sticks seems to think so at least."  
.  
"At least I can be entertainment," Sticks grumbled very softly, but did not shy away from Soundwave's touch, instead leaning against the nearest-available plating, which in this case was his hip. They couldn't deny their need for contact, even when they were especially unhappy with the situation. They sat quietly and watched Soundwave's visor until he tucked the last end of bandage into a neat wrapping.   
"That seems a good way to get around the Tarn issue. Just, make sure to film it. Document it. I'm sure there are more than who I know who would want to see those bastards dead. At least if we can't participate, we'd want confirmation. As close to physical as we can get it."   
Sticks drew their leg in and wrapped their arms around their knee, leaning comfortably into Soundwave's torso, "Thank you, Soundwave. You shouldn't have had to do that. That's..." they trailed off and took a deep breath, "that's my job. I'm sorry for being so unprofessional." Their gaze traveled away. They cleared their throat before looking back again, "But, um, what I was going to say earlier, we... didn't get your communication. We had no idea the war was over. I... think it had something to do with the amount of sand on the planet, something about disrupting waves... magnetic fields... I don't know, Spade figured it out, explained it to me once. My point is we can't be the only ones to have not gotten the memo."   
Sticks sat up a bit, "There's gotta be records somewhere of where people were stationed, Autobots and Decepticons both. It would be worth checking out some spots where people are unaccounted for so they aren't fighting forever. They don't... nobody deserves that."

Duo perked up at the sight of the unusual plating, and both immediately put all four servos on her arm, stroking and touching and playing with the plating for a few moments of indulgence. Curling around her arm, they nipped and nuzzled and purred against the plating, kneading with first two servos each, then three, then all four. Long rubs and strokes and gentle, kneading pets, along the edges of the plating, fingertips dipping underneath wherever it was possible. On close inspection, both twins had an unusual degree of scarring around their upper backs and shoulders, and Syringe in particular had marks along the sides and back of his neck that looked like healed burn scars. They'd had to deal with all of this themselves, so they knew how to ease an ache. And this, well- there was a certain degree of enthusiasm born of curiosity. This was interesting!   
.  
"Soundwave: intends to retrieve physical proof of death once confirmation of all deaths is had. Spark chambers, processors: better proof of death than any footage," he explained, tucking an arm around Sticks' frame for no other reason than because they were there, servo petting ever-so-gently across Sticks' back. Comfortable.   
"That's more what we're doing. Checking everywhere we can, including places not documented to have Cybertronians present, for anyone still alive. Also, checking for support- though that is limited indeed from organic species. Understandably so," Forceps sighed, and settled a servo on Soundwave's hip as a quiet warning that they were starting on the shrapnel lower on his frame. His lower thighs, especially. Had to be careful about that. This close up, anyone could see why- claw scars on his inner thighs, punctures. A frequent issues for former Pit fighters, particularly smaller, lithe, attractive ones. 

"Heh, just carry them around with you. Make some kinda jewelry outta... them..." Sticks grimaced, "...or not. That may be too morbid even for me."   
They watched with a tired, dutiful gaze as Forceps moved, turning away as they spotted the scars. They shifted a bit closer into Soundwave's arm. Wanting to reciprocate the gesture, they looked down at their trembling servos -not especially calming, plus a chance they may seize up. They looked back up at Soundwave's helm again. Something about being held had calmed them down enough to allow a lopsided grin to creep over their face, "I don't know too much about you, Soundwave, only what Forceps and the handful of other Decepticons I knew told me. I get the impression you know a lot, and that you notice a lot, but do you notice enough to tell me what I did before I joined the war? You can probably tell from... well, everything, I wasn't a medic," their grin got a little wider, "make any guess, I won't be offended. I'll give you five questions, too, if you feel you need them. Or, I suppose, stay silent and judge me for trying to test your deduction abilities while you were high on pain meds."

<"Nah, too big. And you'd attract rats,"> Laserbeak pointed out, moving as if to hop onto Forceps' helm, but reconsidered at a glare from the medic. She generally preferred that her perches be either obliging or incapacitated.   
Soundwave could feel Sticks calming down, and it was satisfying. He'd never admit to it, but he was a symbiote host. Functionalism might have been a destructive system, but its roots made sense to some extent. Among other things, specific frametypes came with specific instincts, and his included the urge to protect smaller bots. Sticks was larger than any symbiote, up to Soundwave's knee or so, but still small and worth protecting. And he wasn't sparkless, he'd felt the distress. And he was slightly high, that helped.  
As for the challenge? He'd had to think more than this in worse situations. This was low-stakes, he could try. Besides... Sticks did have a relatively specific frametype. "Minibot. Not made for heavy lifting. Servos: significant clue. No damage to wrists, arms: indicates targeted damage. Theoretically: accidental. Suspected: intentional. Torture: often focuses on specialized, high-sensor targets. Reasonable suspicion: specialized servos. Potential: craftsmech, data entry, medics. Lack of current skill: indicates not medic. Craftsmechs: frequent built-in magnifiers around optics. Data entry and related jobs: frequent additional plugs. Next step: inspect for defining features," he explained, entirely willing to make his thought processes known. May as well distract Sticks from that... unpleasant dark cloud trying to linger. But he was still going to play this game, and he did, lightly grasping Sticks' arm with one data-cable and touching it with two fingertips to search out any possible plugs. "First question: permission to check for plugs around back of helm, or confirmation of presence or absence," he requested, not wanting to go groping at the back of someone's helm- especially not with a datacable. He could hack someone that way if he tried to. Alarming.

Sticks's optics flashed in alarm at the suggestion, "Ah, yes, confirmed! Confirmed. Please don't go back there." They instinctively jetted their arms backward to cover the back of their neck with their servos, hunching their shoulders up as the horrifying thought dawned on them that Soundwave was the archivist's worst nightmare. They relaxed their shoulders once they realized what they were doing, letting their servos fall to their lap and coughing awkwardly to let out the last of their trepidation. They weren't a coward and they wouldn't be seen like one. "You're very quick at this, Soundwave. Though I suppose you have to be when you deal with so much information and uh... sneaky people," they laughed uneasily, "Your first clue was going to be the servos. But-right. You've got four questions left- doubt you're gonna need them though at this pace."

Soundwave patted at various unobtrusive places on Sticks until they calmed down, made even more people-awkward than usual by the sedatives, and abruptly winced with his entire frame at once as Forceps did something distinctly unpleasant with a pair of tweezers and a deeply buried splinter. Ow. Adrenaline definitely worn off.   
Forceps wasn’t having that. A quick flash of a vial where he could see it, and they added a long pour of it to his still-running IV. “He’s already had a faster acting sedative meant for immediate pain relief, but it’s not terribly long-lasting. This one has to be injected slowly, or dripped into the lines, but will last much longer. Shrapnel removal is delicate enough on a patient who isn’t in pain.”  
Funnily enough, it was entirely possible to see when the drugs hit. Soundwave’s helm lolled slightly to the side and his bio-lights flickered intermittently for a moment, then he squeezed Sticks tighter, the letters on his visor moving considerably slower now. ”Data collection frame. Exact details: often possible to tell in high Functionalist society, less after extensive wear and stress from” a pause as he considered it ”sand. Possibilities: science data entry. Current data entry i.e. population tracking, taxes due, crimes. Past data entry, i.e. historian. Final: combined data entry. Librarian, archivist. Orion Pax. Second question: which?”

Sticks lightly pet Soundwave's arm until the sedatives kicked in, murmuring a quiet "it's okay" through an empathetic grimace. They sighed as they saw him calm. They didn't realize they had been so tense. "Even sedated so heavily, you're still sharp as a tack. But that's the final piece, you know I can't just give it to you," they chided, voice soft, "I'll give you a hint cause it-" they looked down, "it's impossible to see anymore. I used to have an autobrand right here," they traced a finger in a small square on their chestplate, the flattest part, closest to the base of their neck, "Lost it a long time ago and I think the welding marks have been mostly buffed off by yeah, sand. I don't even think you can feel em anymore," they drew the side of a shaking knuckle across the area, making a few passes before giving up.   
"Anyway," they continued "I don't know how much you know about the politics in the various data-jockey communities but something tells me that's just about all you need."

Politics were largely too much of a mess to focus on the specifics, save where it was relevant. Orion Pax had made many things relevant that Soundwave had never expected to study, so, yes, that told him something. The tale of Orion Pax, once one of them, now an Autobot Prime, had swayed many archivists to that side. They also tended to have a fear of change and an aversion to destruction of old things- in other words, everything the Decepticons stood for. At first, Soundwave had kept track of the vocations of every Decepticon who joined the cause- mostly workers, low-class mechs who died frequently. Data entry bots were more unusual, tending towards less defiant natures and largely happier with their jobs, but there had still been some. Many scientists, even more bots who had recorded far too many injustices. Archivists, almost never.   
Of course, it was hard to be certain, but this was relatively straightforward. Though it was a good thing for his deductive skills that he hadn’t had this new wave of sedatives at the start of the question. Soundwave huffed, a tiny, satisfied noise, and lightly tapped Sticks’ chassis with a single clawtip. ”Sticks: most likely former archivist. Now medic. Baby medic, still growing.”

"There you go!" A small smile lighted upon Sticks's face, "though, I do object to being called a baby, I'm not that small." They turned around and looked to Forceps to explain, "Once Orion became Optimus, you wouldn't believe how barren the archives got. Between him, Alpha Trion's campaigning, and good old-fashioned peer pressure, I don't know a single archivist who didn't go red in the end. Not one."   
Sticks sighed and twisted back to their original position, putting an arm around Soundwave's forearm, "Wonder what they all did- where they went. We're not exactly built for combat, yanno. Probably mostly dead now huh." They quieted down, gaze focused on nothing in particular as tendrils of melancholy clouded their expression.   
Shaking their head to clear it of its weather, they began again, "Anyway, what do you think, should we play again? I mean, you look tired but I doubt you'd be able to rest given the uhh... circumstances," they paused and turned back to Forceps, speaking quieter this time, "What's it looking like?"

“It’s looking like I’m going to be digging around in his thighs for some of these. Some of the little bastards are embedded too deeply to reach from the surface,” Forceps reported, probing at one such puncture with the tweezers. “Good thing this wasn’t lower or I might be left pulling shards from your valve, pelvic covers aren’t terribly shrapnel-proof. As it is, I’m going to have to get rather personal. Apologies. Do let me know if you get too uncomfortable,” they sighed, not really expecting to be notified, and coaxed Soundwave’s leg up until they could rest his ankle joint on their shoulder. “At least you’re a flexible one. If I have to get up this close to a patient I do prefer flexibility. Which reminds me, Sticks, sooner or later we’re going to have to teach you how to run a pelvic exam. We’ll have to find someone obliging. Maybe Bracer.”  
Best to distract Soundwave right now. He might find Sticks’ flusterment interesting.   
Soundwave did not particularly like having any part of himself poked at with tweezers, even when drugged to within an inch of consciousness. He especially did not like having anyone poking at his inner thighs. That person being a trustworthy medic helped, at least. As did the distraction of the small bot in his arms.

"B-Bracer??" Sticks shot upward, "But he's- Okay listen, he's a sweet guy, nothing against him- he's HUGE he's almost Bowline's size." They leaned forward a bit, optics wide, quickly kicking their injured leg out, "Primus, Forceps, his spike's probably half my height, I might be able to stick my whole helm up his valve. I mean I'm no coward but-" They cut themself off, covering their mouth with a still-twitching servo. But what. "Okay let me rephrase this, for someone of my size," they frowned for a moment then continued, "a case like Bracer would be excessively difficult. Not to mention what's the likelihood that I'd be the only one to be able to... administer an exam... to someone that size- they're not exactly common. Would it not be better to practice on someone of a more reasonable -er- relatively proportional size? Like Salvo, or Patches, or..." they turned to Forceps, the slightest smug 'you-started-it' look on their face, "you?"

"You've met Bracer," Forceps informed Soundwave, "he called you the prettiest assassin he's ever met and then clarified that he's only met a few assassins but that you would probably still be the prettiest if he'd met all of them. He also makes an excellent anatomy example, Sticks, including for this. Practicing on a larger mech is good for this sort of thing, it's much more comfortable for-"   
Sticks' suggestion sunk in, and Forceps' vocalizer clicked off with a muted noise of something like outrage and a glare at Sticks. They weren't as irked as they could be, though, because it was working.  
Soundwave was laughing. Silently except for quiet noises through his vents, shoulders trembling slightly, bio-lights brightening in amusement. Too drugged to be withdrawn, and clearly amused. Partly at the image of this baby-medic up to their shoulder (probably an exaggeration) in someone's valve. He'd pay to see that. Cute flustered thing.(edited)  
"...I rather think that last suggestion would end up with the both of us far too distracted to do anything," Forceps finally muttered, steadfastedly ignoring their blush as they continued their work. "Patches would be willing, I'm sure, but do you want him being sweet and giving you advice while you're doing that? Salvo- not sure what he'd think of that. Hm. I'm inclined to suggest Blackspark. I know he's willing, he's relatively close to your size, and if his bio-lighting continues to his valve it should make for a relatively easy-to-see exam. Really, the exam is the same regardless of size, anatomy varies somewhat but is largely similar. The only real difficulty is with very small bots, about your size and smaller. Lack of space to work with and all. Especially when they're timid ones. Longrange is difficult through no fault of their own. I will warn you, though- Bracer is rough on his toys. He's in here semi-regularly because the anchor of something has broken off and he can't retrieve it. You are probably going to end up in his valve sooner or later, unless Patches perfects an indestructable false spike first. It's not his fault, one can hardly blame him for enthusiasm, so we do try not to mock him. Too much. To his face. We only make fun of people who repeatedly do stupid things, not people who happen to be too strong for their own toys."

Sticks's optics brightened at Soundwave's enjoyment, they even began to laugh themself until- "Oh nooo Bracer!" a look of amused horror pinned itself on their face, "Oh no I am gonna end up in his valve aren't I. Guess I'm gonna have to prepare myself for that eventually," they groaned, "Soundwave, a word of advice from me, never be small- or at least not the smallest in the room." They shook their helm, "You're right I don't think I could take Patches's gentle coaching. Salvo might be down, but he doesn't like interface so I don't quite know what that'd mean in this context. Could probably handle Blackspark. But." they paused for dramatic effect, "Forceps, I don't think we'd have much of a problem because I," they sat up slightly,"can act."  
Clearing their throat a bit, Sticks propped themself up on one knee. They put on their biggest, fakest smile, optics wide, vacant and cheery. They pitched their voice up an octave, their tone as saccharine as possible, "Are you ready for your pelvic exam now, Forceps?" It didn't take long for them to laugh through their expression, a slight blush settling on their face. They sat back down so they wouldn't accidentally put weight on their bad ankle. There was something very confidence-inspiring about the fact they'd made the spymaster laugh, they were feeling better about their chances that someday they'd see Forceps laugh as well.

Judging by Forceps' expression, that was about the least sexy thing they'd ever seen. Which, admittedly, was the point, but still. Ouch. Muttering something that sounded like "you've distilled my least favorite parts of Patches' personality", they set yet another shard of material aside, quietly relieved to feel the stress easing out of Soundwave's frame. "...this is one thing it's best to practice on calm patients. Going into an exam of this sort while nervous just makes things worse for everyone. You have to at least fake reasonable calm."   
"Sticks: would like to borrow spare visor to hide expressions during said lessons as substitute for acting?" Soundwave asked from the berth, no longer visibly laughing but still with his bio-lights brighter than usual, then attempted to look over his shoulder at Forceps. Considering Forceps was now more or less between his legs instead of over his shoulder, it didn't work too well. "Blackspark, sparkling: doing well? Visibly due soon. Soundwave: may remain until then," he noted, settling down again, then lifted his helm once more. "Interface: still beneficial at late stage?"   
"Yes, both are healthy. And, yes. The sparkling is finalised at this point, so there will be no further genetic contributions, but the trace minerals in transfluid are still beneficial and the hormone surges are most likely welcome. He's probably going to start nesting soon. Fair warning; if you decide to interface with him about now, he may not let go for awhile. He's grown clingy. Unsurprising," Forceps hummed, having caught the gist of the typed words. "But please do not do so until you are healed somewhat. He's rather lacking in energy or mobility at the moment, carriers at this stage tend to make for rather passive and slightly demanding interface partners. Or so I'm told. He's not my taste, flattering though his earlier offer was."

"A spare visor? From one of the highest-ranking Decepticons? To me, a mech with no possessions and not a shanix to their name? How could I refuse such an offer of charity. Just don't expect it back," Sticks chuckled a bit to themself. But their edge faded into a soft warmth. They leaned into Soundwave's arm, "Did you see the scans, Soundwave? He's been showing them to everyone he can and I mean everyone. I don't think I've seen a mech so proud. Not a whole lotta people nowadays get to walk around knowing they've made something that's not for war. He's also not particularly shy about telling your contribution. Usually in the same breath as the announcement he's carrying," they shifted a little getting cozier, "At first I thought it was a status thing, but I dunno, I think he's just glad to know you. Anyway, you should be proud too."  
Sticks sat up a bit, "That being said, I'm gonna agree with Forceps here, you're fulla holes. The likelihood you'd open something up again is too high. Besides, he might even give birth before you're fully recovered."

"I suspect he's slightly proud of having successfully seduced a notorious spymaster, and probably rather proud of having acquired this particular set of genetics. He was looking for particularly intelligent or clever secondary sires- something about that being what the universe could use about now," Forceps shrugged, then, with a soft warning hum, clasped the tweezers around a thin shard that had lodged just at the edge of Soundwave's valve cover. Uncomfortably close to everything, both in terms of narrowly avoided damage and in terms of where Forceps had to touch. "I don't blame him."   
Nor would they deny that Soundwave was attractive. Not that they'd mention it with their servos here, but- yes. Lithe, graceful frame, bright bio-lights, keenly intelligent.   
Soundwave had been kidding, poking fun at Sticks' 'acting skills' and the ease of embarrassing them. But... he did have... hm. Helm cocked slightly further to the side, he reached into subspace with one datacable and withdrew a simple visor, a match to his own in shape but not quite the same tint. "Emergency coverage visor- blank. No video or projection capabilities, but sufficiently opaque. Will require retrofitting. Keep," he prompted, and nudged it into Sticks' servos, keeping ahold of it until he was sure they had a decent grip. Slippery surface. Relatively durable, but still. He had more than just this extra, after all, they were easy to craft. Why not give one to the baby-medic he definitely liked now?

"R-really??" Sticks's optics widened at the gift, bracing it against their chassis to get a closer look, "Pit, now I feel bad for joking about selling it. I- I wouldn't. Really. I won't." They shifted their grip to hold both sides, bringing it up to their face, "Though it's big isn't it- hah."They got about a klik of verticality before their fingers slipped. Quick reflexes caught the visor in the crooks of their elbows, "gotta get a better look once my servos want to cooperate but this- it's really cool. Thank you."   
Sticks smiled wide, this time it was genuine. They looked down, tracing a finger against the smooth outer surface before flipping it over with slight difficulty. The seams and parts, however few, had grabbed their attention, "Now forgive me if this is too much a tools-of-the-trade question, but this material," they pointed to the visor surface, "Is probably some sorta silica-composite. It looks like there could be some room here," tracing their finger down where the glass met a metal frame, "for projection equipment. But your everyday visor seems to have somewhat of a screen aspect to it, which would mean it's not projected. I'm just wondering if your visor has its own computer to take your commands or if it hooks into your processor somehow and you just. Control it. Through some type of projection mechanism built into your frame."

"Visor: essentially computer screen. Computer itself: Soundwave. Clearer images than projector, less bulk, no additional processing time from running data through exterior computer," Soundwave explained, quite readily, keeping a light grip on the visor with the graspers from one datacable for some support. That was cute. He liked this bot. They'd do well if that servo sensitivity improved, which it was sure to do. Observant enough, seemingly intelligent, fairly likeable so far, certainly compassionate and empathetic.(edited)  
"You could set that aside over here," Forceps offered, gesturing to the little side table now containing several trays of shrapnel, carefully laid out so all of it could be seen. "Now, Soundwave- up, come on, let me- here we are," they muttered, lightly nudging at Soundwave's frame until he arched up slightly, and carefully drew the long shard from its spot up under the spymaster's outer panel. Unsurprisingly given the number of sensors in the area that needed energon flow, it began to bleed rather heavily, and Forceps sighed quietly before lightly patting the spymaster's knee. "I need to get that sealed off. Would you retract just your outer valve cover for me, please, Soundwave? I will be quick," they whispered, voice uncharacteristically soft, relaxing their grip to let Soundwave reposition as he wanted. "Easy."

He'd known about this, felt the shard moving back and forth as he'd walked. Known it would happen eventually. Soundwave gently but firmly nudged blocked Sticks' view with one forearm, then retracted the requested panel, electing to get it over with quickly. In a way that didn't involve letting Sticks see the claw scrapes that still remained on the delicate inner paneling. Granted, his former 'occupation' as a gladiator and his relatively small build even at that point made certain things a distinct possibility, but he didn't particularly want to discuss those scars. Thank you.  
Forceps drew the shard free, muttering "let it bleed for a moment- clean the wound out", and petted light circles on Soundwave's kneecap for a klik. When they were satisfied, they rinsed the puncture with a squeeze bottle full of solvent, quickly dabbed it dry, and closed it off with a dab of sealant to the inside, pressing it closed. That done, he withdrew his servos and whispered "finished", making sure to keep their servos clean as the spymaster's panel snapped shut again. "There we are. Back to everywhere else."  
Soundwave un-blocked Sticks' view, content, and settled back into a comfortable position on his side. There. Now to hold onto the small and enjoyable little bot until his sparkrate settled again. Had to finish convincing his frame that he was safe.

Sticks's mouth moved as if to say something but the softness in Forceps's voice stopped them. They didn't resist when Soundwave nudged their helm away, instead leaning slightly against his arm. Whatever he was shielding them from, it was painful enough to cast a pall over the whole room. When Soundwave let his arms fall, Sticks inched further in, leaning against his chassis as the best approximation of a hug for a bot whose arms couldn't properly wrap around the other's circumference, and even if they could, didn't have enough strength to do it well. Soundwave had gone very quiet. They could sense from their proximity his deep-seated trepidation. The mood from before was slipping away through their outstretched fingers. Now was not the time to crack a joke, especially considering the majority of their playbook revolved around interface and related paraphernalia. And they certainly weren't going to say anything that would require explanation.   
Sticks began to hum, absentmindedly at first, just to fill the silence, until a cadence caught their attention. They tilted their helm a bit, repeating it a few times. It was something they knew, if they could just place it. All of a sudden the rest of the phrase came to them. It was the final line in the chorus of an old cybertronian drinking song. They continued humming the melody as it came to them. It was a lively tune, easy to pick up-what some would call a bit of an audial-worm, all with the same strange, somewhat mournful cadence at the end of the chorus that had stuck in their mind after all those years.   
Sticks stopped humming and let out a short sigh, "shame I can't remember the lyrics, that was a fun one."

"Soundwave: may have relevant musical file. Not on person," he commented, slowly petting Sticks' upper back, then glanced over at Forceps and huffed. Moving somewhat gently was appreciated, but that- slightly too much. "Soundwave: not fragile. Unreasonable degree of carefulness. Scars: well healed."   
After a moment more, resolve gripped his core, and he lightly nudged Sticks' helm to look as he retracted his panel again. Still just the outer layer, he wasn't feeling that obliging about being an anatomy example, but- he hadn't lied. He was largely fine. It was the pain that started to get to him, the barely-there sensation of something sharp digging in just under the panel. Felt too much like someone trying to pry at it. Unnerving. This? Showing a certain set of scars to a medical student for educational purposes (and slightly to try and diffuse the mood by pointing out that he wasn't bothered too much)? This was fine. And relevant. A little nudge to Sticks' back as encouragement to take a look, and he indicated specific scar patterns with the grasper tip of one datacable, stroking Sticks' back for comfort but seeming fairly calm. He definitely wasn't tensing any further. This was to use on others, after all. As if indicating something on a chart to let Sticks know what to look for. Just without the chart. It was fine. He was fine.  
"Puncture, drag marks: pry motions. Panel: opens under sufficient force to prevent being outright torn off. Less common scars due to panel replacement being relatively simple. Punctures, here, claws slipped away from panel. This: pry mark. Tool. Scars: not seen in every assault case, but presence warrants increased degree of caution. Cause: often hidden due to shame. Pit fighters: at high risk of attack after losing match, either in ring as exhibition or after. Known, notable complication. Often not admitted to, less out of shame at attack, more out of shame at losing. Additional complication: increased wariness, bad responses to being immobilized. Restraints: to be used with extreme care in Pit fighters, any with similar scars. Bots in general. Torture cases: frequent," he offered, then made a tiny, amused noise, still not closing his panel. "Soundwave: also tortured. Hazard of occupation. Dislike of restraints, especially when sedated, injured."   
He just had all kinds of fun things in his past, didn't he? Another nudge to Sticks, then, trying to prompt a shift in the tone of the room, "Soundwave: not about to panic at crude joke. Interface equipment: not scary. Except when modded with teeth."  
Forceps scoffed gently at being told off, patting Soundwave's hip. "I am a medic. You can't blame me for being overly careful. That's what we do. You're quite drugged, I don't know what to expect of you," they complained, then glanced over to Sticks, voice still calm and fairly casual. "He is right. It's best to be careful around potential traumas with drugged patients, but Soundwave is an extremely dangerous mech when he needs to be, and that makes him confident. Move a bit slowly around his hips and inner thighs, let him know what you're about to do, and he's all right even when stressed and on edge. Pain to this general area seems to be a bit of a trigger for him- for anyone, really. Instinctive urge to protect delicate equipment, magnified considerably by sensation-memory. Especially in cases involving claws. And..." a momentary pause to consider "he is offering to let you touch. Sedated as he is, he seems to still be thinking clearly, if slowly. It's entirely up to you, but those are useful scars to be able to identify with minimal inspection, so... you should get a closer look, if you're comfortable with that. He seems to be. At the worst, he's certainly not prone to blind panic- only reacting. Worst case is he'll probably kick one of us if startled, but he's in no shape to kick all that hard, so. Up to you."

Sticks sat still and listened to the two very carefully, giving a nod to Forceps before they made to crawl over to Soundwave's hips. "Oh no Soundwaaaaaaave you can't just say that." they whined, "Forceps would you hate me forever if I got my valve modded with teeth?" They looked up and gave the bot a doleful expression that turned to a devious one within a few kliks, "what I was going to say was that this must have been where you were hiding the Decepticon secrets. Or that you had some pet down here that you didn't want me to see. Or that yanno, you had a big ol bag of shanix somewhere hidden in your valve that only Forceps can know about. I was workshopping it. But here you see, contrary to popular I am not afraid of equipment."   
Sticks knelt down and tried to make themself comfortable on the anterior area of Soundwave's hips, "there's nothing scary about the frame, not in the slightest, it's what people do with it that's scary." They set to committing the scars to memory, noting which ones were which- puncture, scratch, pry mark. They hadn't seen the latter before- or rather, hadn't been able to place cause to effect. "Thanks for keeping me informed, it's good to know. Draft was a fighter too. He doesn't talk about matches much but I got the feeling his fights were... mostly final. He's not the kinda person to disclose when he's uncomfortable except for when he's at the very edge so hopefully I'll be informed enough not to get him to that state."  
With that they gave Soundwave's thigh a little pat and turned around to lean on his belly, "you know it's... interesting, the things society, war, have done to us, kind of a grab bag really. If someone had told me sitting at my desk in the archive that I'd develop a... distaste for low light I don't think I would have believed them," they sighed, "but here we are. It's difficult to navigate the individual's pain after everything that's happened but... compassion and patience seem to go a long way," they frowned, realizing they had waxed philosophical again, "and crude jokes, fuck."


	7. Chapter 7

Draft? Ah- the bot Soundwave had pegged as a potential threat. LIkely not an easy one to check for scars, let alone scars with specific meanings. Though... enduring such things had been... almost a chance to reclaim one's honor after a lost exhibition match. The crowd wanted a show, so they got a show. If the loser could bear the pain without any significant show of distress, then get up, bow to the crowd, and walk away, it earned them some respect back. Definitely better than dying. But- an important note.   
_"Assault: common consequence of losing exhibition matches. Show of winner's superiority, way of earning crowd approval. Cruel. Soundwave: pragmatic. Not cruel. Not a rapist. No interest in further injuring surrendered opponent. Important point to remember."_   
And it _was_ important. He'd never sink that low. Not even close.  
Now to something nicer. Specifically, Sticks tucked warm and alive up against his stomach. Curling slightly around the small bot, he tucked himself comfortably against Sticks' frame, one knee hiked up to rest it on Sticks for a good firm weight. Then, for good measure, he coiled a datacable on top, essentially using himself as a blanket. _"Soundwave: does not advise adding teeth to valve. Very rare kink. Most other partners: likely to object. Reasonably so. Alternate suggestion for interface mods:"_ here he extended the delicate tendrils from one datacable, letting them grasp lightly at Sticks' wrist, _"manipulator tendrils. More frequent kink. Better stimulation. Lower risk of abrupt amputation. Largely appreciated by partners."_  
<"Now the question here is, does he speak from experience? 'cos I know what his equipment's like from showers, but I'm not telling!"> Laserbeak declared from her spot on Soundwave's ankle, no longer fully occupied with sending him calming vibes, and tilted her helm in her equivalent of a wink. <"Wanna guess?">

"Congratulations. You have managed to make yourself a cuddle toy to easily the most dangerous mech in this star system. While he's high off his aft and discussing unconventional interface mods with you. Not how this job usually goes," Forceps commented, wrapping a wide strip of bandage material around Soundwave's upper thigh to cover a series of un-plugged shrapnel wounds, then paused again and gave Sticks a Look. "And no. You should not have yourself modded to have teeth in your valve. Or anywhere else they do not normally grow. Tendrils, I... might be more inclined to agree with. Provided the resources were present and you went to a proper medic rather than a hack-job mod builder."

 

Sticks blinked a bit at the Soundwave-pile they found themself in as they processed what Forceps said. "Naturally," they chuckled softly and turned to Forceps, winking, "I have that effect on people." They were more touched by the realization than they'd like to admit, smiling to themself as they turned back.    
Sticks wiggled further into the coils of Soundwave's datacables and focused on the small tendrils wrapped around their wrist. "Huh," they said, drawing the tip of a completely still finger down its immediate length, "It's -hmm. Yeah I can see how this can be appealing- wow it's nice and smooth too -have to remember I can feel things now-" they covered their mouth with their servo and hum-laughed deeply through a slight blush, "I can think of... a lot of ways to put something like these to good use. But oh, it's probably a fortune to get modification surgery like this. These parts are so specialized," they leaned back , putting a melodramatic servo on their forehead, "that's what people do right? Once they've got control of their life again, get extravagant, extremely frivolous frame modifications that may or may not exclusively be used for interface?" They turned to Laserbeak this time, smirking, "See I already know the answer to that question, after all why would you bring it up if it were not true? Fits the rest of his frame, too. That's easy."   
Sticks sat up again, at last, "Hmm, I wouldn't count valve-teeth out, after all-" they paused to look directly at Soundwave's face, figuring he'd appreciate more than Forceps, "One mech's junk is another mech's treasure."

 

Soundwave snaked the tendrils down to wrap them around Sticks' fingers, squeezing lightly, and gave a quiet, enticing purr. The contact was thoroughly welcome, he didn't get much attention. Slightly more now that he knew where to find Blackspark, but still. This was appreciated. Especially given the circumstances and his need for a distraction of some variety. Sticks was distracting, and cute.    
<"You'd think so! I keep telling him he oughta get some so's he matches, but nooo,"> Laserbeak scoffed, bapping Soundwave's lower leg with a wingtip. <"Wimp. What's a little optional surgery?">   
Soundwave jostled Laserbeak off his leg in retaliation, though affectionately. She was kidding. And not entirely wrong, that  _ would _ be fun for his partners, but he had a hard enough time getting surgery that he needed for legitimate medical reasons. Not worth the trouble.    
And then the  _ pun _ . Soundwave scoffed rather loudly, aiming a "no" fingertip at Sticks' face, pretending (mostly successfully) that he wasn't amused. Puns. Nooo. Bad. Scoffing again, he made as if to push Sticks away, but didn't let go of the little bot- definitely preferring to keep them close. Warm and snuggly. Humming a quiet noise, he petted Sticks' back and squeezed them closer, fingertips trailing over their plating in the start of a grooming session. Admittedly there wasn't much need for that, Sticks was clean and well-organized for the most part, but- ah, definitely some room to realign and pet at the armor down their leg. Mutual preening, then? He'd liked when Sticks was rubbing his side.

 

"The infamous Decepticon spymaster is a cuddler, who knew!" Sticks laughed, patting the nearest datacable, "I must say, strictly no frisky business, my... " they blushed a bit, "my partner's behind you and they have ready access to a great variety of sharp objects." Not that they were remotely worried, instead using the opportunity to, well, announce. They figured Soundwave had picked up on the two of their dynamic before but something about the phrase 'my partner' was thrillingly new and sweet on their glossa. "Besides, despite what it..." Sticks looked around amusedly at their bot-nest, "what it apparently looks like, I'm still one of your assigned medics."   
Sticks laid down a bit, settling into tracing the grooves on Soundwave's chassis. It was different this time, now that they could feel with their servos, the new sensation of slight differences in depth sparked at the tips of their fingers. They still weren't ready for deep massage, though. Their pets were without pressure, so as not to further tire their already-exhausted servos. What they lacked in fervor, they made up with meticulousness, gently outlining each plate in sight. If they were going to cuddle, they would go all in. All the while they talked, their voice clouded a bit by distraction, "I tell you what, Soundwave, if you ever want some interface tendrils, I'll give you a two-for-one deal. Get you your mods, and throw in a free fuel tank replacement. How does that sound?"

 

"You are providing a useful service. Patches does this sometimes, but wouldn't fit on the berth as well with a patient. Acus is a bit shy for something like this, and Scalpel... well," Forceps huffed, vaguely amused by the image of Soundwave attempting to cuddle Scalpel like this. It would not work  _ at all _ . Neither of them would enjoy such an attempt. Sort of like trying to snuggle a volt-cat that didn't like you.   
_ "Deal: good. However, tendrils: impractical in this case. Partners: likely to suspect Soundwave of hacking attempt. Paranoia: rife after war. Additionally, Soundwave: would prefer not to acquire new data connectors which can only be used while naked," _ he commented, fighting a rather amused noise at the idea of sitting on one of the Nemesis consoles without a few rather important pieces of plating. Might be a fun way to work, but not appropriate for work. Though some of the Vehicons might very much enjoy him doing that. Bit cold in the Nemesis bridge, though.    
After a little while longer, Forceps finished with the last of the puncture marks and lightly nudged Soundwave's side, humming softly. "There. Sit up so I can scan you properly, and tell me if you feel anything."    
Soundwave obliged, still holding Sticks, sitting up carefully and rolling his shoulders one at a time. Nothing in particular happened, so he shook his helm slightly, now holding Sticks outright in his lap. Benefits of small bots; easy to hold when they liked it. And Laserbeak was lovely to cuddle, but she didn't have the warmth of someone Sticks' size. Sometimes it was nice to snuggle people other than his symbiotes.

 

Now that Soundwave was upright, Sticks could fully appreciate his comparative size. Had he really been this big the whole time? They were caught in his shadow, looking up at what was mostly a silhouette underneath bright surgery lamps. Alarm bells rang in their head as the phrase 'most dangerous mech in the star system' washed over them like a rough weather siren across an open expanse. Before they could really process anything, they drew their field in as close as they could control and went very still, gaze locked upward, optics dim.  It took a few moments for them to move again, their optics twitched slightly, then they blinked a few times and took a deep breath. Finally they broke their gaze away, enough to look down. They stole a few more glances upward before finally speaking, "That's... intimidating."   
Sticks's voice was quiet, wavering just a bit, a hint of static distortion. They closed their optics and took a few deep breaths, "Perk of being small and defenseless: everyone loves a good cuddle buddy, downside: you're small... and defenseless..." they let out a hollow laugh, their demeanor had regained some of its confidence, "p-please hack my nuts Soundwave."

 

Oops.    
Soundwave, responses thoroughly slowed thanks to the newest dose of drugs, cocked his helm and thought as he watched Sticks. Would it help to put them down, or would the sudden lack of contact scare them more? Was this a reaction to something specific, or to the situation in general? Best to figure that out so he didn't make it worse by trying to help.    
Forceps leaned around Soundwave's frame, eyeing Sticks for a moment, then slowly, deliberately pulsed their field out to all involved. A soft surge of  _ confidence/reassurance/warmth _ , offering a reassurance that it was safe here, that there was no threat, that Soundwave wasn't about to hurt anyone. And, for once with this patient, who would hopefully understand the secrecy, they COMMed Sticks.  _.:He won't hurt you. His reputation is partly something he intentionally cultivated. Dangerous if he needs to be, but we haven't given him any need to be. And he seems to like you, regardless. You've likely triggered some protective instincts. Breathe. Tell me if you need to move away for a moment, it's all right if you do:. _

Soundwave, after a moment, gently shifted Sticks to lean their helm against his chassis, both arms loosely framing them, one datacable around their midsection. Warm, quiet, offering his sparkbeat as reassurance- no threat would willingly bare their chassis this much and offer their sparkrate to be heard.  _ "Nuts: difficult to hack due to lack of plugs. Size: not necessarily crippling. Consider: knives, blasters, laser cutters. Laserbeak: tiny, mostly wings, skilled fighter. Besides, medics: valuable. Medic occupation: valid defense mechanism," _ he noted, rubbing firmly against Sticks' back with the end of a datacable. Didn't look like they needed to go- probably he'd just spooked them.    
<"You wanna fight? I'll kick your aft! I'll kick everybody's aft! I'm a third your weight and I can beat you up!"> Laserbeak chattered, bouncing slightly in place, adrenaline wearing itself off in the form of energy, not really meaning it. She mostly fought via lasers, sabotage, and environmental hazards, she didn't have a good way to play-fight Sticks without injuring them.

 

Sticks took a bit to calm down properly, closing their optics and nestling further into Soundwave's chassis, "I- I know. Don't take it personally Soundwave, everyone above a certain height has spooked me at least once, if not... multiple times." They let out a wry laugh and opened their optics again, looking up at his helm, "I doubt you need the validation but from this angle you look  _ very _ scary. Pointy, vague biolight glint, don't even need to know who you are to know that's danger," they swiveled around to where Laserbeak was perched and pointed a finger at her, "And you! You're absolutely right! I don't doubt you in the slightest. I don't even know if i could hold something that'd do enough damage to be worth the trouble of holding. Please, ma'am kick my aft, everyone does it at some point, might as well get it over with."   
Sticks  _ sounded _ calmer now, still retaining a nervous edge, but Soundwave could feel them trembling against his chassis. They realized this and moved to hold out a servo, which shook considerably, "Yup I'm done for tonight. I mean I was done before but I'm  _ definitely _ done now. I'm- I'm fine, energy's gotta go somewhere, but it's gonna be going for a while longer. Um, looks like we're wrapping up, how are you feeling Soundwave? All those nasty bits outta you now?"

Soundwave  _ purred _ before he could stop himself at the sensation of Sticks snuggling into him, then lifted one servo and, playing a bit of spooky music, made a grabbing motion at the air with his claws. Maybe it would help to make a joke out of the spookiness? It  _ was _ something he'd intentionally cultivated for long enough that it was difficult to turn off.    
Glancing over one shoulder, Soundwave slowly arched his back, rolled both shoulders, and stretched, testing how everything felt. Still sore, from the bit he could feel under the sedatives, but nothing seemed to be tugging or stabbing anywhere. Good. Seemed fine. Now- to hold Sticks closer until they settled. And purr much, much louder, audibly now, hunched protectively over the bundle of medic.    
Forceps ran a few scans to check for anything additional, then, nodding their satisfaction, stepped away. "Good. I'll get you a softer berth and some blankets, you need to rest. No arguments! You are not leaving this  _ room _ , let alone this ship, until I'm certain you won't start bleeding again," they scolded, then, sawlets up, turned to leave. Sticks seemed- not calm yet, but not about to get  _ less _ calm. "Sticks, good work, both with the shrapnel and with being a distraction."

 

Sticks sat up, optics bright, more of a slightly-twitchy smile playing at their face than they wanted. The praise had caught them off guard. They were  _ thrilled, _ too much for their own taste (after all they weren't that desperate... right?). They couldn't quite summon what to say and simply replied with a quick, cheerful, nod. They watched Forceps leave, only managing a quiet, breathless "thank you" as the door snapped shut. They kicked their legs a bit and chuckled, "I  _ am _ a good distraction."   
With that, Sticks motioned for Laserbeak  to come, "You look so lonely over there. We've got space, I think." They looked up at Soundwave's helm, "Right, you'll probably have to stay here for at least a few days if not more, are there any special accommodations you want? Guards? Sleeping buddy? Special-uhh" they quickly scanned the room, "lighting arrangement? I know there's a sound system in the medbay, I don't see why it wouldn't extend to these rooms, might be able to play you some things if that'd help you sleep if you need em. I don't think you should get visitors tonight but I guess Patches has the final word there. Oh- you... probably have all the medics's private comm addresses, would you like mine too? Don't know how much I can do on my own but if nobody else answers and you need assistance I'll do my best." They had been practicing for this moment, noticing the way the other medics spoke to those who came in when they were shadowing or off-duty. At this point they'd figured out enough about the ship to do most of the things they were offering. It was something they could confidently do on their own, easy though it may be.

  
  


Laserbeak hopped up to sit flopped against Sticks' frame, shoving demandingly at their servos, and buzzed in contentment as Soundwave gently stroked her back. Their bond was closed up slightly because of how strange it felt to have one of them drugged, but they were still communicating, soft, warm reassurance at each other. That had been a close call, truthfully, a grenade like that could maim or kill Laserbeak in an instant and could have mangled Soundwave if he hadn't moved in time. Aim all that at his face instead of his back and he would have been in considerably worse shape, potentially unable to groundbridge to a medic, and that didn't bear thinking about.   
Not when Sticks was offering Soundwave music to help him sleep. That was... an unexpectedly normal thing to offer someone. With the implication of him needing help with sleeping. That probably said something about Sticks, in addition to them being sweet. Optics soft behind his visor, Soundwave hummed and rocked very slowly in place, thoroughly enjoying the company.  _ "Soundwave: would appreciate wireless access to door functions, lights, sound system. Sticks' COMM: appreciated. Guards: not required, ship inhabitants likely either tolerant or unaware, medics present. Would like to talk to Blackspark, once Blackspark: not drunk. Sticks: needs to rest, relax. Would like to stay?" _

 

Sticks put their still-shivering servos on the edges of Laserbeak's wings, stroking outward absentmindedly as they gave Soundwave their comm address. Their petting stopped for a second as they frowned a bit, "I don't know how to get wireless access to the systems in this room, I'll ask Forceps when they come back. It's likely we can't give you door permissions, though. I can easily imagine patients walking out way before they're done recovering and re-injuring themselves. Or yanno, patient locks the door, Scalpel has to go through the vents- which I've seen her do by the way. Granted, I'm not all the way read up on standard protocol so you may get that anyway as long as you vow not to do anything reckless. Sound and lights are definitely a can-do, though. I think tomorrow you should see Blackspark. I'll go find him myself if he doesn't show up on his own."    
Sticks stopped, shifted their palms to lay flat on Laserbeak's wings and patted her gently, "As for me... yeah. I'll stick around until you get properly settled for the night and then probably head off. It's been... a lot today and-" they paused, tilting a dubious optic up to Soundwave's face, "I hope you didn't mean 'stay the night.' Aside from ethics reasons, I can guarantee I'll, unintentionally of course, slap you in the face... at some point which would be uncomfortable in some capacity for both of us."

 

<"Mmm, that's the spot. And he's only asking to be polite. You"> a startlingly clear scoffing noise from a being who spoke only in chirps <"really think you could trap him?">   
"We really couldn't," Forceps commented, shoving a softer-looking wheeled berth into the room, and fit it into an empty corner. "Not without considerable difficulty, at least, and serious damage to ourselves and him. You and I alone very likely could not unless we got extraordinarily lucky. Has he asked about the door controls he already has access to yet?" they asked, and smirked a bit when the spymaster huffed loudly. "Because, don't let him fool you, he found that frequency a long time ago. We didn't bother changing it, he's behaved himself so far. For future reference, we don't lock patients in without something seriously warranting it. That never goes over well, with anyone. The locks are primarily in case someone feels safer with one- which a lot of people do, at this point. If you need someone to trust you, giving them a lock is a big help. Now- you, let go of my apprentice and move over here."

Soundwave flickered _"keep apprentice"_ across his visor, but let go of Sticks to get up, not sure he trusted his own balance enough to not drop the minibot. Helm cocked slightly, he moved slowly to the new berth and its heap of blankets, hissing between his dentae at the sensation of putting weight on semi-numbed, punctured limbs, and slumped with visible relief into the berth when he got there. Groaning out a soft noise  that could either have been pain or enjoyment, he burrowed into the blankets provided, immediately locating the electric blanket and positioning it all down his front, then gestured insistently to Sticks. _"Understood. Sticks: stay briefly. Rest. Enjoy. Situation: enjoyable?"_ complete with a questioning helm-tilt. Sticks _was_ enjoying this, right? He hadn't misread that? Couldn't possibly be _that_ drugged to completely misread something this straghtforward. Or maybe just seemingly straightforward. Best to ask. _"Also, Sticks: should pad servos, sleep behind berthmate if prone to nightmares. Ravage: claws. Similar idea."_   
Poor Ravage. Nightmares about being forced to be someone's pet and taken away from him, or worse, him being killed to allow for the kidnapping. Stressed hosts sometimes gave their symbiotes nightmares, apparently. A fun night for all whenever that happened.  
What he wouldn't give to go back to waking up with claws buried somewhere sensitive. He'd take being clawed for the rest of his life if it meant he could spend that life with Ravage back.

 

"Well, looks like you've spent more time with sensible people, Forceps. Autobots and their hero-complexes... coulda used more locks," Sticks shook their head and began to make their way over to the other berth. They leaned pretty heavily on what they could find, a mixture of the slight twinges of pain from their damaged leg, general tiredness, and a post-panic jittery disorientation. They thought for a bit. This wasn't exactly their idea of a  _ fun _ time to be sure, but there was something vastly intriguing about the spymaster that made the experience more enjoyable than hanging around with less-interesting strangers. He laughed at their jokes too, that was a big plus.

Sticks gripped the edge of the padded berth at last, "I have to say it has been more enjoyable than I thought it would be. So, for the most part, yes," they hoisted themself up onto the berth and scooted over to where Soundwave had put the electric blanket. For a moment they paused, considering laying down but thought better of the idea considering the exhaustion creeping up their limbs. Instead they found their place from before, lounging on his belly plating. They looked at their servo for a moment, it was still shaking, albeit less than before, "You know, that's a good idea, getting some removable padded covers of some sort. But then at that point I might as well pad my elbows too. It's a-" they frenziedly waved their arms in the air, "kind of a flail. You wake up once inside a corpse from the disturbed rumblings of an approaching giant sandworm and you never quite recover from that." They shrugged, "but sleeping behind someone? That's too lonely, likely to get even worse nightmares back there. In the front where it's warm," they leaned back, stretching out their legs off the side of the berth, "that's where life's at its best."   
Sticks took a deep breath in, letting the combined warmth of both Soundwave and the blanket seep into their frame. They turned their head to glance at Forceps, "you... think you'll join us S-Forceps?"

 

Soundwave purred quietly at the warmth, and he held Sticks close with one arm and one datacable, quietly enjoying the warmth. Poor Sticks. Hadn't done so well through the war, then. Nobody had, but- minibots. Small, vulnerable. Optics dimming to nothing behind his visor, he curled around the small frame, humming in the back of his throat to comfort Sticks and the memory-ghost of his symbiotes. Laserbeak shoved her way under his arm at the echo of loss through the bond, and that was good, she was still here and safe. The new little one was still here, too, tucked away in his spark chamber where no one could hurt it without killing him first, but the  _ rest _ ... they were gone. He'd lost them.    
Forceps stared at the whole situation for a moment, then huffed, shrugged, and moved to sit on the edge of the berth. "May as well. Now-  _ why _ were you inside a corpse?" they asked, then smirked, huffing slightly in something between amusement and frustration. "Unfortunately, no, it's not always about common sense. It's mostly because locking a patient in a small room is a good way to make them panic-  _ especially _ Decepticons. And former miners. Better to try to shoo them back into the room than to trap them. Now, you-" a glance back at Soundwave "-may have access to the lighting and door in this room. You may  _ not _ play with the rest of the medbay. I need those lights and doors working properly," they declared, leaning back near Sticks, tucking up against the larger mech's frame. Not professional. Didn't care. They'd brought a tray of the largest shrapnel over, and they began to inspect the pieces, cleaning them of dried energon against a cloth to check for splintering.

 

"Well, right where was I," Sticks pondered for a moment, stealing a glance at what Forceps was doing before returning to their pondering, "We'd lost the second medic by then, which meant medic duties officially fell to me- small servos, and I used to hang around the medbay because what else would I do. It really sucked in the beginning because I realized I didn't really absorb what the actual trained medic was doing-not that he'd really let me  _ watch _ outside of first aid situations. So at some point I decided to go out and study when everyone had downtime. It wasn't hard to find bodies of people you've never seen before at that point even though some of them required a fair bit of walking. I'd do a few things, usually cause of death wasn't too hard to determine, giant hole in the chassis, too many missing limbs, head's off et cetera, but I'd figure it out anyway, there was some nuance. And then, you know, well," they shrugged, "autopsy is a strong word, but I'd take em apart, see where things go, where things usually sit, compare it to what I already know. Eventually I got pretty confident with the inner workings of the frame, but yanno, never pass up a chance to double check what you know. But-"    
Sticks waved their hands a bit as if to step back, "right, so one of those days -well, it happened a couple times but not as drastically as the last time- it was late, the sun was gonna set soon, there was a sandstorm on the horizon and I was out far enough to worry about getting back before the sandstorm hit (which would be the worst case scenario, you do NOT want to be caught in a sandstorm). So I, uhh" they scratched the back of their neck, looking sheepish, "Well he was a big mech- half a big mech. Just crawled inside to wait out the storm, ended up falling asleep in the process. Woke up to rumbling outside, my arms tangled up in his vent tubing. And yeah that was... that."

 

"Mm. That would do it," Forceps muttered, slumping along Soundwave's frame, and huffed quietly in the back of their throat. "You certainly aren't the only one to hide in a corpse. I've done it myself; sometimes it's the only cover there  _ is _ . Or you have to get inside to get the part you need to save one. Can't say I've fallen asleep in one, though. I don't advise doing that- good way to be chewed on by at least one scavenger. Or even buried, if someone tries to clean up and doesn't notice you. The curiosity- there was a surprising amount of that during the war. Balanced out by general stigma around interacting with the dead, but- anatomy knowledge in general was lacking, and you hit on the best way to improve yours."    
The blankets over Soundwave were a mess, so Forceps began to straighten them, more to organize the mess than to ensure his comfort. He seemed more than comfortable regardless of the mess. "Also, medics- very prone to taking apart dead things of any sort before and during education. The genes that bring the unusual strength and, in particular, the specialized servos and optics, also tend to bring a knack for how things are supposed to fit together. If there's a lack of dead things, young medic-frames take apart anything they're allowed to- and things that they aren't. I used to enjoy taking apart chronometers, and putting them back together. With... varying degrees of success. Must say, I rather enjoy that- you can take your time on a chronometer, it won't die on you," they commented, leaning with their side against Soundwave's frame, absently petting him through the fabrics.

Soundwave, quietly sad for his lost little ones, tucked himself up into a ball under the blankets. He was mostly hidden, save the glimpses of bio-lights underneath the raised edge, his stomach exposed where it was pressed to Sticks. Gently hold Sticks, pet Laserbeak, and- hm. Forceps wasn't exactly snuggly, but they were  _ right there _ , so he rested his fingertips lightly against their leg. They didn't seem to object.

 

"I learned my lesson being chased by a sandworm first thing in the morning, no more sleeping in corpses. People also don't seem to like it when you come back smelling like death. Weren't any good showers then either so you kinda had to buff off the old energon with some sand. Never regretted my inability to smell things, and still don't to this day." Sticks leaned back, absentmindedly petting Soundwave's arm, "And it's funny, you had chronometers, I had computers. Used to crack open the broken ones to see all the wiring inside, though I never put em back together which... probably accounts for something. It never occurred to me to put the corpses back together after-" they stopped themself and turned to look at Soundwave's visor, he was much quieter than before, "Ah, Soundwave, I'm sorry, are... are you okay? You're so silent, is it... too nasty?"    
Sticks shifted to catch Soundwave's nearest servo in their own. He was buried deep enough in blankets he almost looked... small, "I forget sometimes things are a little too gross for other people. We can change the subject if you want." Their servos still quaked around Soundwave's as they tried to parse what they could see of his frame.

 

...did Sticks really think the descriptions of corpses were the problem? Soundwave broke his silence with a tiny scoffing noise, then, still under the blankets, shook his helm slightly.  _ "Soundwave: unbothered by gore. Especially in frames no longer capable of feeling pain. Occasionally investigates interesting corpses. Difficulty:" _   
A long pause, and Soundwave tucked Laserbeak to his chassis with one arm, protecting her with his frame and the blankets as much as he could.  _ "Difficulty: losses. Symbiotes. Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw, Ravage. Gone," _ he explained, and curled up tighter, but didn't hide completely- he still wanted the contact. He'd started thinking about Ravage's nightmares, then, from there, into his own- his fears of losing his little ones. And he had. He loved Laserbeak, he loved the little flicker in his chassis, but their bond was so  _ quiet _ . He hadn't always listened to them, but he'd been the hub for his little ones, had always had them present. No matter how much input he looked for everywhere else, he couldn't fill the quiet in the corner of his awareness that was supposed to have them in it. Too quiet. He'd only ever had this quiet before the rest of his little ones had been born, and, even if he closed it off entirely to focus on something or to have some time to himself, the chatter was still  _ there _ .  _ "Soundwave: cold. Everywhere." _

Forceps stroked Soundwave's flank through the blankets for a moment longer, explaining, very softly, to Sticks. "Symbiote sparks help to increase the host's rate of energy flow. Symbiotes let a host bulk up somewhat; they often put on more armor, and they develop stronger frames. If the symbiotes are lost, that energy flow reduces again. It's not fatal, but the increased armor tends to die and fall off, and the energy flow reduces somewhat. I'm not surprised he's cold. And I... can't fix that, not really. I can't fix them being gone. I'm sorry," they whispered, pulsing a quiet, respectful wave of  _ sympathy/apology/comfort _ , then withdrew it in case it wasn't wanted. What did they do here? What did they do about a patient missing someone?

 

Sticks's optics flickered. They stared for a moment at Soundwave's face and heaved a long sigh.  _ That's it then. _ Leaden sorrow leeched into their frame until finally they broke their gaze with a knowing hum. They hesitantly reached a servo out to touch Soundwave's side, then turned around altogether to drape their entire upper body where they could reach, taking care not to put weight on the spots on his back where they'd just treated. They were silent for a bit, collecting their thoughts before they spoke, "We must carry the absence of the lost with us. Some... moreso than others. Memory is final act of cruelty that the universe committed in creating sapience. It is our heaviest burden but also our most valuable," they closed their optics, "Even though there's an absence, the pain, the coldness reminds us they were here and they  _ mattered. _ Memory, your memory, our memory, stands as their monument, a small sliver of their spark that we carry with us- that we must carry with us, else they would disappear entirely," they let out a shivering breath and found a chassis plate to rub over the blankets with their servo, "All we can do is walk on, knowing we must..."   
Sticks lay silently again, focused on gently petting what they could find. At last they spoke again, "I know I'm no substitute but I've been told I'm pretty warm so..."

 

Soundwave stayed completely silent for a few moments, then, carefully, gathered Sticks up to hug to his chassis. It smushed Laserbeak a bit, but from what he could feel of her, she didn't mind. What was he supposed to do with  _ that _ ? Sit here having emotions?    
Didn't have many options. Therefore, he snuggled the offered minibot, pushed his covered face into the crook of Sticks' neck, and kept purring- an entirely different tone, fluctuating softly, meant to calm himself and Laserbeak. Shivering, undulating purrs, occasionally punctuated by a louder purr from his engine, petting Sticks' back in time with the noises. Slow, soft, gentle. Calm.    
He couldn't bring them back. But stress was bad for his little ones, and he had another spark orbiting his own. He couldn't afford to dwell on grief. That didn't mean he wasn't going to, for now, be very quietly sad against Sticks' throat.

Forceps, meanwhile, looked a bit like someone caught in the middle of an impromptu funeral. Entirely out of place and not sure how to leave without being disrespectful, mostly. Wearing a vaguely uncomfortable expression, they tried hard not to fidget, instead slowly reaching into subspace. They couldn't fix it, but... maybe if they-?    
Quietly, and without pushing it, they nudged a scanner into Soundwave's servo. A few gentle motions, and they settled it into place low against his chassis, over his spark chamber, carefully focusing it on the little sparklet. It was only visible when in front of his spark, it was hidden when it orbited around to the back, but the point of energy was clear and bright.

Soundwave took the scanner without questioning it, cocking his helm enough to look down at the screen, and stayed like that- holding Sticks and Laserbeak, watching the sparklet move.    
That helped.

Soundwave's purring eventually faded away, replaced by soft, deep vents, and his bio-lights dimmed as he sank into recharge. Forceps stroked him for a moment longer, with the servo not holding the records they were updating, then slowly got up and gestured to Sticks. "Come on. Let him rest. You did well, Sticks."

 

Sticks slowly, silently inched out from under Soundwave's arm, careful not to disturb Laserbeak in the process. Their frame seemed to have shivered off the rest of their energy, so when their pedes hit the floor they swayed with exhaustion, catching themself on the side of the berth with a fortunately-attentive servo. They shook their helm as a temporary measure against the encroaching fatigue, feeling their mind clear up a bit. When they'd found more balance, they looked up to Forceps and smiled, wide, tired, uninhibited. It wasn't until the door had closed behind both of them that they spoke up, albeit quietly, "He's had a rough time of it huh, can't imagine living like that."    
Sticks let out a quick sigh, dispelling the last of the melancholy clinging to their chassis, and lightly bumped into Forceps's arm. They leaned their helm on their shoulder, optics dim, "I'm... tired, Songbird, is there anything else left to do tonight? Cleanup? Recordskeeping?"

 

"He seems to be doing all right. If the grief was normally that intense, he wouldn't have survived this long- he lost his symbiotes a long time ago," Forceps sighed, sliding an arm around Sticks for some support. "People who have adrenaline wearing off tend to be a bit emotional, more so when drugged. Probably he remembered something and that set it off. He's doing... better than most, as far as I can tell. Minimal traumas that significantly affect his daily life, at least. General aversion to contact around his hips, like you saw. Intensely, understandably protective of his symbiotes. Suspicion of COMMs he's aware of but not privvy to. Easy enough to work with, as medics. Most of it manifests, as traumas tend to, primarily in vulnerable states. But he is very, very competent, and incredibly deadly."    
Giving Sticks a little squeeze, they glanced around for a moment before heading towards the medics' quarters, huffing quietly. "We could find something else to do, but  _ you _ are going to sleep. I am probably going to sit near you and sort old records, you are going to  _ sleep _ . You are exhausted and need to avoid doing much else with your servos. Aside from a massage- I am going to un-stiffen them for you. Now... would you prefer to sleep in your berth or mine?" they asked, pausing near the doors, voice still their matter-of-fact, professional tone. This was, in a way, medical. Sticks needed rest, and help integrating their servos. Medical. But, hopefully, enjoyable.

 

"Don't need to tell me twice. It's not like I wanna-" Sticks yawned, "wanna stay awake." They could feel the exhaustion take over as the need to perform drained out of them, leaning further into Forceps, "Mmmmine. You just gotta promise you'll sleep too. You've been up as long as I have."   
Sticks led the way to their room, leaning their forearm on the doorframe as they went through. The room was a bit smaller than the other medics's rooms, with the same arrangement of furniture, a berth in the far corner, draped with thick blankets, posed next to a desk on which sat a haphazard pile of datapads, and some wall shelves, which currently were barren, save for a few insect husks and bones collected from trips to planet surfaces. They had moved in a small table, too, which was occupied by a leafy-looking plant in a clay planter and the materials for some kind of lighting setup, unfinished. Another tall stalk of a plant grew from a bigger pot sat in the corner. The entire room was lit by several small sconces that plugged into wall outlets, essentially nightlights, which gave the room somewhat of an etherial underglow.    
"You're welcome to join me but I'll warn you I'm gonna... gonna be out by the time I get horizontal," Sticks said, breaking from Forceps's embrace to stumble over to the berth. Theirs was positioned considerably lower than Forceps's, to account for the height difference, so when they got close enough all they had to do was sit down. They slumped back against the wall let out a long breath.

 

Forceps made a noncommittal noise at the concept of their own sleep, looking around at the room with quiet interest, and sat down next to Sticks. "Mm. Do try not to smack me," they muttered, and, gently, nudged Sticks down onto their side. "Down. Sleep. Give me your servos-" they murmured, and wrapped the edge of a blanket firmly around Sticks' servos, containing them. "Here. Let's just contain this so you don't injure your servos. We should try to figure out a solution to your... flailing before you get your full set of sensors, or you'll be waking yourself up in serious pain from running all that into something solid. May want to just... go with the simplest option, some padding around your servos and elbows, nicely textured on the insides of the servo protectors. Tomorrow."    
  
Bracer, eventually, picked Blackspark up and sleepily headed off back to his own room with the carrier. Blackspark had been insisting on being carried to places lately, and Bracer went with it- no wonder he was having some trouble moving, there was another person in his frame! They could absolutely carry him places for a few more days, him and the other larger bots on the ship. Besides, it got Bracer someone to snuggle in berth. Albeit carefully.   
Duo climbed onto Bowline's shoulders as soon as she indicated any desire to leave, and stayed up there, notably being careful not to grab at her helm and chassis at all. Instead, they leaned into each other for support, crooning down at her. "Want to come! Sleep on top of you, all warm, comfy. Pet you. Pleeease?" they trilled, leaning down to see Bowline's optic as much as possible. "Make you feel nice! Other can come, too."

  
  


Sticks jolted awake, shivering violently. That was... a nightmare, that was one  _ Pit _ of a nightmare. For a moment of distilled, overwhelming panic they couldn't feel their servos, until the sensation of tugging at wrapped cloth traveled up their arms. They jerked their servos free and brought them up to their face to make sure they were still there. They were, of course. They took a few deep breaths, they were fine, they were okay. The post-nightmare haze began to thin, enough for them to realize they also weren't alone. A dark silhouette lay on the berth next to them. In the dim light they could see Forceps's relaxed face, their servos loosely positioned under their own throat. It was not the first time Sticks had woken up first. Any other morning they would have admired the sharp angles of their partner's face illuminated by the flattering underlight before gently kissing them awake.

Not now. Not  _ them, _ not now. Sticks pushed themself off the end of the berth, careful not to disturb the sleeping medic. A few tiptoed steps to make sure they'd actually done it and they turned around to stagger out the door. They made their way, their mind buzzing but numb, through the medics quarters and out to the medbay proper. To their relief it was bright, not silent, and most importantly, empty. They leaned against the nearest wall and closed their optics. Images of energon dripping between their fingers, glowing bright against the darkness flashed in their mind. They ripped their optics open again as their breath caught in their throat. Their servo shook as they brought it up to their face. In the light now they could truly confirm it was fine, nothing had happened -of  _ course _ nothing had happened, it was a nightmare. They couldn't stop thinking about it as much as they wanted to and soon the details began to sink in. Their shaking stopped as a horrified numbness descended over them. Their spark felt hollow in their chassis, even more than usual. They remembered Forceps's gentle praise, the careful, delicate, practiced movements as they- as they. Sticks buried their face in their servos to try to banish the thought.  _ But why. _ They could feel their optics begin to spark underneath their fingertips. Their shoulders shook as sobs ran through their frame.   
At least they were alone.

 

Forceps gave a quiet, disgruntled sound at the loss of warmth, shifting slightly in search of it, then curled up under the blankets again and settled. They hadn't noticed. Too many bots had gotten a distress response of entirely shutting down their EM field during the war, so none of Sticks' distress had been conveyed. Which was the only reason they were still sleeping and not trying to comfort Sticks.    
  
A little while later, someone bumped lightly into the medbay doors, knocked rapidly and unsteadily for an instant, then pushed it open and staggered inside. Glasses bright and nearly sparking in distress, Notepad limped into the medbay, whining quietly in pain, and made a beeline for the fire extinguisher hung on the wall- at minibot height, no less, to be sure anyone involved could reach it. Notepad grabbed it off the wall and crumpled into a ball in that corner, clutching the extinguisher as if their life depended on it. On some level, they thought it did. Clearly, something had happened.   
They were mobile, at least. Limping, but mobile. Much of one flank was singed up, the paint bubbled and peeling, making it impossible to tell how badly they were actually injured underneath. That could be anywhere from something that was painful, but could be treated with a painkiller spray, a gentle rub-away of the paint, and ointment, to serious underlying nerve damage. No way to tell without getting closer. Not that they looked open to being inspected- they were wedged back into the corner, against the cabinet doors, the extinguisher pointing more or less at the rest of the room. Not that there was any fire to put out. Still, the weight and the idea that, if there  _ was _ a fire, they could do something about it- that helped. They hadn't noticed Sticks yet, nor had they  _ met _ Sticks, just seen them once or twice as a sort of afterthought while in the medbay to discuss something with a medic.

 

Sticks jumped at the sound of someone entering the medbay, tearing their servos from their face just in time to see someone they didn't recognize limping away from the wall, slightly encumbered, and the fire extinguisher missing. They took a deep breath and wiped at their face to clear the ash. They weren't in the best shape for this necessarily, but one doesn't enter the medbay unless one needed help, unless... They pushed themself off from the wall and walked over to where the extinguisher-thief had hidden themself. Each step they modified their posture, straightening their back, tilting their head up, taking wide, confident strides. They convinced themself they could act presentable and clung to the thought as they rounded the corner.    
"What are you doing with my fire extinguisher?" Sticks's voice cracked as it came out, far too quiet and wavering to convey any kind of authority. They stopped, far enough away from Notepad to give them ample space. It dawned on them that they  _ really _ didn't know this bot. Part of them longed for Forceps's council. What if they were like Longrange? But... they didn't want to see anyone they knew right now, especially not Forceps. They leaned over slightly and put out an arm. On closer examination the stranger seemed thoroughly unnerved and... there was something odd with the paint on one side. Their expression softened to one of concern, "You... you look hurt, may I... come closer?" their voice was soft, quiet, "I'm Sticks, I may be able to help you." The standard medic script was far from their grasp right now but they hoped that'd do.

 

Notepad jumped slightly, startled, and managed to speak. Not clearly, not well, but they spoke. "It- its- its intended purpose? I-I think? I" they began, clinging tighter, and retreated somewhat behind the canister. It was more than the height of their chassis, so they could definitely at least begin to hide.    
At the offer, they nodded shakily, beginning to uncurl, to show off their burned side- then the edge of their winglet, fortunately only singed lightly, tapped against the wall and they panicked. It was the surge of pseudo-heat that did it, burnt sensors firing off a confused wave of signals at the impact, searing hot as if they'd just been brought near a flame again. Leaping away from the wall as well as they could while curled into a ball, they whipped around, yelping in pain, and aimed the extinguisher at nothing at all, skittering backwards in the same motion-   
Until they ran into Sticks. Huddling into a ball against the other mini's legs, they clung tight to the extinguisher, trembling so hard it clack-clack-clacked against their chassis, vents wheezing unpleasantly as their fans revved far past what they should. They were panicking, clearly, completely past any sort of logic, still trying to escape from something that wasn't there. There was nothing to put out, but they were definitely still acting as though something was wrong- partly because they couldn't  _ tell _ . Their glasses were flickering unevenly, jostled loose out of the plugs, clearly askew. They couldn't see anything, just flashing lights, stabs of images darting by.

 

Notepad's impact with their frame almost knocked Sticks over, luckily they managed to catch themself with a well placed step back. They used the momentum instead to crouch forward and get a better look at what was going on, simultaneously offering their frame as proximity comfort. Up close they could finally see what was wrong, "Burned," they said aloud. Their own problems could wait, this one needed immediate help. They pushed back the dark thoughts creeping into their mind and gently put a servo on Notepad's shoulder. Voice wavering slightly but low, they tried to sound as calm as they could, "You're gonna be alright. We need to get this under cold water, now. I'm gonna get you to the showers but I need you to cooperate with me, I can't lift you on your own."    
With that they slipped their other servo under Notepad's elbow and slowly but firmly guided them back to standing, "you can keep the fire extinguisher if you like but just-" they took a step towards the showers, pulling slightly at Notepad's good arm, "walk with me."

 

Notepad jolted at the touch, not having recognized that they'd run into a person, but immediately leaned into the contact. And the idea-  _ water _ . Letting go of the extinguisher (too heavy), they whimpered softly and stood up, reaching up to their face to try and-   
It worked. Their glasses settled back into place, the medbay came into view, and an iota of tension bled out of their frame as they fully registered that there was no fire. Still- water. A shower. If they were being sprayed with water, many forms of fire could no longer get at them. They should go and be in the water.    
Panting harshly, they leaned on Sticks, albeit a bit carefully as they realized that this was someone smaller than them. Somewhat in height, mostly in  _ weight _ , they were surprisingly dense for one of their size. Didn't want to hurt anyone, but definitely needed support- putting weight on their leg hurt, and it brought the unpleasant sensation of loose paint scraping against sensors.    
Once in the shower, Notepad gasped in pain and flinched away from the water a few times, but forced through the pain to be completely surrounded by water. Looking thoroughly miserable but slightly less outright panicked, they hugged themself and stood under the water, helm low, the flowing liquid rinsing away many of the loose flecks of paint. That helped slightly, the pain, the sensations. Cold. Good.    
...who was this, now?

 

Sticks almost smiled at feeling Notepad calm slightly and held them close until they seemed accustomed to the water. They sighed, all things considered, they could deal with this. Nothing like Longrange's nanites dousing their frame. They slowly released Notepad's arm, tracing their fingers around to hold their servo instead as they walked around their front to survey how the burn was doing. They'd need to get the singed paint chips out of there at some point but they couldn't do that with their fingers. A closer wash would probably help some.    
Sticks leaned over to grab one of the lower showerheads from the wall, turning the flow control knob with a very lucky swipe of their thumb. They set it to the lowest pressure and played with the temperature controls on the wall until it was a chill lukewarm but not outright cold. "I'm going to try to clean this out a bit more before we go to treat it," they said softly, stealing a split-klik glance at Notepad's face before the twinge in their chassis reminded them that optic contact felt dramatically wrong at the moment, "It probably won't be very pleasant but I'm right here, tell me or squeeze my servo if you need me to stop." Now that they drew attention to it, they realized their servo was shaking, just enough to be felt, so much for confident appearances.

 

Up close, the burn wasn't too bad. The paint was a lost cause, but the plating underneath was unaffected aside from some light singe marks. Not too bad, not too bad, it was okay, it was fine- they tried to focus on that, but that involved focusing on the fact that they were injured, on the fear and the pain. They were not one with a high pain tolerance. They tried, they tried to endure it, but it  _ hurt _ , and they whined under their breath a few times before tightly squeezing Sticks' servo and flinching away. They were in pain, they wanted to stop, stop, stop, stop-    
It stopped, and Notepad whimpered in relief, slowly sinking down onto the floor. The water from above, though they shifted to avoid the strongest of it on their burnt flank, had rinsed a fair amount of the paint flakes off. Shuddering, they tucked themself up into a slightly smaller ball, still holding Sticks' servo- though it was a bit more gently. Which was how they noticed the trembling. Oh. Quiet, they looked up at Sticks again, pushing their glasses into place more firmly, and shivered their winglets to shake away the water from the padding on them. A few deep vents, and, now given something else to focus on, they began to relax further. This was important. There was- not a patient, not officially, but someone who needed some help. Shifting to gently hold Sticks' servo between their own, they looked up at the smaller bot from their spot on the ground, voice soft and shaky but definitely at least  _ there _ . "Hey. You're- something's wrong. Has- has something happened? You're- you're the- the new medic, yes? Are you all- all right?"

 

Forced into optic contact now, Sticks drew their servo away. Something seemed to sink in their chassis. They sucked in a tense breath through their dentae and looked away, focusing instead on the burn, "N-nothing's happened. No." They closed their optics to quash the mental image from creeping up in their head again, "I'm, uhh, this looks clean enough. I'm gonna go... get a towel. Please stay... okay while I'm gone."    
Sticks winced slightly, their flimsy script was already falling apart. They gave Notepad a quick pat on the shoulder before fleeing out of the stall door. They half-jogged towards the nearest set of cabinets and pulled out a towel. Who  _ was _ this mech-asking if they were okay? They looked back at them through the open shower door, at least they seemed to be calming down, that's what mattered. They took a deep breath and jogged back, trying to put their mind back in order, remember the steps for treating a burn. They had somewhat of a grasp on it by the time they reached Notepad again.    
Little drops of water had dotted the floor in front of the doorway in their absence. Sticks held the towel behind their back to keep it moderately dry and inched towards the wall to turn off the water. The thought crossed their mind to ask first before going straight into drying Notepad off, but it was too quickly swallowed up by defensive numbness to be processed properly. They threw the towel over Notepad's back and diligently rubbed the unburned areas dry. They slowly made their way around the unburned side to Notepad's front, staying clear of their face and helm. They murmured a soft "up" and motioned, with the towel in both servos, for them to stand.

 

Notepad was considerably less than convinced. Pulled out of their panic by having something to do, they watched Sticks go and come back, making a tiny, adorable noise at being swamped in towel. "Oh- goodness. You're- no, I'm- I'm sorry, but I- mmf."    
Hard to talk while being toweled dry. Notepad went quiet for a moment or two, thinking, considering the situation, trying to figure it out. Hm- no. Definitely not okay. Lifting their helm slightly, they stood up when it was requested, standing a bit oddly but looking considerably better. "No. I'm- I am sorry, but I am a therapist, and something. Has happened. You are- well," they sighed, quietly reluctant to push but even more reluctant to  _ not _ ask, and pushed their glasses back into place to get a better look.    
Actually, no, their glasses were dirty. Removing their glasses outright and lowering but not closing their 'optics', they reached back and polished the lense covers clean against the fabric lining the inner sides of their winglets, then replaced their glasses in the plugs and followed Sticks as requested. "-something is- is wrong. And it's... quite early, isn't it? May I guess at a nightmare?"

Pushing at this sort of thing wasn't always a good plan, but they couldn't be expected not to push right now, not reasonably. And Sticks, well- they didn't seem like much of a threat, or terribly prone to aggression. "It's quite all right- I strongly suspect no one alive hasn't- hasn't had nightmares recently. Our... collective consciousness, as it were, our consciousness as a species, is reeling. I'm- I'm hardly in any place to appraise anything, to be of too much help, but I-I may be able to offer some basic reassurance, and I..."    
They trailed off for a moment, then spoke again, much quieter, a bit timidly. "...I-I think it's reasonable to, ah. Ask why, exactly, the... medical professional currently assisting me is... clearly in distress. I do apologize. I don't know you, or... what to expect of you. And I've learned, it- it was one of the first things I learned, to- to be very careful when people I don't know are behaving as- as if something is wrong. Responses to distress vary wildly. You- you may be familiar with that."

 

Sticks sighed and knelt down to gently pat-dry Notepad's good leg, don't want to stay too long there. They couldn't conceal the heaviness they felt and after sufficiently drying their patient off, sat down on the floor, defeated, offering them the towel "Alright, yes, it was a nightmare. The medbay and all its occupants are fine and in working order. Nobody has died or is seriously hurt. Nothing to do with you or anyone... else." they paused for a bit as Forceps's smiling face flashed in their mind. They frowned and shook their head, "Dry your face if you want to, otherwise I'll can get you to a berth, sort out those burns."    
They weren't about to dump their feelings on a patient, not  _ again. _ This patient may have said they were a therapist but right now they were injured and it was Sticks's duty to help them. Besides it... really didn't paint their partner in a good light. Who has nightmares about someone who has never done anything to them? Who has nightmares about someone they love- someone who seems to do everything in their power to protect them? Forceps would never hurt them, they knew that so  _ why. _ Guilt burned at the back of their throat. They couldn't think about this right now. Later,  _ later. _ They looked down and leaned their forehead on their arm, taking a quavering breath.  _ Not now. _

 

Notepad took the towel and scrubbed it against their face, a bracing gesture more than anything else, thinking this over. Nightmare. Yes. Not surprising. A pause, though. Someone else? Someone else had evidently participated somehow.    
They might have been a bit awkward in public sometimes, but they were most definitely empathetic, and both genetics and experience made them good at reading people. The hesitance at "anyone else", and- oh. That- that was definitely a noise of someone struggling to hold themself together. Notepad debated, with their face in the towel, throwing it over Sticks, but decided quickly that it was too damp and too full of paint chips to be all that comforting.    
So. What was it? What was the problem? Clearly it was the content of the nightmare- those were emotions. Proper, thorough emotions. Most nightmares, though unnerving, didn't leave any real emotions in their wake. The ones that did... hm. In this point in time, there was a decent chance that was trauma-related. That could be it.    
Sticks was on the ground now, so, lowering the towel, Notepad crouched to get back down on their level. Best not to tower over people if one could help it. Though Notepad didn't really 'tower' over anyone, even Sticks. Definitely some strong emotions, and-    
Guilt.    
A nightmare, bringing guilt.    
The "someone else" was not a threat, then.

A long moment of silence, then Notepad spoke, encouraged a fraction by the lack of any negative response to their nudging. "I am going to... guess at some things. Consider them educated guesses, aided by... what I can feel of your guilt. You had a nightmare, and it... involved someone who you wouldn't expect to be in your nightmares. Someone who you, at least, like somewhat. Which means... probably that was a nightmare about either you being hurt, or them being hurt. I suppose it's.... possible you were remembering a situation that actually happened, where they were hurt and you didn't manage to stop it. But I think... it might be..."    
A pause, shifting weight off their singed leg, and they spoke even quieter. As if it was secret advice, almos. "...it might be thanks to an unfortunate tendency of processors to take what we already know and try to use it to develop future strategies for avoiding danger. Sometimes, especially in those with some form of trauma, that manifests as... a nightmare that is meant, though rarely manages, to teach us what we could hypothetically do if we turned on a familiar person. Or if they turned on us. Neither of those is... any indication of what we actually expect to happen. The subconscious is a very strange thing, and, especially when previously stressed, manifests increasingly improbable situations in dreams and nightmares. Am I close?"

 

Sticks curled up a bit more, "close." Were they that easy to read? A stone seem to have lodged itself behind their spark. They wanted to stop thinking about this. They wanted to stop being everybody's case study. They wanted to be able to handle honest questions for  _ once. _ They just. They wanted to be okay.    
But first and foremost, right now Sticks wanted to cry. Not that they could do so with this hurt stranger telling them about themself. "All due respect, sir. You're very clever but I have a job to do. I'm going to treat your burns, send you on your way or to your own room here if you want to stay, and then I'm going to go find an empty corner and cry in it." Even as they said this they realized they didn't really want to be alone. There was something very calming, very lucid about the way this stranger spoke. Sounds like they didn't lie about being a therapist. Plus the idea of talking with any of the other medics about this was enough to cause them to visibly grimace. No, too close.   
Sticks stood up again at last, taking the used towel in their servos, they rolled the cloth between their fingers and thumb, starting to pull themself together again, just enough to get the job done, "I hate to admit this but I fear I won't be able to treat you much longer if you continue prodding. And-" they sighed and gave a weary look to the top of Notepad's helm, "what kind of medic would I be if I left my patient untreated?"   
This stranger seemed better now, probably not in need of Sticks's most delicate treatment. They walked out of the door and waited for Notepad to follow, absentmindedly drying their shoulders and legs with the towel, "I'm gonna get you settled in a berth, do you think you'll need my help getting over there?" They pointed a tired finger at the nearest berth to the showers.

 

Something was definitely not right with with Sticks. They'd been badly shaken up. Poor bot. But... they seemed aware, coherent. Upset, but thinking. It might help Sticks to be given something to do. This was-   
Notepad glanced down at their side, then looked away, nausea tangibly roiling out from their frame for a moment. Well. It hurt somewhat, but it wasn't going to require any particularly long treatment. They could wait for a little while. "All right, but we'll talk after this is treated. After all- what kind of therapist would I be if I left someone to go and cry in a corner alone?" they asked softly, and carefully stood up. It hurt, of course it hurt, and they had to lean on the wall a couple of times to take the weight off their sore leg, but they got there. Panting softly, they slumped onto the berth and curled up slightly, shuddering until the pain ebbed. "Ahh... ow. Ow. I... really, I do not like fire. It's... please excuse my- my earlier behavior. I have a... rather intense phobia of flames, and it was somewhat agitated by... this whole situation. I do apologize, and I will put the extinguisher back in its spot before I leave."    
Tucked up into a smallish ball, they stayed quiet and still as possible as Sticks began to work, but whimpered quietly now and then and flinched occasionally. They tried to hold still,  they did! But there was a limit to what they could do. This hurt. "Nnh- ah. Ow. Ah, that- ow, ow, I-  _ ah _ \- stop, stop, please-"

 

Sticks quickly pulled their servos away and held them up for Notepad to see. They'd stopped! In one servo they held a tin of burn cream, the other's fingers were coated in the stuff. They grimaced and looked at Notepad's face, realizing they'd been spoiled by the Choir's collective high pain tolerance, "You're... uh... doing great. There's only a little bit more left and then I can bandage everything up. If you think you can hang on just a little more we can get this over with pretty quick, if not..." they set the tin down on the berth and absentmindedly scratched the back of their neck with two un-gooped fingers, "I could see about finding some local anesthetic, some kind of spray would be nice but I... don't know where it's stored. Could take a while to find it. Or- I dunno, you could do that part, if you're feeling up to it. That way you can stop when you feel it get too much."   
They realized they were falling back on bad habits, they were  _ really _ unprofessional. Since when does a medic let a patient do their job? Poor mech, deserved better than them. They could feel their every twinge of pain, every wince in their gut. "I'm sorry I'm not gentler," they murmured, almost to themself, "I think we caught each other at bad times, what a way to meet, huh."

 

"Oh, it's... it's not your fault, dear, you- I-I can see you're trying," Notepad sighed, then, servos gripping the berth padding for support, hid their face slightly and nodded. "Ah. Please, I would like- like to get this over with. Continue. I... can't do it myself, my- my servos are- are shaking rather badly. Happens if- if I've had a fright. You're helping. Just- continue."

It still hurt, and they whimpered softly as Sticks continued, but they managed to stand it until they were done. Groaning quietly in relief as the ointment soaked in, they offlined their glasses and laid still, limp, the ointment doing its job on their burns. Glasses still off, they turned slightly towards Sticks, facing them, and spoke softly as they loosened their grip on the berth. "I'm... oh. Thank you. We haven't met, I'm-" time to try and make a good impression, and they propped themself up with an elbow, wincing slightly but offering their servo (which had escaped the flames) to shake. "Notepad. Ah-" a slight retreat "-or do you prefer not to shake servos? It's no problem if so. Patches mentioned you weren't. Ah. Originally born to be a medic. So I'm- I'm not sure what your servos may currently be like," they commented softly, finally onlining their glasses again, and shifted to be slightly more upright. Sticks seemed... guilty, again, not doing great. "And you're- you're quite right! Neither of us is, uh... all- all that happy right now, and-" they began, then chuckled, offering Sticks the tiniest smile. "And- and we both, immediately, tried to help the other. Oh, goodness, we're- we're a pair," Notepad giggled, slumping back onto the berth, starting to look vaguely giddy in the aftermath of the adrenaline surge. "Oh- oh no. My goodness, we- ohh," they squeaked, giggling rather helplessly, their expression somewhere between amusement and something like their former distress. They'd never developed a... coherent sort of adrenaline response, nothing helpful, only this helpless giggling afterward.

 

Sticks couldn't help a slight smile as they began to wipe their servos clean with a spare rag, "So you're Notepad, huh? I've heard your name passed around before but never got the chance to put a name to a face. You did make a... pretty great distraction." They gave a wry chuckle until the stone in their chassis felt the need to reassert itself, at which point they fell to silently cleaning their finger joints. The activity was almost therapeutic until- they closed their optics tight to try to banish the ghost of the feeling of lifted plating. When they opened them again, they deemed their work good enough and turned to Notepad, finally extending their servo to meet the other's, holding gently but firmly, "So Patches has told you about me? I'm surprised he never told you that I'm apparently the only medic who insists on servo-shakes," they paused and looked towards Notepad's face, "Don't worry about em quite yet. I doubt you'd grip hard enough to hurt, only gotta worry about bigger mechs."   
Introductions officially over with, Sticks picked up one of the many bandages they'd grabbed in preparation and set to wrapping Notepad's singed bits, padding over the particularly singed areas with a bit of mesh first. They worked in silence, their mind blank, focusing entirely on the repetitions. When at last they were finished, they let out a short sigh, moved the detritus to the nearest rolling cart- the disposal was too far away- and propped themself up on the end of the berth next to Notepad. They knew what the therapist would want, but the idea of sorting through everything appeared to them as if they were atop a miles-high precipice. It was dizzying, vertigo-inducing. They closed their optics and let their head fall to their chassis, "Like we agreed. I'll indulge you."

 

"In passing, one of his five-points-at-once conversations," Notepad explained, wincing slightly, and offered whatever was requested of them to continue their treatment. The helpless giggling eased up eventually, and they slowly, carefully sat up, sitting cross-legged. Somewhat gingerly, they shifted their weight until they were comfortable, allowing the last of the bandages to be positioned. That didn't hurt much, not with the ointment sinking in and coating sensor tips.    
Once they were done, they sighed quietly and gestured to the end of the berth near Sticks, voice softening to something low and soothing. "I would ordinarily be in my alt, it's a couch that I'm told is very comfortable, but... I am currently bandaged too much for that. Please, sit. If you are a tactile person and would like something to touch... I am entirely willing to move closer and let you touch what is visible of my alt," they offered, dropping their shoulder and twisting slightly to show their winglets. The outsides were typical smooth metal, but the inner edges, the ones facing each other, were coated in plush fabric with some padding underneath. "Your choice. I will not pressure you. And, let me be clear..."

Glasses dimming in a manner meant to resemble a softening expression, they cocked their helm slightly, watching Sticks. "I am not going to judge you. For anything, but especially not for this. I have had patients describe to me, in detail, what they did to those closest to them in a nightmare. Or what their close ones did to them. Nightmares sometimes manifest from deep fears, but their presence does not mean, in any way, that you would harm someone or that you expect them to harm you. With that in mind, please, Sticks... tell me what happened. No need for any details, but... if you can tell me what is happening, I... may be able to help you work through it. At the very least, bringing a nightmare out of the darkness can help to ease its sting. Tell me about it, and... we will see if that helps."

 

Sticks took a deep, shaking, breath and grabbed a servo-ful of blanket to worry between their fingers, "Well, there's... something to address first, to put things in context. I don't know quite what Patches told you... about  _ why _ my servos are the way they are. It wasn't... exactly an optional procedure. I mean it was by all accounts an upgrade and I'm slated for more in the future but they were- my old ones, they were...  _ ugly. _ They were-" they trailed off as the picture of their old servos sitting in a box floated back into their mind, icy floes dripped down their chassis, had it been so long that was the only way they could remember them? they coughed to clear the fist in the back of their throat, "skeletal, nothing but struts and some very small cables. I w- I was" breath fled from behind their lips, they closed their optics as another wave of emotion wracked their frame, "I was t-tortured. Sometimes I have nightmares about it and they  _ suck _ but nothing,  _ nothing _ like this."    
Sticks couldn't hold it in anymore as images from their nightmare rushed at them. They gasped an ugly sob as  their optics began to spark, their voice broke, "It... it was my partner instead. All I could do was watch as they- they." They couldn't bring themself to say it out loud. They frowned deeply and grit their dentae, they would say it. They'd known it before, they could face it once again, "they pulled apart my new servos, took off the plates one by one until there was nothing left."

 

Oh, that was a nasty one, wasn't it? Notepad extended the edge of their carefully controlled field, offering  _ comfort/reassurance/sympathy _ , and edged slightly closer. Normally they'd have a patient  _ on _ them, that did something for the urge to hold someone close. Definitely weren't about to touch without consent- regardless of the benefits of physical contact, it was inappropriate unless requested, and potentially alarming for most. Especially anyone smaller than them. "Well, then. It's no wonder you're upset," they soothed, their voice still that soft, easy tone, a bit of sympathy slipping into it. "I am sorry. Now, Sticks... listen to me."    
Edging closer to speak in a near-whisper, they almost purred down at Sticks, focusing on calming them down. "That is a very good reason to be upset. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being upset right now... you've experienced an echo of something terrible. Big breaths, Sticks. Relax. There is  _ absolutely _ no need to be guilty here, understand? Your processor is trying to cope with what happened to you, potentially trying to figure out what to do if it should happen again. It's not uncommon for loved ones to show up in dreams like that- either out of fear of hurting them somehow, because they somehow remind someone of what happened, or... simply because they're a person you frequently see. It  _ happens _ . It's unpleasant, to be sure, but there's no need for you to be guilty."

Pulsing their field stronger in a warm surge of  _ sympathy/comfort/safety _ , they edged the last bit closer, putting themself at a point where, if Sticks chose, they could initiate contact in any of a dozen ways. "And it's understandable that you're upset, but you don't  _ need _ to be upset right now. This is not something you have to endure. Instead... I am going to suggest that you let someone help you. I know a few people on the ship who will happily offer you physical comfort, with no questions asked, and I am willing if all you want is something minor like someone to lean against. Suppressing your emotions is unhealthy, but... it is not unhealthy to ease them away with something else. Do you think it would help if you were to talk to your partner right now, Sticks, or would that be too much of a reminder?" they asked softly, glasses dimming, and purred a light noise in the back of their throat. "If they're a reasonable person, I'm sure they'd understand that it isn't anything to do with them. It... might help to banish the darkness if you can show yourself the truth of the light."

 

Sticks took Notepad's proximity as an invitation to lean on them, resting their head against the other's shoulder. They took a shuddering breath and just listened to Notepad's voice, nodding occasionally. They were making sense. It was a response, a fabricated one to a threat that was long gone but also too close. It wasn't them. Sticks sighed. It wasn't either of them. They tensed when Notepad said their final suggestion, "No n-no. I couldn't- I couldn't face them. I don't want to make them worry. They've gotta sleep."    
Very suddenly Forceps's voice flickered into their mind, spliced with the mental image of one of their finger plates as it was torn from their frame, the connection bending slightly, like tearing off an insect's wing  _ you're doing so well... _ It felt as if they had taken a shell to the chassis. They tensed their entire frame, pushing their face into Notepad's shoulder with a desperate sob, "Why does it have to hurt so much," static blanketed their voice, "The entire time they were talking to me -they  _ praised _ me in this... sweet voice as they tore me apart. They..." Sticks could barely speak between the sobs, "Notepad, they... they told me they loved me. It's all I've  _ ever _ wanted to hear."

 

Forceps, when they woke up, invariably checked the medbay security feed on a datapad. Just to get an idea what was going on, to check and make sure they weren't about to walk into something private. And it was a good thing they'd checked, apparently- Sticks was talking to Notepad, Notepad doing that "I am here and caring" thing that was so effective despite how silly it looked to Forceps. Best to let them alone, probably a private conversation, best to at least turn off the audio feed-   
And then Sticks pushed further into Notepad in what was clearly a gesture of distress, and Forceps' sawlets snapped up in automatic fury, hard enough that their whole frame shifted as their sawlets smacked into the wall. The fingertip meant to turn the sound off turned it up instead, just in time to hear everything, and the 'pad cracked under Forceps' fingertips.    
.   
"Oh. Oh, dear," Notepad whispered, easing their arms around Sticks, and gave them a gentle squeeze- just enough to be felt, not enough to trap them. "Oh. I am so sorry. I... don't know right away how to help you with that. But I... well. I hear a lot, Sticks, and I'm... quite sure I know who we're talking about here. If I'm right, it's... well. They're not one to... vocally express strong emotions, are they? Or vocally express much of anything. I... can't help with the nightmare right now, and I... can't help with... well. If it's the person I think, you may never hear them say something as... emotion-laden as that out loud. But- I think you need to tell them. I'm fairly sure you aren't going to be able to hide whatever your response is to seeing them after this, and they are going to  _ worry _ . And if it's who I think, they may come to the worst possible conclusion. Sticks, I... think you may need to... oh. Oh dear. Ah. Right now, you may, ah. Want to turn around."    
.

Forceps had  no  _ fucking _ idea what to do about that. About anything. About the fact that they were too pissed to talk. But, dear Primus- what were they supposed to do? Sit here and watch this on a tiny, broken screen while Sticks suffered? Put the 'pad away and pretend it wasn't happening?    
Forceps had never been one to pretend that something wrong wasn't happening. And that? Sticks being allowed to stay that upset? That was  _ wrong _ . Sawlets up and trembling in a blend of multiple raging emotions, they stalked out of their room and to the door to the medbay, only stopping -well, pausing- in the doorway when they realized that. Well. They had... no idea what to do, still.    
The urge to retreat and try to figure it out surged, but was drowned by determination. Pinging Sticks' COMM rapid-fire, wordless signals as an alert that they were here, they slowly walked over to the berth, crouched next to it, and tried,  _ tried _ to meet Sticks' gaze. Optics burning, sawlets beginning to spin, claws digging into the edge of the berth, field a wall of  _ intensity _ regardless of their inability to identify any of the component emotions. Or their inability to speak or to put together any sort of sentence over COMMs.

 

Sticks's optics wrenched open at the pings. They whipped around to watch Forceps march to their side. Part of them was horrified, they'd wanted to deal with this on their own so Forceps never had to know, never had to worry about them, never had to deal with their processor turning them into a villain but now... "F-Forceps, hhhhow much... how much did you hear?" they tried to keep calm, but their voice wavered and broke, disintegrating into almost nothing.    
The other part of them wanted so, so deeply to feel their partner's arms around them, to be with them,  to let Forceps guard them from their nightmares. Their arms ached at the missing sense. But did-did they deserve that? Somewhere deep down their processor had made that connection, and sought something their partner could not give. Their spark became a solitary island, flooded, drowned by a hurricane of guilt as it all came back. Their servo trembled as they reached out to put it lightly on Forceps's wrist. They let their helm hang down and covered their mouth with their other servo as they silently sobbed. At last they spoke again, just the barest whisper, slipping muffled from behind their servo, "I'm sorry."

 

Something in Forceps' spark wrenched at having upset Sticks further by trying to help, but they pressed on with the just-formed idea. This was a significant thing, they had significant emotions burning to be let out, trapped by their lack of ability to speak- and, probably, Sticks' inability to understand if they signed! Not that medic-chat even  _ had _ all that many ways to express emotion, let alone any that seemed strong enough.    
So, Forceps took the overly direct route to communicating the emotions trying to flutter their way out of Forceps' spark. Something like that thrumming that had alarmed them before was back, but hotter,  _ angrier _ , and it felt as though if they didn't get it out they were going to burst. So they let it out. Literally. With the beginnings of the transformation to put their chassis plating aside.   
Notepad, who had been looking very concerned, squeaked in outright  _ mortification _ and turned away. " _ Forceps _ ! What are you-"    
Forceps ignored it. Despite the flutter of paranoia about being so exposed, they finished the transformation, their chassis plating sliding completely aside to bare their inner workings. Not their whole spark chamber, not  _ quite _ , that might be too much, but the thin, delicate, spiraled-closed plating that protected it, gaps in the plating showing glimmers of spark light. Blushing furiously and  _ trembling _ against the urge to close up, to  _ hide _ , both from the world and from  _ Sticks _ , from the sheer intensity of their own feelings, they slowly, carefully took Sticks' servos...

And brought both palms up against the thin armor over their rapidly fluttering spark. Hotter than just about anywhere else on their frame, buzzing with the core of their EM field and with the almost-liquid static that came from nothing else but a living spark. And  _ sensitive _ . This was strange, unnerving, new- they'd never,  _ never _ had someone touch this deep in their core for any reason other than to keep them  _ alive _ . But this? This was the only thing that felt  _ right _ .    
Slowly lifting their own servos but keeping Sticks' in place, they carefully, slowly signed out, careful not to muddy the words, fighting the urge to hide or pull away or cover their face- and they didn't quite, completely manage that, their battlemask snapped into place. But they managed to sign it out, pushing deliberately into Sticks' frame, optics locked on theirs.  _ "You. Have. My. Spark." _

 

Sticks's optics opened wide. Their thoughts vaporized, Notepad, the ambient sounds of the medbay, the very walls around them disappeared into background static. All there was, all that existed, was them and Forceps. They saw the intensity, the frustration, the courage in Forceps's optics. Their own spark jumped, picking up the entirety of Forceps's emotion in an empathetic response. It hit them in a warm wave, at once overwhelming and deeply comforting. Inevitably, their gaze darted to their servos for a split-klik and they processed the situation a bit more. A deep blush bloomed on their face. They could feel the gentle static dancing between their fingers. Their breath caught a bit as they looked down again, this time for longer, watching quietly as the violently flickering light of Forceps's spark illuminated the two of them from underneath.    
"And you have mine," slowly Sticks leaned to rest their forehead against Forceps's, closing their optics most of the way until all that was left was a brightly-glowing sliver. "How could I forget, a living spark is so... beautiful," Sticks whispered, just loud enough for Forceps to hear, "You're... you're so warm. It feels... wonderful." They turned their head to nuzzle Forceps on theirs. They felt something liquid travel down their cheek. Evidently they'd burned through their optical mesh. The drop of energon dripped off of Forceps's helm and landed in a neat circle on the floor.    
They stayed that way for a while, guarding Forceps's spark from the rest of the world, which came back to them bit by bit until once again they were sitting on a berth in the medbay, a horrified therapist at their side and their partner knelt next to them, chassis open. They retreated their servos reluctantly and instead brought them around Forceps's shoulders, pulling them into a soft, emphatic hug.

 

This was stupid, it was crazy, it was too forward and somehow sappy and overly literal at the same time, but it  _ worked _ . It  _ worked _ , and the tension bled out of Forceps' frame under an onslaught of relief. The paranoia flickered and died, and they melted against Sticks, frame still trembling hard but not in anything recognizable as any sort of emotions. Just... shaking. Optics shut tight, curled in slightly, their own lifesigns pounding in their audials and drowning everything else out. There was nothing here but Sticks, the floor, and the berth they were leaning against, and if not for the floor it felt like they could have fallen.    
They stayed like that for as long as Sticks wanted, delicate servos so close to their spark that its outer edges began to  _ reach _ , expecting attention. It couldn't quite touch, not with the armor still in the way, but its frantic fluttering stabilized a fraction and the patterns of visible light began to shift into something much calmer. Still fluttering quickly, Forceps still not quite knowing what they were doing on some level and all too aware of it on another, but stable.    
When the world began to include other things than Sticks, they carefully slunk up onto the berth, holding Sticks in their lap, not least as a shield against everything. Including, whoops, Notepad. Too late to care, so Forceps went with the opposite- very blatantly not caring at all, staring at Notepad as if daring them to say anything. It would have worked better if they hadn't been blushing so much.    
.

Notepad had covered their optics with both servos, and had then proceeded to remove their glasses entirely and cover the plugs with one servo, blushing nearly as much as Forceps. Sure, they knew Forceps, but nowhere near  _ that _ well! Not enough to be even glimpsing the other's  _ spark _ , goodness- what if someone else had walked in? After a few moments, they cautiously put their glasses back on and peeked between their fingers, only lowering their servos when they were sure there was nothing to see. That wasn't meant for them, after all. "...goodness," they squeaked, still looking vaguely shocked, a bit like someone had exploded a firecracker in their face. "That... well. Th-that was effective. I take it you heard most of- who's bleeding?"    
  
Forceps frowned slightly, running a mental self-check, and discovered that they were probably not bleeding. Which meant-   
  
Which meant Notepad squeaking and covering their optics again as Forceps abruptly leaned back, away from Sticks, grasping their shoulders in both servos to look them over and giving Notepad a rather good view of- oh, they'd forgotten to close up in their concern, and it could have been cute if not for how mortified Notepad was. So much  _ nudity _ .

 

"Bleeding?" Sticks murmured and touched a finger to their face, so it  _ was _ energon they'd felt, "mmm that's not ideal. I think I... burned out my optical mesh. Rough morning, huh." Their face looked, almost serene. After all this, the nightmare seemed a dark footnote. A slight smile played at their lips as they realized they could still see Forceps's spark. Their smile grew when they recognized it was less frenzied than before. They lightly drew their fingertips against Forceps's flank, trying to nonjudgmentally draw attention to the problem. Not that they had a problem with it, just- poor Notepad, Definitely didn't expect this when they stumbled into the medbay.   
When Sticks met Forceps's optics again, it was with courage on their face, "I want to apologize, I should have just told you instead of avoiding the problem. That was-umm, short sighted." they sucked in a bit, "And I want to say, no matter what hell my processor wants to cook up, I... trust you. I know you'll never hurt me. And-um I love you... very much." They shifted a bit and glanced at Notepad, "On another note I, uhh, treated Notepad for some burns before this whole thing started, if you want to doublecheck my work. I -hah- wasn't in the best mindset."

 

Whoops. Forceps shut their chassis rather abruptly, having realized that, not only was Notepad there, the cameras were absolutely still rolling. Pit. Well. They'd just have to... pretend this hadn't happened, actually, and not draw any attention to that portion of the video. Maybe go back and block off that bit of the footage as having sensitive content related to a patient, so it couldn't be easily watched. Taking Sticks' servos again, they guided them up to tuck under Forceps' chin, leaning into the sensation. Comfortable. Offering a tiny smile, they lifted their servos to sign  _ "likewise" _ , and only moved away slightly to check on Notepad.    
Notepad jumped slightly at a touch to their arm, surprised, then uncovered their optics again and offered Forceps a sheepish smile. "That was- oh, that  _ worked _ . I-I, ah- they- they did well! They were... somewhat upset, but they -ow- worked well. And did a good job of. Well. I had a... something of a fright. You've seen how- how I react sometimes. They worked well with, um. That. With me."    
Forceps checked the bandages in a few spot, easing them up to check underneath, then sighed deeply and turned back to Sticks. A slow, careful sign of  _ "you did well" _ , and they carefully stood up, optics soft as they looked down at Sticks. A few more deep vents, and they tried COMMing Sticks, which -fortunately- worked.  _.:You should have told me, yes. Please do not hide, it is not healthy and you are not sparing me. I want to know. I want to help. All right? Even nightmares. Nightmares can be... desperately upsetting, for anyone. I will not take it personally if I am involved. Just... let me know. Even if you don't want to give me any details other than 'nightmare'. Tell me. Please?:. _

 

Sticks smiled at Forceps, a tired smile but genuine nonetheless.  _.:I will. I know now, I will:. _ And they meant it. It was time they began to resolve some of their issues. They didn't want to feel that awful wave of guilt again once was enough. It occurred to them they would need to have a talk with Forceps later about certain long-unresolved matters but now, now wasn't the time. Especially considering what they'd just witnessed.    
Sticks then turned to Notepad, "and thank you. I know I wasn't especially grateful in the beginning but you really did help. And-uhh... Sorry it got so... intense. I think I've learned... part of a lesson. Or at least that- I wanna be better so that it doesn't take such... drastic measures the next time something fucks with me this bad. I mean it's just a nightmare- damn."    
Their fingers were getting antsy, they pulled Forceps in for another apologetic hug, still buzzing from everything that happened and craving their contact.  _.:Can't go back to sleep now, don't think I'd want to anyway. I guess this means the shift's started? But what to-:. _ They cut themself off. Absentmindedly scanning the room they had spotted the loose fire extinguisher. Giving Forceps a pat, they slowly pulled away to land on the ground and jogged over to where the extinguisher sat, hauling it over to its spot on the wall. They then grabbed the cart with the dirty rags and extra bandages on it and pushed that over to the waste disposal hatch and then the wrappings cabinet. They completed their circuit by jumping into Forceps's lap again, leaning into their chassis and slipping an arm around their shoulder, now with the satisfaction of having cleaned up loose ends.

 

"Your emotions are your emotions, and your responses to situations, real or hypothetical, are nothing to be ashamed of," Notepad contributed from where they were lying on the berth again. "If something upsets you, it upsets you. The goal here would be to try to decrease what's upsetting you, not try to decrease your natural responses. And, please-" they offered, slowly twisting around to put their winglets to where Sticks was- well, had been- sitting. "-you are a tactile one. Enjoy."    
Once Sticks was back, Forceps hummed the quietest noise and nudged their free arm towards the offered winglets, the deep, intense red of the soft fabric being offered.  _.:Go ahead, try it. It is a very, very nice texture. They are not the most tactile person, nor the most cuddly, but their alt is meant for a significant amount of contact and their winglets are not overly sensitive on the insides. They enjoy feeling someone relax while petting them. And it is worth trying, believe me, my Ember:. _ they purred, offering the cute pet name, trying everything they could think of to get Sticks to stay calm and relaxed.  _.:We don't necessarily need to start doing anything. I think... we ought to make sure we're both relaxed, first, before trying anything important. You should meet Notepad properly, as well. They're the ship's therapist, we tend to work rather closely with them. They do have some issues of their own, though. The phobia of flames- their alt is extremely vulnerable. Also a rodent phobia. Strong, but not unworkable, and improving. They are extremely competent as a therapist. But...:." _

A deep sigh, and Forceps lightly squeezed Sticks, deliberately not looking quite at Notepad. Not that they could tell anyway, they were facing away.  _.:...and, understand, I am telling you this ONLY because it may be relevant in future. We do not share this. The phobias are relatively evident and may be shared when it's relevant, but we do not tell anyone about this. It is up to them. They were... assaulted, by a patient, centuries ago. The patient claimed to be acting on a mutual attraction. A lie. That will, hopefully, never be relevant to anything, but... in case it is, now you know. They are largely doing well, but have some issues around proper interactions with patients, specifically the concept that there are far too few of us to maintain a professional difference. In other words, you need to make friends with them. You also need therapy, but we'll discuss that later. For now, be friendly and try that texture on their winglets. They will absolutely not think it strange if you decide to sit and pet them for however long you want:. _

 

_.:Fire I'd figured out, rodents also good to know. It's... unfortunate, i think is the only word that comes to mind, they had that experience but friends? I can do friends. I'm the best there is at friends:. _ Sticks grinned confidently and turned to Notepad, gently stroking the offered fabric, first with the side of their finger- it was. They flipped their servo around and began to pet with their fingertips - it  _ was _ nice. They let out a soft hum and set to absentmindedly petting, mirroring the motion with their other servo on Forceps's upper back. They were unwilling to let the other medic out of reach for long. Their frame was still calming down from all the excitement. They felt considerably closer to their partner and didn't want to break that closeness just yet.  _.:Forceps there's something I want to talk to you about. It's important but not immediately relevant and, I think, a little too involved to get into right now. But:. _ They paused to hug Forceps closer,  _.:I'm feeling bold. I don't want to hide things anymore. I want to be able to tell you before I get too scared to again. Remind me when you have time. Remind me to be brave:. _   
That finally off their chassis, Sticks focused their entire attention on the fabric, leaning in close to get a better look, "It's a beautiful color, Notepad. I didn't even know Cybertronians could exist naturally with fabric on them but." they smiled, "I guess life is full of surprises. Though I guess I haven't met many therapists either."

 

_.:Noted. It will probably not be out loud, but I can do that easily enough:. _ Forceps declared, and, shoving down the urge to push at and poke about whatever that was, tucked firmly against Sticks and stayed quiet. Mostly to think about what they'd just done and what this meant- for themself, for their feelings, for the future, for everything. Pit.    
Notepad hummed a quiet note, pleased, but made no effort to look over their shoulder or make optic contact. Enough time spent as a couch meant they barely even remembered to try for optic contact in casual conversations any more. "Thank you. It's certainly very rare- mostly because the only place it's useful is on furniture-alts. The closest thing you normally see is the padding and seats of bots with cockpits meant to carry passengers. Synthetic, of course- it's a part of my frame, as is the padding underneath. The padding has a tracery of nerves and energon lines inside, and I can feel the gist of someone's vitals, as well as their EM field, when they're on my alt. Remind me to show you once I'm no longer bandaged, medics usually find it interesting. And... almost invariably end up petting as much of me as they can reach. The texture is, I'm sure, designed to entice further contact."    
After a moment, they did glance over their shoulder, helm cocked to study Sticks as much as possible. "Have you met  _ any _ therapists? It wasn't exactly a common job even before things got... especially dangerous. A consequence of a society that places little to no value on mental health."

 

Sticks laughed sheepishly, "yeah hah, I haven't. Well, actually I dunno, before the war really got going I used to work in an archive, never really asked what people did there when they came in. I could have met some therapists. Really, the only ones who tended to announce themselves were politicians -an unusually proud lot." They shook their head and put their palm flat on a cushion, "Hmm it's barely noticeable but it holds heat different from regular fabric, it's... slightly warm, too. I don't think I would have picked up on it if you hadn't told me... Which is a weird thought" they resumed petting, more thoughtfully this time, "Forgive me if this is a strange question but have you ever... been mistaken? I mean sometimes it's hard to tell someone's alive in their alt mode if it's not a form people see regularly. But I feel like there are certain... stakes? I know a drone alt, the worst someone would do if they were just curious would be to touch them or pick them up. But furniture, people usually aren't aware enough to check before they sit down. And that- that's an even stranger thought."

 

"Oh, absolutely. No one expects a couch to be alive, and I have a tendency to shift into my alt if I plan to wait somewhere for a long while. I don't mind at all if people take a seat without realizing, that's what I'm for!" Notepad hummed, chuckling softly in the back of their throat. "Though it can be an issue if I need to go somewhere and someone's fallen asleep on me. I do have a holo-projector, I usually use it to project an image of myself for patients to talk to while on my alt- people like to have someone to talk to. It tends to startle folks somewhat to have a hologram materialize right next to them. Mostly I..." a slight wince "only mind if people start making out on me. It... really isn't their fault! Not if they haven't met me. But it's, oh, not... pleasant. Not least for the potential of stains. My self-repair and maintenance nanites can handle stains and damage, but I really do prefer not to. Other than that, I don't mind at all. I enjoy the weight and the life-signs. The pressure. My blankets are weighted, that's... always nice. I do wish I had those now," they sighed, curling up slightly, "but I suspect that would hurt at the moment. It... really is quite nice, though. The weight is pleasant, I can feel their EM field and some of their vital signs, and it..."

They went silent for a moment, then shrugged carefully, perking their winglets slightly in a silent offer. "It's what my frame thinks I was born to do. There is, for some, an instinctive enjoyment of doing what one's frame is ideally created to do. I like being useful. That was... one of the arguments for Functionalism, that enjoyment. Nonsense, of course, arguing that because some enjoy serving their so-called 'birth purpose' that all should do the same, but the enjoyment is no less present. Actually, would you..."    
Notepad hesitated for a moment longer, slightly uncertain, then offered Sticks a timid smile. "-would you mind leaning on whatever un-burned portion of me is comfortable for you? This- the petting, I enjoy. I can feel it, and I enjoy being calming. I would very much like you to continue if you want to, but I would... also like some pressure if you don't mind. And  _ especially _ if that might be something you enjoy, I... do like to be useful. Instinct, probably, but no matter. Still quite nice."

 

Sticks couldn't help but laugh at the idea of being caught under two strangers getting frisky, "oh no  _ stains. _ that's terrible." They let out an amused snicker and leaned their forearm on Notepad's shoulder, "and, don't worry about being so formal, I'm happy to oblige." They realized they were now straddled between the two bots, not close enough to properly cuddle either. This wouldn't do. Their optics dashed from Notepad to Forceps to Notepad again. If they had their pick they would have clung Forceps. They seemed distant, even more contemplative than usual. After all that they definitely weren't about to  _ let go _ of their partner, not when they absolutely needed the contact. Curse their short arms. They couldn't see why they had to choose.   
Sticks considered holding Forceps's servo instead, briefly, until they realized that not only was that playing with fire, it wasn't enough. They wanted  _ more, _ not less. They withdrew their servo a little, petting Forceps's shoulder a bit- just enough to get their attention, "You wanna scoot in a bit, babe?" their voice came out soft, gentle, as they lightly traced the lines underneath their fingers. They'd figured Forceps would need some time to think, and didn't expect much of a response.

 

Forceps stirred and made a quiet noise at Sticks, like a cat nudged out of sleep, blinking a couple of times as they mentally rebooted. Left without much of an idea what to do, still, they slumped against Sticks' frame again, looking down at Notepad. "Furniture alts- very rare. The majority of alts are vehicles of one sort or another, then tool-alts, then immobile alts like mine, then furniture alts. Usually a bit more dense than one would expect from their frame, for durability. Often a considerable amount of their alt is subspaced, and only the base structure is incorporated into their root mode," they hummed, seeming much calmer now. They were still... sort of clueless here, but this was a medical fact. Simple. Interesting. Educational, as a bonus.    
"Mm. Just glad I haven't had anyone with any sort of, ah, textile fetish mistake me for an inanimate object. That would be, ohh," Notepad groaned, now lying somewhat facedown on the berth, relaxing considerably as the weight on their frame increased. They had to be careful not to move anything that was currently sore, but... oh, that was good. That was very, very good. The quietest groan, and they offlined their glasses for a moment, a small engine purring somewhere in their chassis. "Oh. That is. Lovely. Thank you. The, ah- heh. The engine is partially to lift the helm side of my alt, but mostly it serves to make purring noises and help my patient relax. To your liking?"   
Forceps slumped gently against both smaller frames, quietly offering their weight as reassurance. "Now- they aren't in the best shape to inspect right now, but Notepad is a good anatomical example, given their rare alt. It's very probable that they're the only furniture-alt alive, partially due to their rare frametype and partially due to it being a... less than war-ready frame class. Study them when you get the chance and they're feeling up to it."

 

"You have an engine so people can be more relaxed around you, you've got good fabric to touch, you're just the right size, you're basically genetically predisposed to being the perfect friend and cuddle buddy. Gonna give me a run for my money," Sticks said as they resumed petting Notepad's winglet, they decided they would absolutely come back the second their servos were upgraded with more sensors, "I'm still baffled at how we both pulled ourselves together somewhat the second we saw someone hurting. -Never had someone do that on me, so used to doing it myself."

Sticks shifted their arm around Forceps to gently pet the back of their helm, .:How're you holding up, Songbird?:. They commed without making optic contact, wanting at once to check in and not to put too much pressure on them. They spent a few moments in thought and finally spoke again, "It's interesting. With archivists, alt mode really doesn't matter, there's no set type -or well, once people started cold-constructing archivists things changed a bit, but! The most important part was the servos. They're very specialized, each finger split into two or three separate parts, made data entry and programming a breeze once you were trained a bit," they sighed, it was bittersweet nostalgia, they were proud of where they came from, "so if you grew up with servos like those, no matter your size or your alt, you'd become some kind of data-wrangler. Spade still has theirs, you could probably talk em into showing you if you haven't seen a pair already."

Notepad's engine-purr hitched slightly louder at the praise, and their field fluttered quiet happiness. Oh. "I- thank you. I'm- I'm not sure about the friend part, I can be... somewhat awkward, but I am made to be pleasant to touch. As for the calmness, I... oh. I-I must admit, that was... well. Most of my upset was phobia-based. I am quite vulnerable to flames in my alt mode. Phobias, being innately irrational, are somewhat easier to dismiss than other things. A distraction, especially an important one, can help considerably. You were important." 

.:Well, I just showed my spark chamber to the local therapist in probably the most dramatic reaction I could have had to something, short of somehow blowing myself up. Not sure how I feel about that:. Forceps declared, leaning into the contact rather gratefully, and sighed heavily. .:At least they're used to... a lot of things from patients. Still. Dear Primus, that was... a lot. Stop making me have ridiculous emotions!:. they scolded, not quite meaning it, and covered their face. .:Hopefully they can talk to me in future without picturing that:. 

Notepad contemplated things for a moment, then winced, making a bit of a face. "No, I haven't seen intact servos like that. I treated a patient who had servos like that before an incident with some... particularly aggressive rats. In many areas, the wire-rats evolved around battlefields to take full advantage of corpses, and of bots too disabled to get away from them. Horrifying. Completely... and utterly..." a massive shudder, accompanied by a whimper of pain at jostling everything "horrifying. Ohh dear Primus, please be careful around mass burials, those rats are still present and can grow massive, they- they are very aggressive in large groups. Corpse rats, people call them now, and they- they will go after living beings."

 

Sticks couldn't help but smile slightly at the whole situation, .:They don't seem the judgmental sort and, seeing how they're acting now, it's likely they've seen worse. I mean- they aren't trying to leave, thankfully. What's done is done. I doubt Notepad would tell anyone. I won't- well...:. Sticks trailed off and stopped petting for a klik, then resumed, leaning in a little closer to Forceps's helm, .:the only person I would tell is Bowline and she wouldn't tell anyone. If you just want to keep it between us three as damage mitigation that's understandable:. they smirked  .:I guess in that case I'd just have to yell to Notepad about how much that meant to me because I'm going to be thinking about it for a while:. they pulled Forceps's helm gently to their neck and leaned the side of their helm against it, .:Maybe forever:.

Sticks turned their head from where it rested on Forceps's towards Notepad, "that's... horrifying, honestly. Poor mech. I guess I'm not surprised, though. Things have to eat and there's sometimes not much we can do to stop them..." they trailed off, contemplating the monsters of the sand planet, "I... guess I've seen enough slag to build up a tolerance for creatures that want to eat us. Not a whole lot much scarier than a giant-uhh" they stopped themself. Soundwave could handle their discussion of corpse-hopping but Notepad? Sweet, soft, phobic of rats, Notepad? they wondered if they could stomach the idea of a giant frame-crushing sandworm, "a giant something-you-probably-don't-want-to-imagine."

 

.:Yes, well, considering I can't attack your nightmares with sawblades without doing significant damage to your processor, I should hope that was effective:. Forceps huffed, pulsing quiet satisfaction, and hid their blush under a disguised fake-yawn. Good! A good thing that had worked, because they wouldn't really have known what else to do. They'd barely had the idea to do this now! No clue whatsoever about anything next. Or what they'd do if Sticks, say, panicked about having their servos pressed to someone's spark chamber. That could have gone... poorly. *.:And, yes. Please avoid telling anyone else. Bowline... I can work with. She's... sensible. I rather like her. But no one else!" 

"Oh, no, I... probably don't want to know, thank you," Notepad sighed, then shuddered again, rubbing their servos together in a quick, unhappy motion. "Nngh. No, no, definitely don't tell me, please, if it's worse than the rats I don't want to know," they mumbled, deliberately pushing back into Sticks' servos in search of distraction, then tapped both servos against their own forehelm. "No, no- easy. Calm. Deep breaths. There are-" a slight hitch in their voice, but they managed to keep speaking, quiet and mostly to themself. "-there are no rats here. If there were, they- they would be of minimal danger, I could- could stay up here. It's fine. This is- it's a phobia response, it is not due to a genuine threat. I am safe. I... am... safe," they whispered, frame slowly relaxing, then sighed and shuddered the sensation away before glancing over their shoulder again. "...rodent phobia. My alt is exceptionally vulnerable to rodents. I have had them try to eat me or, ugh, nest in me before. It- it usually manifests upon exposure to multiple rodents, but... occasionally like this, if I was already stressed. I'm all right. Simple- simple reassurance exercise. Actual... exposure to rodents would likely require a centering technique."

 

Sticks sent a contented ping to Forceps and gave them a quick hug then watched with increasing interest as Notepad calmed themself down. "Remember Notepad, we're also both here. I'm not exactly a defender but I'd fight a creature any day -just gotta-" they kicked slightly, "squash em. And Forceps is really deadly too if you need any more help, though I dunno I think I could probably obliterate anything that came at me," they joked, they could sense Notepad was still shaken from earlier, time for a subject change- not that they had much else to say on the topic that wasn't probably disturbing to the poor bot, "Notepad did you hear? Sssss-" they trailed off before they said Soundwave's name, he'd probably want to be kept mostly a secret, a matter of protection-and Sticks still wasn't up to standard on the rules about patient confidentiality. 

"-Some real funny things happened at the party last night," Sticks laughed, it wasn't the most graceful but it was relatively safe, "You should have dropped in, met all us newbies. You missed a bot more than twice my size being thrown in the air."

 

Forceps twitched slightly and flashed a warning look at Sticks, hiding their alarm well- at least from where Notepad could see. .:Don't tell them about Soundwave. I'm sure they're aware that he's on the ship, but we should not let them know that he's behind a nearby door. He is... well. You've met him. Him and all his reputation. We also, ah, are going to refrain from telling Longrange if they come in. Longrange's experience with Decepticons is entirely from propaganda. I'm quite certain they would expect Soundwave to rip their spark out and eat it. Now... let's give them something to focus on besides the mental image of rats chewing someone's servos off:. they declared, and, moving slowly, sat up and rested a servo on Notepad's shoulder. "Let's show you off to Sticks, shall we?"

"-in what context?" Notepad asked, glancing up with a rather startled expression as Forceps hooked a servo under their ankle, but went with it. They'd been thoroughly inspected by Acus before, as he'd never met a furniture-alt bot, and they didn't mind at all. Just- phrasing. And- oh, no, positioning. Right. Forceps was used to climbing all over large patients, was entirely willing to- heh. Climb on them. Sure. Glasses dimmed in contentment, they relaxed and let Forceps lift them and move them around, eventually getting comfortable in- well. Curled against one of Forceps' legs, with the other knee over their frame for the weight, as Forceps lifted their arm to show it to Sticks. They looked vaguely like they'd lost a wrestling match, but they didn't mind. Too much. "Do you have any questions? I absolutely don't mind being educational," they declared, lifting their helm, then immediately put it back down when they realized that put their face a bit closer to Forceps' codpiece. This position was fine if they were still, but there were... several ways to make it fairly awkward.

A pause, showing off the beaten-up pad on the heel of Notepad's servo, then Forceps lightly pressed their wrist and rotated something lightly along a transformation seam, causing their servo to start folding away. "One leg of the couch, you see? Furniture alts tend to have looser transformation seams in many ways, since they only need to stand up to some weight on them and don't generally have to deal with much movement. Considerably easier to most to manually transform when they're relaxed enough. This pad- anti-friction padding on the leg. And- have you seen their holo-projector yet?"

 

.:Copy and seconded, wasn't thinking too clearly:. Sticks watched with compounding amusement as Forceps climbed over Notepad and twisted them around their frame. They were beginning to put together Forceps's playbook, play number one being: distract a patient by doing something physical or mildly sexual (if that patient could handle it). They'd adapt what they could, they figured, jury was still out on this one though. 

Sticks leaned over and grasped Notepad's servo, drawing a finger across the pad, "Hmm I didn't notice this before. Must be a bit of a pain on days when you're transforming multiple times. It's important to keep your servos clean-lots of washing required. Now I have not seen their holo-projector yet." they didn't let go of Notepad's servo when they moved on to examining other parts of their frame. They could make their own playbook, instead of getting on top of a patient they'd gently occupy their grip. Sticks leaned over to get a closer look at Notepad's face, "Now I saw something earlier and I'm wondering if it had something to do with the projector."

 

"For future reference, this sort of thing can be a reasonable distraction for someone. It's also good for someone who is in need of comfort but won't admit to it- i.e. a great number of soldiers. Always worth a try if someone isn't touch-averse or easily annoyed. Though... it's best to be mindful of one's proportions, so as not to" a pause, Forceps seeming to notice their position and shifting slightly "put anything near somewhere it shouldn't be. And be aware that drugged patients, if they find you near their face, may be inclined to lick you. Please knee anyone who tries to lick you somewhere personal in the face," they huffed, sawlets hitching up in annoyance. "If it's not somewhere personal, discourage them a bit more gently. Or put up with it, that's your prerogative."

"It's certainly interesting. I've never had a medic who's had to climb me to reach anywhere," Notepad contributed, cocking their helm slightly, and slowly reached up with their unoccupied servo to adjust their glasses. "And, this- no, it's nothing to do with the holoprojector. These are... technically my glasses, I suppose, but they're also my optics," they explained, taking their glasses off, letting Sticks get a proper look at their face. The area around their optics was still soft and flexible, but their optic lids were more like the spiraling optic lids occasionally seen on empuratees. Their optic sockets contained a plug each, filling most of the space, sunken slightly back into the sockets so the lids could close over them. "I was born without functioning optics, and the medic deemed it easier to wire in a set of plugs than to wire in optics. The surgery to replace these with actual optics is far too much for me to want to risk, given the risk of permanent blindness and the fact that this works just fine for me. Aside from occasional lag, and these sometimes coming loose. You're welcome to look, I don't really need to blink like this, but... I'd prefer you not touch. It's unnerving," they explained, holding their glasses lightly in their servos and looking up towards where they were pretty sure Sticks still was. "I'll show you the holo after. I can't coordinate it terribly well when I can't see it to make sure it's running right."

  
  


Now this caught Sticks's attention. They crawled over to where they could get a better look, signaling with light taps where they were so they didn't spook the optic-less bot. Putting both servos gently on the sides of Notepad's helm, they leaned down close to look into their optic sockets. Their face wore a mixture of genuine curiosity and discomfort. They brought a servo up to support Notepad's, turning it gently to spy the plug end of the external optics, "Yeah Notepad I don't blame you I don't think I'd want someone touching my optics either if they were on the outside like that. That was informative, thank you for showing me," Sticks said, sitting upward and slowly moving away back to where they sat before, again tapping Notepad lightly so they knew where they were, "Do you have a technician for them? They're far enough away from the realm of anatomy that I don't know how much your average medic is going to be able to do for you in terms of repairs. I know I likely won't be able to help in the event something happens."

Sticks sat up leaning back one of their pedes, their other still sore from their stunt last night. They drew a finger across their cheek and grabbed their elbow with their other servo, optics clouded with concern, they very deeply detested the idea of having no backup-no contingency plan. "Do you happen to have a backup pair? Or something similar in the event your optics break? Otherwise I can see what I can do about building you another pair." a pause, they tapped their elbow absentmindedly, "I think I can get Spade to help me on this, they're an engineer- smart, and not entirely sparkless if you ask nicely."


	8. Chapter 8

Notepad's audials quivered slightly, and they followed where Sticks was with tiny motions of their helm, but they didn't seem particularly unnerved. They were used to this by now. "I wouldn't mind letting you look the glasses over, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to make you wait until your servos are fully synced. I do prefer these to work," they explained, relaxed and happily allowing themselves to be moved to Sticks' preference. "You're quite a gentle one. You should do very well as a medic. Your lack of an intimidating frame will also help, should let people relax slightly around you." 

When Sticks was done, they settled back and put their glasses back on, the soft glow flickering a few times as it adjusted. "The medics here would be able to repair this, I think, but I unfortunately do not have a backup. I... am fairly functional with only one replacement active, I have done that in the past, but I rather prefer not to. It's really not worth the time to build a replacement, there are a lot of people who need attention more than I need spare parts." 

Forceps hummed contemplatively, sawlets lifting, tracing absentminded circles across the padding on one of Notepad's winglets. "That would actually be ideal. These are cameras, so they are suited to an engineer, they don't require a medic for anything other than a final look-over. I have the specs, but... we have been prioritizing others. Not because Notepad is any less important, or because they don't need a spare, but because there are bots on the ship who are missing parts or are in chronic pain. But, if you think Spade is capable... we do have the supplies, just not the time."

 

"I'll ask Spade, I don't think they'd say no- seeing as how they've done their whole..." Sticks made air quotes, "'perpetual motion machine.' They're probably ready to dig into another project right about now. Who knows, you might get something really good." 

Shifting back to a comfortable position, they smiled a little at Notepad's praise, "You know that's encouraging to hear. I would hate to be scary to people." they paused and curled up a bit, lost in thought, "Used to stay with dying bots, before I had to take over medic duties. Strange, soldiers, they can't bear to be around the dying. So often it would just be me and a mech with injuries we didn't have the resources to fix, no friends, the medics were doing their best somewhere else. If I was lucky I didn't know them too well, but invariably they would reach for contact- I think... that's most of what anyone needs at that point. Spent a lotta mornings waking up in a dead mech's arms..." Sticks trailed off a bit, giving themself a moment of reverent silence. After a few kliks they frowned and sighed, "Not a particularly good image, walking into a room and walking out with a corpse. I guess now I get to be approachable cause nobody has that connection. Don't get me wrong, if needed I'd do it again -I'm not concerned enough with appearances to deny someone something that important." 

Sticks shook their head with a smile, "all a long and circuitous way of saying I'm glad you said that- didn't really get to be that way in the past. Now you were going to show me your holo projector."

 

"It's the reminder, I think. Soldiers don't like to have such a stark reminder that they could die, easily- and, at that, die slowly and potentially alone, rather than going out in a blaze of glory on the battlefield. You've done a good thing, however it was received," Notepad contributed softly, gently squirming slightly out of Forceps' hold, and propped themself up slightly to look at what they were doing. "I primarily use this to give patients something to look at while I'm in my alt. Otherwise they'd be... staring at the wall, I suppose."

Truthfully, they didn't need to watch their hologram to be sure it was working right. Needing to see it was more for their confidence. A deep vent to help them settle, and a small device in one shoulder activated, plating sliding aside to reveal a bright blue projection lens. There was a fuzz of visual static in midair for a moment on the end of a beam emitting from Notepad's direction, then the beam vanished and the fuzz resolved itself into a clear image. Notepad, somewhat transparent, rendered in a pleasant blue. Not just Notepad, either- Notepad, in a chair, holding a data-pad and a stylus, facing towards Scribes and pricking padded winglets in evident intrigue. The hologram stood up, set the 'pad and stylus on the chair, bowed slightly to the both of them, then took up the two objects again and sat down, all moving perfectly smoothly. The optics even glowed slightly brighter than the rest of it. Clearly, this was a projection, but it was certainly well-practiced.

"Trying to make a hologram realistic never quite works, something is always off about it. The best thing to do, then, is not try to make it look real. If it's clearly a hologram, it doesn't make people nervous to notice any differences or inconsistencies. So-" Notepad asked softly, crossing both their actual and holographic legs to sit in a comfortable pose, "what do you think? It's been a very valuable tool to me. If... slightly embarrassing at times, it does tend to... fritz everywhere if I sneeze. Evidently it's rather funny to watch."

 

Sticks looked from the real Notepad to the projection and back again, several times, their optics getting wider the entire time, "That's... really fucking neat- I have soooo many questions." Their optics glowed a little brighter and their back wheels spun a bit, evidently thoroughly intrigued, "Okay first, is that a mod or is it natural? I've seen some holoprojectors before but never anything that small," they leaned over to get a look at Notepad's shoulder, "they were these huge bulky things, massive lenses and all, wall mounted, never anything like that. And then I'm- I'm kinda wondering, it's gotta take up quite a bit of processor space to keep the projection going in real time, so much so that it'd be almost impossible to think about anything else so is it- is it something you have to imagine constantly or do you just have some kinda internal program you can load into it with some pre-made gestures? And on that note, it's... it's just you? Can you change it so it's not you or does it not work that way?"

Sticks, looked curiously for a moment, leaned over, and stuck a servo out a polite distance from Notepad's face in the path of the projector, testing if it would cast a shadow, "also, why the chair? Is that not... at least slightly ironic?"

 

Notepad swayed slightly and the holoform flickered hard, but they coordinated themself again, albeit while carefully leaning against Forceps. "It's- here, this, you're quite welcome to have a look at. Though I prefer you not directly touch the lenses, the rest of me is fine. It is natural. At least, I was born with it, though it's entirely possible it was modded into both the frame and the genes of one of my ancestors. The chair- heh. I-I suppose it is a bit silly, isn't it? But I had a few patients tell me at first that it was odd to sit and talk to 'me' while I stood, so I added the chair. It looks more... relaxed, I suppose. The- oh, pardon me, it's been quite awhile since I've done this out of alt mode," they explained, the hologram flickering slightly, and carefully brought it to stand up. "Most of the structure is actually down in my chassis, this is... only the emitter. It's only close-range, I can't move it terribly far from me. As for how it works... goodness, it's been a long time since I had someone explain this to me."

Still moving a bit carefully as their processor worked with two things at once, they settled comfortably against Forceps' side, enjoying their presence. Forceps was somewhat less than warm with patients most of the time, but they were solid enough, they were present, and their calmness was comforting. Quiet and present definitely worked for Notepad. Hard to be anxious with someone being so nonchalant up next to them. "The image of myself, I had to refine. I had a... vague idea of it, at first, sort of like my own awareness of my limbs. Had to spend some time with a mirror, refining everything, then save that file. A lot of the... motions are actually hooked into the motion-coordinating portions of my processor. It helps with the natural motions, but it also means that... doing anything other than exactly what my holo is doing feels rather like trying to spiral my arms in opposite directions. It's possible, but very clumsy. If I'm in alt, I don't move myself at all, so my processor can commit itself entirely to moving. And I have some... pre-loaded sequences to use in certain situations, with variations on those. Genuine reactions, of course, but the responses being loaded allows me to focus entirely on my work. But... it feels, usually, like moving a limb. I don't have to think about it, only try to do it. And I believe there's a small... coordination sub-processor somewhere in its structure? My own tiny computer," Notepad commented softly, lightly tapping a spot over their lower chassis. 

"As for other things... let me try. It takes an attempt."

This, clearly, took some focus. Helm cocked, somehow conveying narrowed optics despite not having optics to narrow, Notepad dismissed the holo back into a fuzz of static and slowly resolved it into a ball. Servos twitching, they focused intently on the bundle of light as it flickered, slowly resolving itself into a small avian creature. It didn't move quite as fluidly, but it moved, soaring in a circle a few times before moving over to land on Sticks' leg. And it actually had a feeling to it, surprisingly for light- the slightest buzz, almost like static, an impossibly soft sensation of, nearly, a touch of tiny claws. Putting a servo through the projection did something rather odd- it cast a shadow, yes, and the shadow had no projection in it whatsoever. A roughly servo-shaped gap, right through the middle of it, quite large considering the narrow width of the beam.

 

Sticks couldn't help putting a servo through the hologram as it rested on their leg-weird feeling, "That's seriously impressive, Notepad. So, theoretically you could walk and project another you walking in front of you, in sync? It'd be wild to see, quite frankly -maybe a lil freaky? I don't know. It's hard to see this and not imagine what shenanigans you could get up to with it. Though I guess," they sat back, looking sheepish, "you're a professional, probably don't want to misuse a tool of your trade. Probably harder than it looks, too."

Sticks crawled closer to Notepad to get a better look at the emitter but stopped, and looked up at Notepad's face, "This probably should go without saying but I'm going to say it anyway- ahh, don't overexert yourself. You need to be able to relax. If anything is too much just say." They opened their mouth to follow that up with 'don't be like me' but closed it again, thinking better of calling attention to themself. Hypocrite that they were, they couldn't quite ignore Notepad's visible effort.

  
  


Notepad lost their focus at the praise, helm moving slightly, and the bird dissolved into a ball again. "Thank y- oh, there, it's gone. I'm not going to, ah, hurt myself, it's more of a- excuse me" the ball vanished completely, and Notepad rubbed lightly at their forehelm for a moment, then offered a little smile. "-it won't ever injure me, but some effort is required. I'm not sure I'd like to try walking at the same time, I rather think I would collide with something. Oh, I think I'm going to stop doing that for a little while, it's starting to feel like I've been thinking much too hard," they chuckled, relaxing against Forceps' frame, quite enjoying the contact and clearly content to let Sticks touch. "Please, look as much as you want, and you're welcome to touch... wherever isn't currently singed. I haven't been personally exposed to war, so I really don't have... well, not many touch-related issues. I find myself quite comfortable with this. And with you."

 

Sticks cocked their helm slightly to look up at Notepad and smiled -too uneven, too asymmetrical to possibly be fake. Their plating settled down, letting out the last bit of tension as they turned their attention to the emitter, drawing a finger around the outside. They paid attention to how it focused and moved out of Notepad's chassis. Curiosity satiated for the moment, they laid down on their front, leaning on the two bots's legs, halfway on Forceps, halfway on Notepad. They propped their chin up with a loose fist, "Stayed away from the war, huh, that's... that's lucky. Or- well, I guess... circumstances could have been bad. But- how? I didn't think there were people out here, people still alive, who never saw it. Did you just get out before things started to really get going or... You know, if you don't want to get into it forget I asked. I'm just... still reeling at how it got bad enough to kill Cybertron. I didn't think that could miss many."

 

"Hm. Correction. I haven't gotten close to war, I was on a very large cruiser-class ship. A traveling medical base of sorts, really. I never participated in any battles, for... obvious reasons," they huffed, gesturing slightly to themself, "so the most exposure I had was being aware that the ship was engaged in a battle that it was making a serious effort to evade. "That, and dealing with... thoroughly traumatized soldiers. I would call it fortunate, yes! Rather think I would... completely shut down if shoved onto a battlefield somehow," they huffed, and, left with a bot nearly in their lap, began to pet Sticks' arm. "Towards the end, it was less medics and more soldiers, a great deal of them too badly wounded to go back into battle, and... I was never told outright, but I strongly suspect there was something of a ship-wide desertion. All I know is, the ship stopped getting in battles, and I heard many discussions about navigating unfamiliar areas. I was swamped with patients, you see, and too focused on working with that to pay much attention to anything else." 

Trailing a servo down to Sticks' forearm, they inspected the rather-obviously-new addition, and their voice was something more towards professional as they spoke again. "How are you doing with these? Are you adjusting well to the increased level of sensation? I can only imagine how that would feel, but I suspect it would be a lot to work with, in addition to the mental adjustment. And, would you mind if I touch your servos? I'm quite curious, but I know better than to touch a medic's servos without permission," they hummed, fully aware that said carefulness was due to the increased level of sensors. Which Sticks did not have. Sticks would probably enjoy being called a medic, they definitely enjoyed someone being comfortable with them. A little genuine praise could do wonders for self-confidence.

 

Sticks's optics darted up to Forceps's for the briefest moment. They smiled, it was a frequent conversation, though not one they were disinclined to have again, "You know, I think I'm getting used to them. The first few days were... a lot. Surgery recovery plus all the sensory input basically meant a non-stop headache. It's still a little overwhelming sometimes, but getting better."

Sticks held their servo up for a moment, turning it slightly to take a look at it before offering it to Notepad, "go ahead, examine away! I think they're pretty special," they paused for a moment, their optics glowing thoughtfully, "going in I was ridiculously worried about rejection -saw too many instances of it and it was always horrible. People in pain, energon leaking out usually, sometimes if it was really bad you'd get these growths that then had to be dealt with. Really nasty physical experience and then on top of that there's the dysphoria. I got lucky-or," they stopped themself and gestured their helm towards Forceps, "lucky enough to be able to do this with a good medical team. Frame had no problem taking the new parts. Though... there are times when I look down and I see... someone else's servos- It's strange, they do everything I want them to, I've used them consistently for a couple weeks now, plus I can feel things finally, grip strength leaves things to be desired though I'm told that'll come in time. But they still feel-" they paused, they'd drifted thoroughly into territory they had not really talked to Forceps about, "you know, new, alien, surprising, sometimes a little uncomfortable. Not that I miss my old ones -they were gnarly. Someday, when I can handle looking at them, I'll retrieve them and show you-if you want."

Sticks noticed, with a slight tinge of both embarrassment and amusement, their level of candor in the conversation. They certainly hadn't expected nor intended to share this much and yet, they supposed, once one talked about one's deeply disturbing nightmares with someone else, anything can be fair game, "anyway that's the daily 'Sticks's servos report.'"

 

Notepad gently took Sticks' servo, clasping it softly between their own, and ever-so-carefully stroked their fingertips over the still-healing weld marks on Sticks' thoroughly mismatched wrist. "I'm glad it's going well. Now... I am hardly an expert in wound healing, but these look to be healed enough to tolerate a layer of paint. I'd be inclined to suggest a repaint for you, at least on your arms. Bringing this coloration up your arms, in lieu of waiting for your paint nanites to do it, may help you feel slightly more integrated. At the very least, it would be thoroughly enjoyable. I believe Acus could assist with that?" they questioned, glancing slightly towards Forceps for confirmation.

"He could. He's quite skilled, though he'll never admit to it," Forceps hummed, and borrowed Sticks' other servo to get a look at the weld marks. "Notepad is correct, new paint wouldn't do any harm here. I'm inclined to second the suggestion. And, if you do accept it, be sure to tell him that you appreciate his work. He responds about as well to praise as you do, albeit often much more quietly. Honestly... all of you could do with something of a repaint. Your frame is placing paint nanites very low on the priority list for obvious reasons, and it's rather obvious," they commented, lightly rubbing at a patch of metal. "Paint won't replenish the nanites, but it will leave your few present paint nanites free to upkeep your frame, rather than attempting to cover your entire surface. Lower stress on your nanite manufacturing processes, and it helps keep your surface layer healthy."

Notepad hummed quietly and stroked Sticks' fingertips, rather lightly, testing the flexibility. They'd had a quick lesson in checking how new parts were working, given their job, and still remembered it. "Rejection is a frightening thing. I've seen it a few times myself- I was formerly posted on a hospital ship of sorts. I treated a number of patients going through limb replacements of one sort or another. It tends to be less dramatic when it happens in better situations than the field, more gradual, but still thoroughly unpleasant at best. This... you are fine. No warmth in the weld marks, no inflammation. A bit of clumsiness, but that's understandable, and not particularly concerning. One thing you can try is, uh... and this does not have to be as... lewd as it sounds, but you can try, ah, touching yourself. Anywhere that comes to mind, just... light petting, stroking along seams, whatever feels comfortable. It can help your frame to fully process that your servos are, in fact, attached to you, and it" oh, that was definitely a slight blush now, evidently they were easily embarrassed "does sometimes tend to lead to, er... endorphine-releasing activities."

 

Sticks let out a loud cackle, "way ahead of you on that one, friend- though," they cleared their throat and calmed down, "not to diminish your advice. I could definitely stand to-um, pet myself more, you know, with that intention. It's weird, though, I keep finding things I've never felt before. Bowline, for example, has a lot of very small scars on the plating on the back of one of her servos. Just about invisible to the optic unless you know what you're looking for but you can feel them, yanno, when you have sensors in your fingers. I've spent so much time with her it's kind of baffling to imagine I never noticed before but- that's just it. Familiar becomes unfamiliar, not a particularly comforting feeling."they paused, curling their fingers in a bit to lightly stroke the underside of Forceps's wrist, "I'm not altogether psyched to be finding all the potential surprises in my own frame but I suppose that's just gonna come with the territory."

Sticks looked down at Notepad's servos and caught one in their own, gently holding it, not to leave them out, "I'll see if I can catch Acus at some point, don't see too much of him-don't see enough of him, but every time I do, he seems to be doing something really complicated. I hope he knows how good he is," they paused to give their chassis and arms a quick look-over, coming back with an amused grimace, "It really is bad isn't it. I'd kinda accepted I'd just hold the title of ugliest medic for a while -though," their grimace was overtaken by a facetiously smug look, "a new paintjob and the crown would need to go to someone else. The entire ship would be in disarray!" 

Sticks sighed, "at the very least if my frame looked the part, I should get less fucking questions."

 

"Hm- I suppose that would be the case for someone no longer used to their own frame," Notepad muttered, more to themself than anyone else, giving Sticks' fingertips a rather contemplative look. "In that case... perhaps find something you aren't familiar with to touch. Let the exploration be natural. The paint, well... I will be honest with you, Sticks, you don't exactly look the part. One of the hallmarks of a medic is a general fastidiousness and a tendency towards a lack of significant damage. Now, I and anyone aware of the circumstances understand that this is no reflection on you! Only on your environment. Despite that... you look a mess, and our species does tend to associate a lack of a smooth paintjob with ill health. This, Sticks, is concerning," they declared, gesturing to all of Sticks' frame with one servo. "It will certainly help people's impressions of you if you look a bit less tattered."

"Acus is... hm. I'm not sure anyone but Scalpel is completely sure what he's like. He's very quiet," Forceps noted, sighing quietly, choosing not to contribute to the discussion about Sticks' paintjob. They had nothing polite to say there. "He does relax very well if you ask him for assistance with your paint, though. If you asked him for a full repaint, I imagine you'd see him completely calm and relaxed with you. Some of his quiet is his personality, some of it is undoubtedly trauma-based, and some of it is probably genetic. He was an MTO, after all, including the basics of his personality. Made not to question authority. He does seem to like you so far, and I strongly suspect you would have interacted much more if he didn't have so many things to busy himself with. If you offer yourself as something to be busy with, he opens up. I've done that in the past, he enjoys painting, but I... ah. Should have mentioned that my frame is... somewhat unusually prone to suggestively interpreting servo stimulation from someone else," they muttered, glancing away slightly, looking vaguely embarrassed. Acus had looked somewhere between flattered and spooked and had somewhat politely fled before Forceps could quite finish explaining. They'd had to track him down later to explain further. Poor, shy bot.

 

"Oh no Forceps" Sticks couldn't stifle a laugh, "Poor Acus... Poor you. That is a beyond awkward conversation to have." They shifted their servo to gently pat further up Forceps's forearm, "Can't be the first time that's happened though. I mean, in general." .:There's a joke to be made here about stimulating coworkers but that's more of an 'us' thing:. Sticks commed Forceps, letting their thumb graze the edge of their plating nearest their wrist. They glanced up to Forceps's optics for an instant, their own glinting with a trace of mischief, nothing unbecoming but nonetheless just the slightest hint suggestive, .:Notepad looks like they're settling down pretty well-but you know them better than I do. You think it's time to start on the to-do list for this shift?:.

"You two are really getting me excited for this repaint," Sticks said, "Sick and tired of looking like sandblasted slag. I gotta check the schedule to see when he's on while I'm off... I'll figure it out!" they paused, thinking for a moment, Notepad seemed a reasonable bot, they'd probably be able to figure out their own feelings well enough, might as well ask them as well, "So Notepad, how are you feeling? What's the Notepad report for right this moment."

 

"Fortunately, he was... fairly understanding. I don't normally let other people handle my servos, for multiple reasons, but he is... very gentle. If I thought he would respond well, I might suggest something, but... not the best plan, as I'm fairly sure he sees me as something of an authority figure. Ah well," Forceps sighed, sawlets twitching in response to that look, and rather carefully watched what their expression was doing. Hm. Mischief. Definitely something to watch, Sticks was not going to flirt over a patient's frame. Even if that patient seemed to be largely fine now.

"I'm all right, I think," Notepad reported from the berth, having laid back down again. "Quite tired, and a bit sore, but not bad. I... do feel safe, I can say that much. If you have something to do, please, feel free! I am perfectly content here," they hummed, and they looked it. Tired and bandaged up, but their expression was soft enough, and their frame was relaxed. A gentle scrub to their faceplates, and they relaxed contentedly against the berth, happily accepting the blanket that Forceps handed them. 

"Good. Stay there, rest, I will check on you in a few hours to be sure nothing is happening that should not be. Assuming your frame does not have a shock reaction, which it is not likely to at this point, you should be able to leave soon," Forceps concluded, standing up, and moved away slightly. .:Yes. And the first thing on my list is checking you over. You aren't healing properly, and I don't think it's environmental, because your companions are healing at a normal rate. Which makes me think you may have been exposed to something additional, or you may have another factor contributing. I intend to find out what it was. If you're lucky, it's something that only affects your paint nanites. If not, it could be affecting much more of your frame, and if that's the case I need to know what it is. Did you encounter anything particularly unusual?:.

 

Sticks hopped off the berth, giving Notepad a reassuring pat, "ping us if you need anything!" Flashing them a bright smile, they turned to face Forceps. It was time, they thought. Their wheels spun a bit. They looked into Forceps's optics, their face clouding over slightly then wordlessly  tore away their gaze and began to walk in the direction of one of the private rooms that wasn't currently in use, back straight, looking as confident as they could,  _.:I noticed it too. And- I think I have an idea about what it may be. You're... not gonna like this:. _   
Sticks opened the door and flipped the lights on, making sure they were bright enough not to further push their anxiety. They needed as much courage as they could retain. They entered and leaned on the nearest counter. Taking a deep breath, they turned to watch Forceps, waiting for them to enter. Their expression was one of uneasy resolve,  _.:It's a rather personal matter which is why I need to discuss it here and not out there:. _ Once the door closed behind Forceps, they turned around and walked over to lean against the side of the berth. They tapped their servos in a back and forth rhythm on the edge, helm downward as they began to jog their leg. When at last they looked up at Forceps again, their optics were full of apprehension, "It's-please don't be angry with me, I think it's my spark."

 

Forceps started to feel slightly apprehensive the instant Sticks started doing the anxious fidgeting. That only mounted as Sticks took them elsewhere, and they could practically feel their own personal paranoia machine spinning up. What was it? What had they missed? What was on the scans that they hadn't seen?    
Ah. Evidently the worst-case scenario was actually the true one here. Lovely. Their sawlets did an odd, unhappy downward flapping motion, and they bared their fangs slightly, COMMing Sticks as they stepped closer.  _.:It is- what? Sticks. I need you to explain. Thoroughly. You are going to tell me everything you know, and you are going to do it now. And you are going to open up as much as you're willing so that I can check your spark for myself. Are we clear?:. _   
Definitely clear. No need for the question. Sawlets hitching up, they stepped in close to Sticks, placing a fingertip under their chin to tilt their helm back, then slid both servos down to tap and prod at their chassis. Searching, checking, trying to find any sort of seam, fingertips seeking out as much energy as they could find. If they could just locate the right spot, they could get the general idea of Sticks' spark signals for right now, at least check if it was stable.

 

"S-stop," Sticks caught both of Forceps's servos in their own and held them still, "I'll explain an-and then I'll show you. It's-" they sighed and were silent for a few moments, still evidently finding their courage, "It's an old thing and it doesn't affect me all that much on the daily I'm -I'm not in pain or anything. So when I said it's not an immediate concern I wasn't lying. I," they took a breath, then looked directly into Forceps's optics, "I jumpstarted someone. Hooked my spark up to theirs and-and it backfired. I don't..." their courage was bleeding out of them, they looked down at their pedes again, "I don't remember what happened except there was  _ pain _ and Ap-" they paused and frowned, "the... patient, they lived again but they were so... angry. I-"   
Sticks let their servos drop down a bit, "Bowline told me I was... unconscious for a long time, like a month. I just assumed that the problem would resolve itself without me having to deal with it. If-if I didn't look at it it'd just go away, or I'd die and everything would be fine because I would have died anyway. But- I want to live now, Forceps," At the last word Sticks looked up again, "I used to be okay with dying but now I'm... not sure, there's the future to hope for, one without guaranteed pain, there's a safe place, there's friends who aren't in immediate danger of dying, and there's  _ you, _ Forceps, the mech who believes in me, the mech who is so invested in my wellbeing, the mech who bared their  _ spark _ in a semi-public space... for me. I need to match your courage, or, at least try to."

Sticks sighed, "I don't know if it's fixable. I don't know what's wrong but I don't think it's right. Even after everything, even if it isn't fixable, you deserve to know."   
With that, they brought Forceps's servos to either side of their chassis, over the vents, out of the way as an almost invisible transformation seam appeared down the middle of their chestplate, sliding to the side. Nestled between ventilation tubing was their spark chamber. They unfurled the petal-like plating ever-so-slightly so Forceps could get a better look, then released their servos. The back wall of their chassis as well as their spark's outer armor were covered in a matte black soot, through which jagged fractal-esque lines were defined in the bright silver of bare metal. Their spark itself was a few shades darker and a few sizes smaller than it should be and flickering rapidly. Sticks didn't look down, they couldn't. They didn't want to see the damage they'd done to themself, didn't want to accept they'd sealed their fate in an idiotic last ditch effort that got them nothing. They didn't want a visual aid for how they were dying. Instead they looked up at Forceps's face, expectant, desperate.

 

Ordinarily, this sort of thing would have meant a lot to Forceps. A sensation of  _ trust _ . Right now, it just felt like their spark chamber was about to phase through their frame and plummet through the floor. Oh. Primus.  _ Sticks _ .    
Not wanting to spook Sticks, they moved slowly and carefully, sliding their servos down to the edges of the gap. Carefully, they slid two fingertips into the gap to touch the sooty areas, wiping away some of the soot to inspect the marks underneath, optics flickering something uncertain and almost afraid. Dear Primus, Sticks.

After a moment, they glanced up to Sticks' face, both servos moving up to their shoulders to firmly guide them onto the berth.  _.:Sit. Sticks, you could have died. There is a chance you did, this sort of spark damage can mean that your spark temporarily flickered out. I need you to sit down and lean forward slightly, this soot has to come off, should have come off at the time, so that I can see what state your spark chamber is in. You are in a... thoroughly precarious situation here, your spark is exceedingly vulnerable in this state, but you are not going to die. Not if I can help it, and I can absolutely help it. You are going to be still for me, I am going to clean your spark chamber up, and then we are going to find you some spark energy donors. And you are not going to die:. _

Giving Sticks no chance at escaping, Forceps nudged and prodded at their frame to get them leaning forward, mostly so the soot wouldn't end up deep in their frame as it was scrubbed away. It didn't even hold on terribly strongly, all it took was a gentle rub with something soft to remove it, and that was the first step here. Get Sticks cleaned up, and reassure Forceps that, shallow and flickering though it was near their fingertips, Sticks' spark was still here. It was intact, it was working, and the flickering- the flickering was bad, but it was a relatively even pattern. This was fixable. They could fix this. They were going to have to find some donors, but at least some of those would be easy- the Choir would undoubtedly be willing.  _.:We need to contact your friends and ask if they're willing to donate a fraction of spark energy. It's a safe procedure- a bit uncomfortable, and they'll be tired after, but it won't cause any lasting harm. The spark can easily regenerate a small portion of the outer layer, which is what we would be taking, and enough tiny donations will boost your spark and help it to be more stable. Bowline, in particular, I need to talk to- she's large enough to give at least half of what you'll need, I'd estimate, if she's willing. I have others in mind who could donate- anonymously, of course, no need for them to know. But this is happening- no refusals on your part. You are going to live. Understand?:. _

  
  


Sticks spotted the flash of fear in Forceps's optics and tore their own away. A deep apprehension leeched its way into their frame as they listened to Forceps, focusing instead on the movement of their forearms. It was as bad as they'd worried. They sat, quietly compliant, optics wide, as Forceps did their work. Their arms were numb, fingers pricked with static. They flinched slightly each time Forceps reached a servo into their chassis, there was something deeply disconcerting about watching someone's limb pass much too far into your frame and the spidery scars were raw to the touch and yet... and yet they were gentle,  _ so _ gentle. If anyone was to put their... anything near their spark, they were glad it was Forceps.    
Sticks reached out to rest their servos on Forceps's hips, seeing as it was the only place currently both accessible and out of the way, and nodded, they were going to live. It was treatable, and they were going to  _ live. _ The realization sunk in all at once, their chassis spasmed in one huge sob. Energon dripped from their optics as warm relief flooded their field. They continued cry for a minute, hindered slightly by the instinctual need to protect their open chassis and the latent anxiety of being so exposed. Eventually their sobs turned into tired laughs that shook the energon tears from their face, "It's... going to be okay? That's all it takes?"

 

-oh, oh dear. Forceps leaned in slightly, carefully shielding Sticks' spark, then outright climbed onto the berth with them. Careful, they settled right in front of Sticks and leaned in, guarding their spark from the world, offering themself as quiet comfort. _.:Yes. Sticks, you are going to live. You should have told me! Do you have any idea- no, of course you don't know how much danger you were in- Sticks, there are electromagnets on this ship more than strong enough to fatally destabilize your spark in the state it's in. Enough of an energy surge into your frame could have done it, or- Sticks, a spark in this state only gets worse over time, if you'd left it long enough you could have collapsed for no reason anyone would be aware of. You'd probably have died before anyone could figure out what was wrong, in that case. You should have told me, you:._ a quick grip to their shoulders, and Forceps actually shook them, gently but with no other way to express their exasperation _.:stubborn little thing, you could have died from this so easily, and- YES. There's a fix, and it's not especially complicated, we can start on it right now, and there is absolutely no reason you won't be fine. But this-:._   
Leaning back, they stared down into Sticks' face for a moment, shook them again, and then hugged them tight. _.:-you can't ignore things like this! You little fool- there is equipment in this medbay that could have killed you! We have an electromagnet strong enough to do it, and I wouldn't have known to keep you away from that- or the stunners could have done it! Dear Primus, Sticks, regardless of what you think of yourself, we all want you to live!:._

 

Sticks slowly wrapped their arms around Forceps, gripping the other's back as tightly as they could. They could joke about being obliterated by a sandworm, being shot in the face, even being blown up or eaten alive by parasitic insects, but there was something at once mundane and startlingly real about Forceps's words that struck them silent once again as they realized just how close they'd gotten to oblivion. They were walking the knife's edge between life and ignominious death the entire time they'd thought they were safe and only now were they compelled to look down. They were struck with a gnawing fear, not one easily banished by reason, courage, or willing stupidity. Their entire frame began to tremble against Forceps's. All the fear they should have felt every time they'd gotten so close to death was coming back to them at once.    
Sticks buried their face in Forceps's chassis. In the small cracks between the two bots, the light of Sticks's spark was dancing wildly. Their field dissipated, but this time they couldn't hide their fear. They took a shuddering breath to try to calm down but it did very little, "I didn't know." their voice was barely above a whisper, "I had no idea- I- I didn't. It's not- I don't want- I didn't want to die. I didn't know. I didn't know." They shifted their arms around to hug Forceps tighter than before, "I'm sorry, should have told you sooner. I- I didn't know how close I was. Thought I would... deal with it once it became a problem. But I-I-" static tinged their voice, "I didn't know."

 

Forceps sighed deeply and gathered Sticks into their lap, holding them close and squeezing them tightly, and let Sticks do as they wanted. _.:It has been a problem since you passed out for a month, you little fool,:._ they scolded, giving Sticks another little jostle, then ex-vented strongly and rocked slightly in place with them. _.:Easy. You are not going to die, Sticks. I am going to hold you until you calm down, we are going to be aware of your potential issues and careful with you until you heal, and I am going to immediately recruit donors for you. In fact- I am going to make a decision for you. I will ask your crew about donating. They are going to find out one way or another that you are in need of repairs. Breathe. Try to relax. And you are going to tell me, once you calm down, about any other medical issues you are hiding. We are going to deal with all of it as soon as possible. So. Share. As soon as possible. Non-negotiable:._   
Cradling Sticks against their chassis, Forceps took a few moments to vent and relax as much as possible, petting Sticks' back and occasionally sliding a servo up to massage the ports at the back of their helm. Hm. Probably being gentle with them would have kept them slightly calmer, but... they'd needed to be very clear about this. It was important for Sticks to understand that they were in danger and had to be careful here, and that they had to tell Forceps about anything else. Probably there wasn't anything else, but- dear Primus, how had Forceps missed this? Now, time to fix this, as much as possible and as soon as possible.

_.:Bowline.  Would have been good to know that Sticks suffered a spark trauma that knocked them out for a month. They could have died easily from this, and it is entirely fixable, but I need to find donors. Spark energon donors, specifically. Simple procedure, albeit vaguely uncomfortable, to draw off a small amount of the outer layer of the spark. No effects on personality. Causes some level of fatigue for a few days but is otherwise harmless, a healthy spark regenerates easily. Need to know how many of the Choir are likely to be willing. Shouldn't need too many donors, given Sticks' size. And I need to know about any other spark or processor injuries you're aware of. Privacy is not as important as preventing someone's sudden and entirely preventable death:. _

 

Bowline turned her helm from the datapad in her servos and sat up straight in her chair. She didn't respond for a few kliks, processing what Forceps had said. She had sensed there was something off about Sticks the second they'd awoken after the incident but to the extent of 'sudden and entirely preventable?' That she had not known.   _.:I am not a medic, Forceps, had I known the severity of the issue I would have told you outright. I am glad you have at last asked them about Aphelion. Evidently it has saved their life. I am sure the rest of the Choir will be more than happy to help, myself included in case that was not crystal clear. Tell me when we should assemble and I will gather them:. _ This was disconcerting to say the least. Something had happened, evidently, enough for chronic secret-keeper Sticks to finally spill their lowest moment.  _.:I know around the time they were tortured, they spent a significant but undetermined amount of time alone and without sustenance. What affect that could have on them currently I do not know. Aside from that and the Aphelion incident, there were some injuries that they seemed to recover from, not concerning spark or processor, if there is anything else they have not told me. Most importantly, are they okay?:. _   
.

Sticks concentrated on their breath, on the feeling of Forceps n front of them, on the sound of their own spark as its crackling hum bounced off the walls. It took a few minutes to regain a sense of composure, at least enough to speak coherently. At last they unfurled their arms from around Forceps and sat up, their servos on their knees. They looked Forceps in the face and took a deep breath, their expression one of steely resolution "I can't hide from you here, not like this. I did not intend to before but... old habits die hard," they cleared their throat and began, "Regular insomnia, at least weekly nightmares, and general fatigue- I've been managing these on my own for a long time now, even before I got on the ship. Plus,  _ currently, _ a sprained ankle that-well you know how that happened. I've had similar injuries before but nothing that hasn't been properly dealt with." their spark flickered a bit, Sticks noticed and sucked in a bit through their dentae, "dealt with to the best of my ability... they no longer hurt," they closed their optics, "I used to be so confident in my skills but now I'm not so sure." They opened their optics again, already regretting their decision, "Aside from that, there's servo stuff you already know about. I suspect some of my forearm cables may be atrophied to a more-than-ideal extent. And... that is all I'm aware of."

  
  


_.:I'm not convinced it would be wise to put the entire Choir in a room at once and give them something to be concerned about. They would probably cause trouble. If at all possible, I need you and... one other. Salvo, perhaps? I will be drawing a small amount of energy away from a donor spark into what is, essentially, a battery, to slowly infuse into Sticks' spark. And... I would not term them okay, not at the moment, they are extremely vulnerable. However, they are not worse off than they were before. I asked if they might know anything that was factoring into their nanites not working properly, this is not a discovery based on them... passing out or something of the sort. Although they are currently rather emotional. I may need to recruit another of the medics- who would you be most open to? Given the, ah, exposure involved. You got along well with Acus before, I believe?:. _

Forceps listened quietly, sighing, meeting Sticks' optics but staying aware of Sticks' spark flickering. Just in case. _.:The nightmares are not acceptable. We're going to need to figure out something that works to counteract them. I'm inclined to suggest that you always recharge with company, that should help. No complaints- nightmares and the stress thereof are bad for your health. Either we'll find a situation to improve them or we'll start looking at medication. Your servos... you may need more extensive physical therapy than already expected, your situation is unusual. Old injuries, we'll deal with those if they flare up. The ankle should be fine if you rest it. Thank you for telling me this, Sticks. Now:._ they sighed, lightly cupping Sticks' face in their servos so the smaller bot couldn't look away too far. This wasn't exactly an easy question. _.:I do need to know this, Sticks, and the question becomes especially relevant given your imprisonment. It's relevant to my assistance of your mental health. Were you sexually assaulted then, or at any other time?:._   
Forceps didn't _think_ so, Sticks certainly didn't seem to have any hang-ups about interface, but... best to find out for certain, while Sticks was being honest. _.:And, Sticks- nothing you tell me about past experiences will leave this room if you do want it to. I can keep a secret- I am already keeping several dozen for my past patients, many of whom are dead. Their secrets are not for me to share, and neither are yours:._

 

Bowline sighed and began some mental calculations. So it was  _ Sticks _ who told them. She didn't expect that. It was a step in the right direction. At last someone was succeeding where she had failed. She would have to tell Forceps how she appreciated that.  _.:I have no qualms about my spark, so it does not matter to me who facilitates. However, Salvo will.  I have doubts about his ability to stay calm, as much as he will want to help. Acus does not seem the type to be hardy to Salvo's kind of energy, especially given the fact that I doubt Salvo is mentally prepared to know Sticks has been in danger this whole time. Draft, I believe would be more likely to handle the procedure in a dignified manner but prying him away from Salvo may be impossible. I would suggest Patches to facilitate the donation, if he is not otherwise engaged. What is your plan of action? I will advise given my knowledge:. _   
.

"N-no," Sticks looked away, their spark seemed to flicker a little faster, "I've been... pushed around a bit before and people have said some awful things to me but," they sighed, "nothing ever came of it. I don't know if it was because I'm too small, too ugly or too... pitiful but they didn't do that to me," Sticks looked off into the distance, "It's a good thing too I don't think I'd have survived that." They put a servo in front of their chassis, realizing they were nervous, "I was almost a witness- I mean, it got close. He just... hurt him enough to kill him instead. It's not a subject I like to talk about. But that's the truth." There was more to be said about the memory but all they wanted to do was banish the faces that popped up in their mind for the first time outside their nightmares.    
Sticks took a deep breath and looked into Forceps's face again, "Which of the medics are going to find out about..." they gestured to their spark, "this situation. I don't like the idea of my coworkers thinking I'm... I dunno, fragile, pathetic." Or asking more invasive questions, Sticks concluded their thought silently. It would be a long shot for nobody else to find out. The Choir they knew they could trust. They'd seen enough, knew Sticks enough not to treat them any differently. But what could be said for the rest of the medics? Sticks couldn't tell.

 

_.:I don't need a dignified manner, as long as it happens. For this, I can pull Patches away from whatever he's doing. I would like the donation to happen as soon as possible, so I can begin the transfusion as soon as possible. If you could bring yourself and... someone willing, I do not care who, to the medbay, I will arrange for Patches to meet you. Once I have the energy on servo, I will slowly transfer it to Sticks. Depending on how well it takes, I may need to find other donors, but I have enough to deal with right now without putting too much thought into that. At the very least, today should get them more stable. I will ask now: do you think you will be comfortable with a medical procedure involving your spark? You are not mandatory for this, I can find another large bot, but you were the first who came to mind. This would not be a good procedure for you to panic halfway through:. _

Forceps stared down at Sticks for a moment, then gathered them up for another squeeze, and held them close to continue the conversation. They were going to need some way to relax slightly to coherently COMM Sticks about this. _.:You are not ugly, you are worn down and somewhat unusual. That is still a very unpleasant thing to witness. I am setting this subject aside only to discuss more relevant things. As for the others, they are all going to find out, as they do need to know in order to keep you safe until your spark is stable again. None of them is going to think you pathetic- if anything, this should increase their opinions of you, what you did for someone else. As for fragility- Sticks, you are fragile at the moment, literally. You are also quite fragile in comparison to, say, Bracer, even in the best of health. That is not a negative trait, it is only a trait to be aware of:._ Forceps sighed, and rocked slowly, gently in place, optics dim. _.:And if you do not want to discuss something with them, unless it is medically relevant and highly important, you are free to say that. No one here will be upset if you say that you do not want to discuss something private.:._   
A few more moments, and they sighed quietly, managing to speak for something that was... private, but, in a way, medical. "I am sharing this because it seems to be the thing to do. I have not been assaulted, save the... attempt, with the drugs, I told you about. I have had a few bots try, but not for long- the lasers, you know. And more than a few drugged medbay patients have grabbed at me, some of them managing to make contact. Nothing further. My... traumas are... less than sexual in nature. Now, I am currently asking Bowline to come to the medbay, and bring at least one suitable other donor. Patches will handle that."

 

Bowline stood up, placing the datapad on the chair's arm and strode out the door, _.:Consider it done. My contribution is non-negotiable:._ She navigated the numerous hallways the way she remembered, to Salvo and Draft's room. Both would be willing, undoubtedly, it was just a matter of convincing one to go without the other. Knocking on the door, it was Salvo who answered, "Bowline what's up?"  
Bowline nodded at him and looked into the room, Draft was sitting on the edge of a berth, a slightly confused look on his face. Bowline leaned into the doorway a bit, her voice quiet, "Sticks is finally dealing with their personal matter. They are in need of spark energy donors. Draft, I want you to come with me."  
"Personal... matter..." Salvo looked a bit confused until realization lit upon his face, "Are they okay?"  
Behind him Draft pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the door, Bowline only looked at Salvo, "Evidently it has always been worse than we thought. Forceps is organizing a solution as we speak. I do not believe we have cause for alarm but there is cause for haste," she turned to Draft who now stood behind Salvo, "This is why I need you to come with me promptly."   
Bowline turned to walk away and Salvo grabbed her servo, "Why not me?"  
Bowline didn't acknowledge him, wresting her servo from his grip, "Your anxious anger will get the better of you. Please wait here."  
Salvo looked hurt as Draft pushed past him. Draft glanced back, "I know you don't want to be left out but she's right. You got angry at Sticks last time you found out they hid something. That's not something they need right now."  
Draft at last looked away and followed Bowline's long strides to the medbay.  
Salvo stood in the doorway, trying to quell the anger that was rising inside him, they were right. _Fuck._   
Like hell he'd be left out of this.

 

.   
Sticks held Forceps closer, humming a bit in acknowledgement, "I will gladly listen if you ever want to talk about them, but don't feel obligated to tell me more than you need to. I would never demand from the unwilling." It was the first sentence in a while that they said with utmost confidence, as if they had said it before, countless times, the Choir's mantra, "And... I'll still love you, no matter what."   
They were silent for a minute, their field beaming a mixture of deep affection and comfort, only amplified by their open chassis. At last they resumed, "I guess we are dealing with this now, huh. That's quicker than I expected. I'll... have to get used to the idea of everyone knowing pretty soon, huh." Sticks sighed, "This whole time I've been thinking, I wish this was better circumstances. If I wasn't so... utterly fucked up, this could have been, I dunno, a moment or something. Instead it's just anxiety, retracing old scars, crying energon tears for past pain." they turned their helm to gaze off into space in the direction of the wall, voice soft, tired, "If I had my way I'd have taken you out, found some beautiful view of the sky on some planet and shown you there, in full view of the brilliance of a sunrise. Not a sterile room in a medbay..."   
Sticks crawled up into Forceps's lap and curled up as far against their frame as they could. The chill air of the ship against the inside of their chassis was beginning to get to them.

 

"Nothing to talk about. Just a few bots I had to smack with something. And a couple who I tolerated because they mistook me for someone more receptive," Forceps huffed, but sent a tiny pulse of appreciation at the. Hm. The sentiment. Not that they needed the reassurance, the mentioning of "sometimes drugged bots grab my aft" would hardly change anything with much of anyone. Wasn't particularly disturbing, just annoying.   
And then Sticks went at the emotions again, and Forceps huffed a muffled, disgruntled noise, switching back to COMMs again. Ugh. Pit. Dear Primus their vocalizer issues were a pain. Hfah. They'd ignore their annoyance as much as possible. _.:I... likewise would have preferred similar circumstances:._ they sighed, repositioning Sticks to guard their chassis and its warmth, and ex-vented strongly to surround them in warm air. _.:But... there is something else that is possible. After your spark transfusions are complete, your spark will need some time to adjust, during which I can monitor it only via scans. If you... want to do something... sappy like that, your spark will be visibly different and much healthier by then, which would be... much better for me. This? I cannot get distracted with... sappy emotions when your spark looks like it would vanish if I were to look at it too hard. It would thoroughly ruin any sort of mood:._ they pointed out, optics dimming slightly, and set about COMMing Patches to recruit him. Before they remembered something else to mention. _.:Also, three other medics does not equal 'everyone'. You do not need to tell anyone else. I will be informing Crucible that he should keep you away from strong electromagnets, but I will not explain why, and I doubt he has the medical expertise to know the significance. Nor would he care, as, again, no one sensible is likely to significantly change their opinions of you. If they do, it would be for the better:._   
.

By the time Draft and Bowline got to the medbay, Patches had found the emergency transfusion equipment, shoved that aside, and withdrawn the less-than-emergency equipment, and was standing in the medbay, waiting for them. "Hello! Now, I know this is a lot, but it would be best to do as soon as possible. We'll just duck into a side room if you don't mind- who's first, and would you like the other to come with you for support? This shouldn't hurt, but I can tell you from experience it's somewhat unnerving, plus there's the whole... soul-nudity aspect."

 

Sticks smiled and curled up further into Forceps's lap, "a reveal, then. Not quite a do-over but close. Bring some high grade along, really make a date out of it. It's a plan," Sticks opened their optics, turning to Forceps's face with a flirtatious grin, "And then we frag like the universe is ending. Ah-hm," they frowned, "realizing that interface is probably out of the question until this is solved. Primus, would I even be up for it. I don't know what a spark transfusion should entail. Fuck- Am I gonna be out for another month? I don't- don't like that."   
The utter shock of the situation had waned at last into a low level buzz, ready and waiting for its time to reappear, but acquiescing its place in Sticks's mental spotlight to make room for more banal thoughts. Mostly they were just irritated. At last they seemed to be getting the hang of being a real medic, with a  _ schedule _ and  _ specialized equipment _ to manage, and now they'd be laid up dealing with this mess. And to add insult to injury, all of their coworkers would know not just that they'd done something incredibly stupid, but also that they'd hidden their weakness for the entire month they'd known them. They could just imagine the concerned looks, the questions.  _ Primus, _ this was embarrassing. They let out another sigh and shivered, "Forceps is it absolutely necessary I keep my chassis open? it's cold in here."   
.

Bowline scanned the medbay with her optic, spotting Notepad stationed on a far berth. She put a servo on Draft's shoulder and turned to him, "I would like the company if you do not mind." Draft mimicked her and came to the same conclusion: best to stick together to avoid people questioning them individually. That tiny bastard was sensitive about few things about themself but this was one of them, both bots would honor their secrecy as best they could. Bowline had been exceptionally quick, as always.   
"Of course," Draft said, following Patches and Bowline into the side room. He sat down on the edge of the berth and Bowline filed in to lean on him from her spot on the floor.    
She looked up to Draft, "I will go first. I know you have some reservations about your own privacy."   
Draft gave the hint of a tired smile, it would appear Bowline was in no mood for gentleness today.   
"I am ready, Patches, tell me what I need to do," Bowline said, turning to the medic. Her single optic was burning slightly brighter than usual, her posture forward, displaying her own brand of urgency.

  
  


_.:Mm. I, for one, would not be exceptionally comfortable with interfacing right now. I cannot accurately predict how your spark will respond. No need to worry, this recovery time will be much shorter, and you should be feeling better during it. You will likely experience a surge of energy, if anything. I'll be inclined not to offer you any particularly delicate work for a week or so, but I wasn't planning to do that anyway. The experience of a spark transfusion varies somewhat from case to case, but you may find it invigorating. And-:. _

Forceps leaned back slightly, looking down at Sticks, and chuckled silently as they tucked Sticks closer.  _.:And, no, there is absolutely no need for you to keep your chassis open. You'll only need to open it for the transfusion. Which will be... simple enough. You lay still with your spark exposed, and I offer it a slow, stable stream of available energy. It will absorb the energy, I will continue to offer energy until it stops accepting any further energy, and whatever it does not take now will be saved for later. A transfusion today, potentially another in a few days and one after that. The backlash damaged your spark and pushed out a significant amount of your energy, and without a stable spark to add it to or a steady supply of fuel, your frame has been unable to replenish that. Giving your spark the additional energy will allow it to heal itself, stabilizing its structure, and will reestablish its stabilization layer. The outer layer is very quick to regenerate. The inner layer will take several months to properly accept the new energy and coordinate itself, but the increased energy and the protective layer will significantly improve your physical state. You still need to be somewhat careful of electromagnets and electrocution during the healing time, though. And, yes, we can interface before those months are up. Afterward... there will be some scarring, most likely, and your spark will never be quite as durable as before, but you should be fine as long as you avoid things that would destabilize anyone's spark:. _

After a moment, Forceps sighed and spoke out loud, giving Sticks a gentle squeeze. "And leave the spark transfusions to those whose frames are properly equipped to handle it. Some medics have a frame that can allow a weakened spark to do this directly- but it's draining and somewhat risky, which is why we're doing it by proxy. In future, you do NOT try to jump-start someone's spark. Another medic can do it, we can use a tool, or... they might die, but you definitely will not. If you try to jump someone's spark again, it will kill you. And, let me be clear- whatever you think of yourself, your potential as a medic is too valuable for you to kill yourself on a  _ fraction _ of a chance at saving someone else. Do not do that."    
.

 

Patches, projecting gentle, soothing waves through his field, sat down right in front of Bowline and leaned in to plant a shoulder against her chassis. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to keep my shoulder here to at least slow you down if you jerk forward. If you start getting too uneasy at any point at all, you need to  _ tell me _ so I can move everything away from your spark chamber. This tool is made to shatter on impact rather than impaling something important, but you will still end up with shards of material that we'll need to fish out of your chamber, so I do need to know if you need me to stop. Now... I need you to sit still, open your chassis for me, and slightly open your spark chamber. This tool will siphon off some of your spark's protective layer, the portion that keeps it stable and does  _ not _ have your personality in it, which we can give to Sticks."   
Humming soothingly, he showed Bowline a tool that looked vaguely like a cattle prod, attached by a thick, heavily insulated wire to a small container, the shaft made of something shiny and already vaguely cracked. "It's uncomfortable, but it's really not bad. Just relax."

 

At last given the okay, Sticks clicked their chassis closed with a prolonged shudder. They'd almost gotten used to the feeling but now that they were closed up, the idea of going back to being so exposed was very unappealing. They grimaced and sighed, "Simple enough, I guess, makes sense, checks out, et cetera..." Sticks paused, looking off into the distance, "I was  _ such _ an idiot. You don't need to worry about me risking everything to jumpstart some nobody. It's... Forceps I want you to know something, not as my physician, but as my partner," they took a deep breath, "The person who I jumpstarted was my... partner at the time, Aphelion. They were... not very nice but they told me what I thought I wanted to hear. I was just so, so desperate for reciprocation. But they were...  _ everything _ to me. The only thought in my mind was 'I don't want to live in a world without them.' It..." they paused again, "it didn't matter if I was risking my life, I thought they  _ were _ my life. In hindsight and... with better context," here they shifted a bit to lean into Forceps, "I realize they were nothing. I gave them my  _ spark, _ and they got angry, and they ran and I never saw them again."    
Sticks frowned, their servos curling into trembling fists, "I don't know where they are now, but I think would have felt if they died. I'm so-" they clenched their jaw, "so  _ fucking _ angry with myself. Why did I  _ do _ that." They sighed, releasing some of the tension in their frame and shook their helm into Forceps's chassis, "I want to say they made a mess of me but I just made a mess of myself. So you... don't need to worry about keeping me away from patients with spark trauma I'm not... gonna do anything rash. The only people who matter that much to me are Bowline and... and you." they turned up to Forceps's face, "and even then I..." they closed their optics, and put their servos on their face, " _ Primus, _ I don't wanna think about that."

.   
Bowline nodded and cracked open her chassis. Her helm cocked a bit as the air of the room replaced the stale air around her spark, "Evidently the sensors around my spark chamber are still working. This changes nothing, however." She turned to look back at Patches, pulling her chassis plating open slightly more so he could work, and put an arm around both bots. Something instinctual about the situation was nagging at her processor, evidently even someone like her could not elude the unnerving feeling of having an exposed spark. No matter, she was resolute, her will was wrought iron, she would not be stopped by mere instinct. "Begin when you wish." She said at last.

  
  


Forceps growled a long, slow sound made with their internal components rather than their nonexistant voice, hugging Sticks closer, and curled around them as if to protect them from the world. They were silent in every way for a few long moments, then replied, almost shakily, optics shut tight. _.:They did not deserve your company, let alone your affection. You did not do this to yourself, Sticks, they did it to you. Now... breathe. I will tear them apart for you if I get the chance, but, barring that likely slim possibility, you don't have to think about them again. Nor do you have to think about the possibility of using your soul as a battery for someone else, because it is not a possibility. We are going to set that thought aside, and, Sticks... do you have any concerns otherwise? I can answer any questions you may have. Including what this entails for the others involved. I may be able to give you some advice on... how to explain this to them, because I imagine they are going to want details:._   
Well. That explained some things. Making a mental note to be careful of... Sticks in general, Forceps shifted to cradle the smaller bot in their lap, presenting their sawlets to the door. They'd just hold Sticks, help them stay calm until things were ready, and then... try to get them through the rest. Hopefully they'd be feeling much better afterward. At the least, they would be slightly more durable.  
.

"That's good to know, actually, it will help you recognize if something is wrong in future," Patches noted, humming softly up at her, and pulsed a careful wave of  _ reassurance/confidence/comfort _ . Careful, gentle, not enough to overwhelm against her spark, but present. "All right. I'm going to start now. Again- if you need me to stop, tell me. If it comes down to it, push me away! You won't hurt me. I'd prefer a warning so I can carefully remove things myself, but I'll gladly take being shoved over you getting too uneasy. And don't pretend you have  _ no _ emotions, please, I know you have some in there."    
Carefully, he brought the end of the device closer, notably keeping his servo far back onto the insulated section of handle rather than exposing the sensors to anything. The spark's outer layer naturally explored outward when the chamber was open and its owner wasn't overly stressed, which meant Patches could capture and begin to siphon off one of the tendrils of energy. Not the most pleasant sensation, a tugging on one's very core, but tolerable. "Easy, now... your size is a significant advantage here, we only need a small percentage of your energy to give Sticks a significant boost. The poor bot. I wish I'd known about this before, we could have started on healing them up even before all of you recovered. Wouldn't be too hard to find enough donors for someone their size on the ship, especially not if I bribe people with candy. I am not above bribing people into being donors! I'm of the opinion that anyone who can be coaxed into any sort of activity with candy or toys isn't overly opposed to the activity in the first place."    
More friendly, harmless chatter, to distract Bowline. His field and body language might help, as well, as he was absolutely not concerned in the slightest. This was perfectly safe! Though, he'd have to keep an optic on Draft. Make sure he was still all right with this. And that his patient was all right! "Still tolerable, Bowline?"

 

Sticks didn't say anything for a while, humming quietly at Forceps's reassurances. Now that their anger was subsiding, the apprehension from before began to creep back in. They took their servos away from their face and crossed them in front of their chassis, only to close their optics a few kliks later. Their processor had presented them the scenario where Forceps was dying or dead and demanding a course of action from them. They took a shaking breath, they didn't know, they didn't want to think about it but their mind was persistent. They curled up tighter. Their shoulder plate made a slight clink as it skittered across Forceps's chassis. The sound halted their mind, they realized how Forceps surrounded them, they were warm,  still but not stagnant, and their frame hummed with the elastic energy that only came from living bots. Not only were they fine, they were  _ here _ and they were fine.    
Sticks opened their optics again, realizing that Forceps had asked them a question. They fished for Forceps's servo to hold it gently in both of their own, then sighed, "The Choir knows, mostly. They were there. I think the only one who will find this particularly shocking is me," their voice was quiet as they looked down at Forceps's servo, tracing their thumb along the other's wrist, back and forth, "Does... does it hurt? The donation?"   
.

"Yes, of course," Bowline said. The underlying need to correct Patches was written over by urgency. Her small talk was gone for the moment, traded out instead for only what would get the job done soonest.    
"What were you told?" Draft spoke up at last. He was looking away from both other bots, an uneasy, slightly-nauseous look on his face. He sounded serious, despite his demeanor.    
Bowline turned her helm to get a better look at Draft, he didn't seem quite as composed as she thought he'd be, "What is wrong, Draft?"   
Draft glanced back at Bowline, just her optic, and looked away, "Don't change the subject. Small and round one, what were you told?" His voice wavered a bit, less authoritative than he'd hoped. Damn it all.   
"His name is Patches, Draft, though I share the same concerns," Bowline said, turning to Patches now, "There is a reason Sticks kept this to themself. It is imperative as few people know as possible."   
.

The medbay was quiet for the most part, aside from the occasional beeps of machines and the rumbling of the ship's internal systems, that was, until-   
"Fuck," Salvo said, entering through the medbay door, servos massaging his temples. He still wasn't decided on what he'd do when he got here but now here he was, trying to be less angry, but only succeeding in riling himself up more. Sticks had been in trouble this  _ whole time _ and he'd done  _ nothing. _ And now he would continue to do nothing because apparently he was too angry for that. Nobody wanted him here but here he was. Now what.   
He stood, legs spread apart, head held high, in front of the entrance as the doors closed behind him, exasperated but not yelling, "Now fucking what."

 

Forceps, at a loss for how to get rid of such existential concerns, kept Sticks close and lightly squeezed their servo when it was offered. Which, _finally_ , did not inspire an internal cringe. Dear Primus, it had been... unpleasant, to say the least, to look at Sticks' old servos. Mostly out of an echo of pain, out of the very _idea_ of- ugh, didn't bear thinking about. This... this was good. _.:Mm. I'm enjoying the petting, but... do keep to my wrist and above, ember, or I'm not going to be able to think. And the donation... no, it doesn't hurt. It's not pleasant, to be sure, but I wouldn't call it painful. I've bribed people into being donors with high-grade before. Let me tell you- keeping decent high-grade on servo is a vital tool of bribery. I would offer whoever donates a massage while they're feeling tired, though, I imagine it would be much appreciated. Hm- except Bowline. She must have some working sensors somewhere that would be worth touching. Anything deep in her frame, perhaps?:._   
Fortunately, their anxiety was ebbing somewhat. Sticks was here, was alive, was stable, was no longer showing off their poor, weakened spark and triggering Forceps' urge to _fix_. And they _would_ fix it! They needed the supplies, but they could do this. Sticks would be fine. They needed some rest and some gentle care, but they would be fine. Barring any of... many complications. Fuck.  
.

"Oh, that's one of the cuter things I've been called," Patches giggled, and leaned his helm on Bowline's frame in lieu of patting her with the servos he did not have free. "And, don't worry, we're not exactly going to go telling everyone. Forceps has put the details of their physical issues in the private medbay-pool file, but not how it happened, not really- something about a 'debatably successful jump-start'? It's a fairly important thing for us to know, as medics. We're also probably going to let Crucible know to keep electromagnets and potential electrical shocks away from Sticks, but that could be for... any number of reasons, we aren't giving much away to him and it is a very important warning. Beyond that, no one has to know, and... none of us, except, I suspect, Forceps, know exactly what happened. But we do need to know what's  _ wrong _ , in the hopefully unlikely event that something goes terribly wrong for them and we need to take measures to save them. And they may want to inform Notepad, our therapist, if-and-when they end up in therapy. Now... one last, deep vent for me, Bowline," he crooned, and slowly, carefully, spun the mechanism around as he detached it from her spark. "All right! Give me just a moment to check you for anything iffy-" he muttered, leaning in slightly to get a look at her, then leaned back, took his shoulder off her frame, and beamed up at her.

"You're all done! Your spark is reacting as it should- that is to say, not quite pleased, but fully functional. Please don't try to stand up. In fact- give me a klik, I'll get some extra berth pads and you can just lay on the floor some. Even if you feel all right, you need to let your spark figure itself out right now. Draft- you saw what this entails. Are you ready? I know you're a bit uneasy, but it really isn't that bad. You can lay down for this if you'd like, or- you can back out! You aren't obliged to do this just because they're your friend, I can find another donor if you aren't comfortable. I won't do anything to your spark that you aren't completely up for, sweetie," he sighed, transferring the device to another container, then paused and held up the container- mostly metal, with a few thin lines of glass down the sides, showing the flickering light inside. "-there we are. That used to be part of your spark, but, if you watch it now, it'll gradually lose your particular colorations and shift to a... sort of generic color."    
.

Notepad squeaked slightly, a bit spooked, then quickly subspaced their data-pad. It was a patient file, couldn't be showing that off. "-oh! Oh dear. Ah. You could come over here and tell me what you're looking for and if you need medical attention?" they suggested, a bit quietly, not quite sure how Salvo would respond. "Is it- I gather something's going on with Sticks? They seem to be in no imminent danger- I'm not exactly sure, but Patches didn't seem all that concerned. His winglets do something rather distinctive and unhappy when someone is doing poorly. Now- whatever's the matter, shouting at the room won't help any. Would you like to come over here and talk about it?" they asked, genuinely, crossing their legs and sitting nice and respectably as they faced Salvo. They still looked a bit bandaged up and possibly rather in need of protection, but they looked coherent enough, and fairly inviting with their winglets raised and fanned in such a way that it presented the padded insides.

  
  


Sticks cracked a slight smile, "Yeah I know babe, I don't plan on testing exactly how good you are at doing your job aroused any time soon," they laid the back of Forceps's servo in their lap and took to slowly massaging their wrist, "though I am... curious. Once I think of a way to test those skills without gross malpractice, I'll get back to you." They chuckled a bit, "It's funny you mention keeping a bottle of high grade around. Back on Exolus-3 I had- something, the label was gone. I know it was energon, it was strong-smelling , about the nicest thing we'd found, that's for sure. Granted, the bar was very low. Never got to try it. And," they laughed a bit more, "I just ended up leaving the damn thing behind after all those years of keeping it. Guess I'll have to find another one."    
Sticks glanced up at Forceps, weighing whether or not to say what they were going to say, surely it couldn't have been more shocking than what had already been said, "Actually I was saving it for someone... You ever heard of the Necrobot? Don't look at me too strangely but I've uhh... met him... several times. It was never under good circumstances but we had a few talks. The thing that struck me most about the mech was that he seems just... unbelievably lonely, I wonder if he ever had any friends, if he ever took any breaks. Eventually I got ahold of the bottle and I said to myself the next time I saw him I'd offer him some. So I hid it away from everyone and didn't even try it. I suppose it's a good thing I never got the chance, huh. Meant I got better."   
.

 

Bowline's chassis rolled together with a low rumble. Some deeply-hidden tension within her seemed to release slightly. She leaned back against the berth. She'd done all she could for the moment. Now that her mind was clearer, she could focus on regaining the room, as little as there was to regain. Now Draft, up on the berth, she could feel the slightest inkling of a tremble. His field smelled like fresh-cut rocks and it was clear he wasn't enjoying the feeling. Ah, there was a reason she never saw him in the medbay without Salvo. It appeared Sticks's distinctly non-medic appearance was good for the both of them.    
She turned her helm to look back at Draft. He met her optic with a stoic gaze which had hastily plastered over something distinctly anxious. His servo gripped the berthpad. So he  _ was _ determined.    
"Patches, I do not believe you will have to find another donor," Bowline said at last, "Give him a moment."   
Draft closed his optics and took a deep breath. Bowline saw his servo unclench from the sheets.   
"I know you want to do this for Sticks, but you would be serving me as well," Bowline leaned over slightly to get closer to him, "In a roundabout way you would be serving yourself too."   
Draft nodded and opened his optics again.   
"Do you want me to retrieve Salvo?" Bowline already knew the answer to the question.   
"No, I'll be alright," Draft said, at last, kicking his pedes up onto the berth and laying back. He turned his helm to face Bowline, gave her a brisk nod then closed his optics and opened his chassis, "Tell me when you're done and the tool is away."   
Bowline reached her servo back to hold Draft's.   
.

Salvo's helm whipped around to find the source of the voice. He stared for a moment at Notepad, mouth pressed into a thin line then sighed, taking another look around the medbay and finding it devoid of anyone he was looking for. "Fuck, why not," Salvo said, shrugging aggressively as he made his way over to Notepad's berth, " _ I _ sure don't have a plan."   
He slowed down when he approached, noticing Notepad's bandages, and opted to flop down on the adjacent berth. His exasperated groan was almost drowned out by the loud metallic clattering of his bullet trails hitting his back plating. "They're in trouble and I can't do anything to help them because of the way I am," he said into the berth pad, "On top of that my mech's in one of these rooms, probably getting close to losing his mind and I can't even help  _ him _ because I'm-" Salvo growled loudly with something deep in his frame, "I'm not allowed to be angry." His second vocalizer kicked in, projecting a much deeper undertone to his normal voice.    
Suddenly Salvo whipped his head around to glare at Notepad, "How do you," he paused, at last noticing his voice, when he spoke again it was back to normal, somewhat defeated, "How do you know it was Sticks?"

  
  


_.:Mm. I hear there's something of a market on Cybertron for recovered bottles of high-grade that have been aging for the entirety of the war, tucked away in one patch of rubble or another. I haven't tried it myself, too small for something that strong:. _ Forceps hummed, then glanced down at them and raised one brow-ridge in some degree of surprise. *.:Really now? Interesting. I'd heard enough to guess at  _ something _ existing, but I've never seen any actual proof of their existence. Technically, this isn't proof either, but you're sensible enough that I can take your word for it. Might encounter him for ourselves, eventually... we see enough corpses,:.* they muttered, and lightly rubbed at Sticks' back.  _.:You may get the chance to have a drink with them eventually. I will happily contribute the drinks. Or you could go and brew something with Duo, they are excellent chemists. You do have to make sure they remember it's for others, though, their definition of edible is... unusual. Many things which are safe for them are nowhere near safe for others, and they do... they do get too enthusiastic,:. _ they warned quietly, tucking close up against Sticks, and absently trailed a servo down to stroke their chassis and throat. Checking their pulse.   
Patches had better hurry up.   
.

Patches petted Bowline's shoulder for a moment, watching Draft, then sighed and stood up. "All right. If you need to stop, you  _ tell me _ ," he warned, leaning in slightly, and set a servo on Draft's lower servo. "This is going to be faster for you than for Bowline, since you can donate less energy. Nice, deep vents, Draft. I'm going to lean on you a bit," he narrated, leaning his weight against Draft's lower chassis, "and I'm going to bring the tool down now. Just... breathe. You're a big help right here, Draft, let me tell you. Don't you worry, we'll get Sticks feeling better very soon. We just have to keep magnets off of them for now, and it's probably a good plan to keep them away from strong magnets for the rest of their life, just in case."    
Humming a soft, reassuring tune and pulsing a similar tone through his field, he purred the whole way through the short procedure, then crooned reassuringly and pulled it away. "There- almost done, just... let me... done," he declared, turning away to hide the tool, field still thrumming gently. "There! Now, seriously, stay down- I'm going to get you some pads to lay on, Bowline, the both of you should probably be more or less horizontal for a little while. Either of you hungry?"    
.

Notepad kept their soft, professional look on their face despite a flicker of alarm at Salvo's actions, but the internal unease settled away as Salvo sat elsewhere. Their winglets jerked up at the  _ glare _ , but they otherwise stayed still and quiet, and their voice was calm and stable when they explained.  "Well. Two other members of your group came in here, looking concerned but uninjured, and now you're in here. I know Sticks is in that room" a slight point "with Forceps, and I know Sticks had something of a 'we need to talk' expression when they were walking in. I made an educated guess, and you didn't correct me. It's possible you're worried about someone unrelated to the group, but the guess was worth a try."    
After a moment, they leaned slightly towards Salvo, focusing in particular on his voice. "Now... two questions for you.  _ How _ did you do that to your voice, and... why aren't you allowed to be angry? If it's a matter of location, I agree that you shouldn't be angry  _ in the medbay _ , but you could be angry somewhere slightly less sensitive. If not... barring anything that makes you respond to your emotions in an extremely abnormal way, I see no reason why you shouldn't be angry. So... are you willing to tell me? I'm Notepad, the ship's therapist, so- I may be able to help some with this emotional turmoil, or, at the very least, point you towards somewhere you can work those emotions out. I'd normally offer you my alt as a place to sit, but, well- I've had a bit of an incident," they chuckled, gesturing slightly to their bandages, "and I'm not certain I want to transform right now."

  
  


"To be honest I'm surprised you haven't seen him already. I'm sure Duo can make something nice for... for him," Sticks trailed off as they noticed Forceps's lingering servo, their voice quieted a bit, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing Forceps. I mean, I guess I don't blame you but, believe it or not, I've lived this way for a long time, through much,  _ much _ more stressful situations. And even in these past weeks I've been on this ship, I've been fine, as usual. Even though I have apparently been in a great deal more danger than I thought, it doesn't change the fact that I was okay enough to get by," they gently put a servo on Forceps's, "I'm not just gonna perish at any given klik. It has been fine, It's gonna be fine. I trust you, and I trust Patches, and I trust Bowline and whoever else she brought along."   
Sticks leaned forward a bit, shifting their servo down to Forceps's wrist again and brushing their fingertips against their own neck, as if to make sure, "We're gonna be alright."   
.

The instant Draft opened his optics, his chassis snapped closed. Instinctually he sat upright, "A-ahh" by the time his mouth was open, the sheer fatigue of donation and residual stress had caught up with him. His optics seemed to phase out for a moment, enough for him to fall backward onto his forearm. Bowline, at last beginning to feel the effects of the procedure, lifted a very heavy servo to try to catch Draft. She managed to support his shoulder, which was now visibly trembling along with his entire frame. Draft groaned through some heavy breaths.    
"Lay down Draft," Bowline said, voice her usual steady monotone, albeit slightly slower. She gave his shoulder a light push, "You are not alone here, I'll be with you the whole time and I suspect Salvo will arrive eventually as well."   
All Draft could really do was give her a withered look before awkwardly laying back down again.   
Bowline turned to Patches, "I could use something, I believe. Reason dictates so. Thus by that logic, so will Draft, when he's more adjusted."   
.   
Salvo shook his head as Notepad explained their thought process. When they put it that way of course it made sense. He hummed a bit, "A therapist, huh..." he looked like he had a followup thought to it but seemed to change his mind mid-sentence, "well you're the only one here and I can't face my friends right now so I'll talk, I guess. My voice is umm, I've always had it. Production glitch gave me two vocalizers. I can control em pretty well if I'm concentrating but-" Salvo sighed and shook his head again, "can't do that now. Processor's too screwy. And I can't be angry because..." he trailed off, cocking his helm slightly in thought, "I get angry and people think it's about them. It's not about them. I'm just. I'm angry, and it hurts people."   
Salvo curled up on the berth, putting his servos over his face, "And I can't hurt people right now, especially not Sticks."

 

Forceps made an annoyed scoffing noise through their vents, but didn't stop, still focused on Sticks' vitals. _.:We both know about my paranoia. It does not like the state of your spark. I am a medic who is acutely aware of the many ways your spark is differing from the norm. You can tolerate my pulse-checking until Patches is done,:._ they declared, as if complaining, but leaned down to bump their forehelm into Sticks'. The care and reassurance were appreciated. Helped, a fraction.   
A comm message from Patches, and Forceps straightened up slightly, sawlets flickering. Hm. _.:Patches has collected the first dose of energy and will be in as soon as Draft and Bowline are comfortable and settled. So... what would be the most comfortable way to do this? Ideally we'd have you lying on your back, with... some level of restraint, if that's all right. The frame occasionally jolts at the start of this procedure in response to the energy. Would you mind Patches keeping his servos on your shoulders for the first klik or so to be sure you don't jolt into my servos? He's done it before, and he's entirely happy to be blindfolded if you want that bit of privacy. Once your frame has started to adjust to the increase in energy, he can let go. Is that all right, Sticks?:._   
.

"I told you to stay down," Patches scolded gently, bustling out of the room, and came back with two berth pads and a heap of blankets from one of the closets. Humming, he laid out the two pads on the floor for Bowline, right up next to each other so there was plenty of room for her, and tucked a couple of blankets over her. Draft next, then a bit of all-'round fussing over the two, checking pulses and scanning them and making sure the blankets were straight and not about to come off. Once he was satisfied, he patted each of them on the shoulder, then pulled three smallish cubes of energon from subspace- one to hand to Draft, two for Bowline. "Drink up. Slowly. Message me immediately if anything starts feeling strange, and do not leave this room! You can, of course, sit up and move around once you feel better, but you're not to leave until I check up on you once more. I'll make sure someone lets you know how Sticks is doing."    
With that, he bustled out of the room, winglets up, and went to knock on the door to the room Sticks and Forceps were in. "Hello? It's me!"    
.

"Oh, dear. Let me see- you're Salvo, yes? Salvo, do you mind if I come over and sit next to you?" Notepad offered, leaning in slightly, optics on Salvo. "My alt is a couch, and normally I'd have someone on it to talk like this, so I'm rather driven to be up close to anyone I'm advising. Especially someone this upset. Entirely up to you, of course! And- that voice of yours? Do you sing? I'd very much like to hear you, I suspect it would be lovely."    
Humming softly, they lifted their winglets and kept presenting that soft, gentle, open look, inviting Salvo to talk, the very picture of someone willing to listen. "Now, dearie- that business about the anger? I'm not sure who's been telling you that, and I'm sure they meant well, but it's not the best advice. At all. You're allowed to be angry! Unless it's destructive to something useful, or you actually,  _ physically _ hurt people, or become verbally abusive, you are  _ absolutely _ allowed to be angry. It is absolutely a reasonable reaction to something being wrong with your friend! Come, now- you can be angry. If anyone is concerned, I can tell them it's because you're worried. That, people will understand. And are you willing to give me any information about what's wrong? Nothing specific, of course, I can respect their privacy, but- illness or injury, chronic or acute, that sort of thing. Is that all right?" they asked, voice gentle, helm cocked slightly, looking something between curious and caring. Mostly because that was what they were feeling. Mostly, they wanted to help, but they also wanted to know. They liked knowing things, especially about what was upsetting someone.

  
  


"I absolutely do mind," Salvo said, getting up and moving to sit down on Notepad's berth, " _ I'm _ not injured." His weight suddenly hitting the berth caused the cushion to puff up, pushing Notepad slightly into the air. "I'm... not gonna tell Sticks's secrets to you, no way. But they're... sick. We all kinda knew something had to be wrong with em but apparently they're much sicker than we'd thought. And I'm... -hah- I'm so angry at myself for not being able to help them or keep em from hurting themself. I just wanna go yell at Bowline and Draft for not... not lettin me help  the second I could, but they're right, it's not useful and it's not the right place. They don't deserve that. Doesn't stop me from being-"   
The sound of Patches knocking on the door ripped Salvo's attention away. He rocketed up with enough force to propel himself a few steps forward. Sticks was  _ in _ that room. He could-   
No he couldn't.   
His servos clenched into fists for a moment as he stood and watched the door close behind Patches. He loosened his fists with a sigh and turned to sit back down. He sat on the berth for a few silent moments. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, "yeah I- I sing. I don't have the mind for it right now but if you ask me when I'm calmer I can show you."   
.

Sticks startled at the noise, optics going wide again as they realized the time had come. "C-come in,"  they said to the door. They untangled themself from Forceps a bit, "I'm not sure I like the idea of the person holding me down being blindfolded... Nor do I really like the idea of being held down while my spark is out... And now that I think about it, I don't like the idea of people doing things to me in general right about now," their face fell to a bitter grimace, "Just about no part of this is something I'm ready for but I know it's gotta happen."   
Sticks shook their head, putting their arms around their knees and curling tight, "Tell me how it's gonna be done the easiest for you and I'll do it. Cause there's no way this is going to be a good time for me."

  
  


Notepad looked concerned for an instant, then offered Salvo a genuine smile, shifting gently to move closer. They listened as Salvo spoke, and jumped slightly when he stood up, winglets jerking up in surprise. "-oh! Dearie, I wouldn't- oh, here we are," they whispered as he sat, and, carefully telegraphing their motions, leaned in to set a servo on Salvo's forearm. "Let's leave them alone. They're very skilled medics here, it'll be all right. Once they're done, you can see Sticks. And for now... hm. I'm inclined to suggest that you either talk to Bowline and Draft about that, tell them in a... fairly reasonable volume, or you can yell at me. Not  _ too _ loud, please, but- that's part of my job. If you think it would help to yell about how you feel, I will happily listen. And I promise, I will not share a thing," they offered gently, petting Salvo's forearm in small circles by way of a soothing gesture, field still quietly reassuring but mostly in the background. Not enough to be noted unless someone focused on it- and that was entirely intentional. "If not, that's all right as well. But... we'll stay out here. I'm sure your friends will let you know when you can go in. Now, dearie... breathe. Nice and deep. Try and settle some, think what you'd like to do now. You have some options; do you want me to list the ones I'm aware of, or do you want to run them over yourself?"    
.

Patches came in quietly, field pulsing reassurance and expression soft, and immediately approached the bundle of unhappy minibot. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry we have to do this, Sticks, but I promise you'll feel better soon! Now- don't mind Forceps glaring at me, they still suspect me of being up to something. Honestly, I don't blame them- they're far from the first. It's nothing I've done, I can promise  you," he chuckled, coming up to sit on the end of the berth, and lightly patted his lap. "Here. What if you sit in my lap, lean back some, and I hold you like that? Would that be more comfortable? Or I could find some blankets and wrap you up in those. It'd be a bit awkward, but it might be slightly better than someone holding you. It might not be a good time for you, but we can at least try to make you less uncomfortable. All right?"    
Forceps aimed a bit of a glare at Patches just for the comment, but didn't deny it. True, he... hadn't  _ done _ anything, not really, it was just the way he acted that was suspicious. Still. At least he'd definitely never done anything even remotely suspicious to a patient while any other medic was in the room- even if he did turn out to be trouble, it would be safe here. Sticks would be safe. Lowering their helm slightly to hunch protectively in Sticks' general vicinity, they met their apprentice's optics, offering the most reassuring look they could. It was slightly grim, but it was there.  _.:What's easiest for me is whatever causes you less stress. What, if anything, would help? This should be relatively quick, and he shouldn't need to hold tight for more than a few nanokliks. I'd like to get this over with so you don't have any time to let the worry fester, otherwise I'd try to give you some time to calm down. I don't think you could calm down much if I gave you the time, am I right?:. _

 

Salvo let out an exasperated growl, "I just want to stop being angry! I don't wanna yell. It doesn't help. It'll probably only make things  _ worse _ cause it's a medbay and people are... people are here. There's no outside where I can just scream into the sky and not bother anyone. I can't help anyone. I can't do  _ anything. _ "    
Salvo hunched over slightly and quickly, without thinking, reached a servo to slide two fingers under his forearm's plating then gave it a couple violent tugs. He tensed all through his back and hissed, the anxiety and anger in his field mixing with a touch of pain. When he realized what he was doing, he wouldn't meet Notepad's gaze. His servo clenched into a shaking fist once again. He almost pulled away from Notepad, almost. Their touch radiated a calmness that he couldn't quite ignore, it felt... familiar in a way. Something about this little stranger was inspiring some... very warm feelings. He turned his attention to his periphery and could almost swear he saw Sticks instead, hunched over his arm to fix his bent plating. Of course. His gaze darted over to Notepad for a split-klik then back to staring at the wall, "You're... the same size as them."   
.

"You're right I'm definitely not getting any calmer any time soon," Sticks said, giving a very quiet nervous laugh. They could already feel their anxiety ramping up, "I... fuck, I dunno, I guess blankets would be best. Or-" a thought occurred to them, a very grim thought, one they hadn't had to consider for while. Prepare for the worst. They took a deep breath and closed their optics. If this went awry -which it could, they bet, in any numerous kinds of ways-  they thought, they'd like to see Forceps's face first and foremost, and... dying in Patches's arms would definitely be better than on an impersonal berth. They hung their helm low and reached down with their mind. It was more difficult this time, they realized as they felt their throat catch, their brow ridge furrow. Leave it all, leave it all. After a few kliks they opened their optics again with a deeply heavy sigh. They were calm at last.    
"I changed my mind, please hold me Patches," Sticks's voice didn't waver, it was without any intonation, sunk like a stone in still water. They were ready for the worst.

  
  


Notepad aimed a vaguely concerned look at Salvo's arm-tugging, but didn't comment, not yet. Instead, they offered Salvo a tiny smile, still petting his arm, and pricked their winglets. "I am, aren't I? I'm not surprised that has some nice feelings attached to it for you- I doubt you've meant many bots this size, and size is a very important point of recognition. Now... that" a slight gesture towards the plating he'd been tugging on "is probably not the healthiest way to deal with your anger. Not least because it's going to increase your frame's stress, which is only going to make that anxiety worse. It... helps you feel slightly more controlled, I imagine? And you aren't doing any serious damage, so I'm certainly not going to try to make you stop. But... maybe we could come up with something else to help you calm down? I'm going to start purring now," they narrated, and did just that, a soft, soothing prurr somewhere in their chassis.

After a moment to pet his arm and let their purring get a bit louder, they looked back up at him, offering him a smile. "Purring like this can help anyone who hears it to relax slightly. It's a signal that things are safe. So, unless it bothers, I'm going to keep purring while we talk. And... I'm not going to tell you that you don't have any right to be angry, all right? You are certainly entitled to be angry. But... I may be able to help you settle those emotions. So!" they chirped, winglets twitching up, "let me try and figure you out. The way you're behaving, I seriously doubt you tried not to help. If you could have helped, I think you would. Just because you didn't help doesn't mean whatever happened is your fault, all right? Especially not if- you said something that makes me think you might not even have been  _ there _ . May I ask- did you have any idea that they were going to do... whatever hurt them?" Notepad asked softly, and gave Salvo's arm a little squeeze, encouraging. "I am trying to be as... non-detailed as possible, so please forgive me if I get too close to something, but I am trying. I'm a bit lacking in practice at  _ not _ asking questions, I'm afraid."    
.

"Okay, sweetie. It's all right, now, you'll be just fine," Patches crooned, and scooped Sticks into his lap, pressing the smaller bot's back against his chassis. Oh, Primus, they were so small, he was restraining such a small thing and it almost felt  _ wrong _ , but he knew what he was doing. His field surged out once more, thrumming  _ reassurance/comfort/confidence _ , then retracted so as not to be overwhelming against Sticks' spark, and he pulled a blanket up off the end of the berth, bundling them up in it slightly. Wrapping an arm over Sticks' arms and lower chassis, he pinned their arms down and their back to his chassis, then placed his other servo just below their throat, against their upper chassis, and hooked a leg over both their ankles. They were so tiny, it wasn't hard to hold them still. Tucking his helm down, he purred his engine softly, just behind them, then glanced up and nodded slightly to Forceps. "All right, sweetie, I've got you. You're safe. I have you. Just... breathe, and open up."    
  
Forceps didn't exactly  _ like _ this, and it was showing- their sawlets were clamped to their back, occasionally making quiet noises as they shifted in agitation, but they kept the rest of themself fairly professional. Despite the urge to hit Patches somewhere important and steal Sticks away. Did Sticks know how easily Patches could crush them like this?    
Pushing the thought away, Forceps waited until Sticks opened up, then brought one container up and opened it slightly- holding it far enough away that it couldn't all jump in, but close. A weak spark would grasp at such a strong energy source, and, finding proper spark-tone energy, would draw it in. One simply had to let the trapped energy escape in thin wisps that the spark could easily corral. Simple. Forceps, perfectly still with the container held in position like an offering, stared intently at Sticks' spark for a moment- then risked another violent-rescue urge and glanced up to check on their expression.

 

Salvo couldn't help leaning a bit on Notepad, realizing the company was good for him, "I, well." he sighed, "how can I explain it. I was there... I didn't witness it, they just... did it, the fool. I saw the aftermath. At the time they almost  _ died _ but they didn't. I thought they recovered fine but..." he puffed out a tense breath, "I guess not! This whole time they've been in a lot more danger than any of us knew and I couldn't do anything to help them," he shook his head, "they're fixing em right now."   
Salvo's frame shook a bit with something between a laugh and a sob, "I'm supposed to keep track of everyone. I'm supposed to  _ protect _ everyone. That's my job, and I can't even do that much," his tone lost its laughter, "It was so simple back on the sand planet. I knew what to do and I did it and it helped but now,  _ Primus _ I'm so fucking useless."   
.

There was a loud  _ crack _ as Sticks's spark made contact with the energy. It began to shimmer violently. Its flickering became drastically irregular. Sticks's entire frame tensed up underneath Patches's grip as the energy hit them in a slightly delayed wave. They  _ screamed. _ Their mind was gone, retreated to the back of their processor to make room for utter, unabashed panic. They writhed against Patches's arms. Their spark seemed to reach out of its chamber at the steady trickle of energy, becoming brighter and brighter until it flashed, a blinding flare.    
Sticks was gasping, both medics could hear that before their optics readjusted. They trembled all over, enough to make quick staccato taps against Patches's armor. Once everyone could see again, they found Sticks's optics wide, devoid of anything other than grim, haggard fear, the entirety of their resolve from before evaporated. Their spark was a bit brighter now, notably more regular, and still accepting energy from the jar, though pulsing too fast. Sticks looked up at Forceps's face. They were crying again, energon dripped down their face from their nasal cavity. "It feels like before," Sticks's voice was low, wavering, intermittent waves of static adding a thick distortion, "it feels like before. Don't leave me  _ Forceps, _ " they spoke their partner's name as a whisper.


	9. Chapter 9

Notepad let their purring hitch up a touch louder and gently pressed in closer, comfortably leaned against Salvo's frame. "Oh, dearie, I'm not surprised you're having some trouble. You're an MTO, a soldier, and I doubt you were given even a scrap of an idea what to do other than fight. Soldiers who were born rather than being made are having a hard enough time- not least because the processor doesn't cope well with a massive reduction in stress like this. People tend to... mentally flail a bit, even those who were born before the war. And I'm afraid I can't help too much with that right now, no one can, aside from trying to help you find things to do. For now... let's work on something else," they purred, then glanced up at Salvo and leaned slightly forward, offering their winglets. "Here, would you like to pet the fabric here? The only padding on my alt that isn't subspaced in my root mode. It's not terribly sensitive, and you're welcome to touch if you like the texture, though I'd prefer you be gentle. I'm sure you've noticed- I tend to be tactile during this sort of talk. My alt is meant to be in firm contact with someone, so I'm rather touch-inclined. And you do seem to be enjoying it."

A moment of quiet, and Notepad hummed again, gesturing slightly towards the room. "I saw those canisters, and I'm not a medic, but I do see quite a lot of things. We're talking about spark damage, I gather. So, Salvo, tell me... you're a soldier MTO with, I assume, no medical training, and definitely no medical equipment. In a stressful and dangerous situation, no less. Tell me what you should have done to repair their spark damage," they declared, soft, looking up at Salvo as if genuinely looking for an answer. Hopefully the realization of how silly that was would get Salvo focused on something else. What COULD he have done? Nothing. Except, hm- would a spark bond have helped, or would it have done more harm than good? That much, Notepad didn't know.   
.

Forceps had shut off their audials, not even intentionally, to focus on what they were doing. The squirming- understandable, normal, perfectly fine, not even necessarily an indication if distress. And then they looked up at Sticks and onlined their audials to check, and, dear fucking  _ Primus _ that was bad. They didn't dare move their servos or arms, but the rest of them shifted, leaning in to curl around Sticks as much as possible and push their face into Sticks' shoulder. Their vocalizer clicked helplessly in agitation, but they couldn't speak, couldn't even COMM, couldn't do anything but offer as much contact as possible and try to get this over with. It was  _ medically _ fine, so they couldn't stop now- if they stopped, Sticks would have to calm down and then have this happen all over again. They couldn't put Sticks through that first contact again, couldn't- they had to just- keep going, keep going, get it over with, don't move, don't move, don't move-    
  
Patches whined in the back of his throat, but didn't let go- didn't dare, couldn't take the risk, just kept talking. "It's okay, Sticks, it's okay sweetie, it's all right,  you're okay, you're safe, we're here, I know it's scary but you're okay, we're not going to leave, you're here, it's safe, we're almost done, sweetie, you're okay, you'll be okay, just a little bit longer,  _ it's okay _ -"    
.

After a few agonizingly long moments, Forceps swapped out the first container for the second, for Draft's, which emptied much faster. As soon as it was empty, they- well. Tossed the container aside, bulled forward, shoved Patches out of the way as much as they could considering his size, and snatched Sticks up. Sawlets up and shaking hard, they held Sticks close and tight, shuddering almost as much as Sticks was. They'd held back, they'd managed to hold still and do their job, but, the instant it was over with, they couldn't restrain themself any more and had to get Patches  _ away _ and try to comfort Sticks. At the very least, they could hold Sticks close, try to- well. Try to do  _ anything _ that might help in the slightest.    
  
"Oh, sweetie, I am sorry," Patches sighed, slowly getting up, and very carefully fixed his body language -winglets up, armor lifted out slightly, expression soft and cheery again. Breathe. Sticks had friends and those friends might be out in the medbay, couldn't look as punched-in-the-gut as he felt. That would make people worry. So, he fixed himself up as much as he could, whispered "so sorry" to Sticks, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. It mostly worked, too! He only looked a bit worn. And a little scratched up all up and down his front from Sticks' struggles.

  
  


"I... couldn't have done anything, not once it was done," Salvo said defeatedly, "What... what do I do when I can't do anything? When the problem's still there and it's still bothering me but I can't just  _ ignore _ it." He paused to gently rub his open servo over Notepad's winglet, it was something nice to focus on. Between their soft voice, the consistent purring, and now the almost-meditative action, he could feel his nervous energy ebbing away slightly.    
The sound of Patches exiting the room drew Salvo's attention immediately, he pushed up from the berth and paused. Not angry, people don't like angry. Ask nicely. He turned back to Notepad, "I'll, uh, be back." Salvo walked a skipping half-jog over to Patches, trying his best not to look threatening or angry as his anxiety creeped up a bit. He cleared his throat to get Patches's attention and stopped a fair distance away, he thought. Three feet was an acceptable distance, right? He leaned over slightly so he could be heard, then stopped again. That was looming. At last he settled for reaching out to lean his forearm on Patches's shoulder. Casual, friendly, what angry person would do that.    
"How-uhh, so how did it go?" Salvo said, he couldn't really hide the tenseness in his tone, but tried nonetheless, "Can I- hmm,  _ when _ can I see them?"   
.

Sticks was completely limp in Forceps's arms, save for the tremors that danced throughout their frame. For a few minutes their mind was filled with nothing but empty static until something deep inside them realized the sickening feeling adjacent to their spark being tugged on was gone.  It was over. They were still alive and most importantly they hadn't ripped their spark in two again. Their breaths began to even out, gradually. Slower, steadier, although unable to really get rid of the remaining echo of a hitch. Eventually their optics flickered a bit, at last breaking out of the thousand-yard stare. Their gaze traveled as their processor released their sense of space. They were in a brightly-lit room. They were not alone.    
Sticks's optics focused on Forceps, eventually making sense of their face. Soon their limbic sensors came back online. Their arms and legs weren't tired, weren't sore, save for some residual tension they couldn't quite banish. They could feel Forceps supporting them, surrounding them, could feel them trembling. As they regained control of their frame, slowly, piecemeal, their own tremors waned. They took a deep breath, then another, stringing their frame together as best they could.

Thoughts began to trickle in from behind Sticks's mental partition. Firstly they were okay, nothing hurt. They had survived, even though they had been scared enough to completely lose their mind. They were conscious, at least they thought, all they could truly process right now was the overwhelming emotional exhaustion, the emptiness. And Forceps was there, they definitely weren't doing too well either. Sticks blinked a few times, testing that once again they could move if they chose to, then slowly, sweetly raised their servo to caress the side of Forceps's face, focusing on the feeling at the tips of their fingers as they slid over their helm plating. They wished they could give Forceps a smile, let them know they would be okay, that it was going to be okay. But they couldn't quite manage the task. They drew the side of their thumb over Forceps's cheek ridge, looking into their optics with a blank, tired expression but communicating nonetheless that they were here.

 

"That is an unpleasant situation. The best you can do is try to work things out so it doesn't bother you, because that doesn't do you or anyone else any good. We can- oh, you go ahead, we can discuss it in a few minutes," Notepad declared softly, making no effort to stop Salvo from getting up. That definitely wouldn't work, they were much too small and Salvo was very determined. They'd just sit here and wait.    
  
Patches was already turning to Salvo, and didn't even seem to notice the touch. "Oh, goodness- here you are," he sighed, shaking his helm slightly, and offered Salvo the best reassuring smile he could do. It was a bit shaky. "Well- they're all right, but they were unfortunately rather stressed by the donation, so they're probably very tired right now. I don't think they're going to want any company for a little bit. I'm sure Forceps will let all of you know when they do. Give them a few kliks, I'd say, let them rest. Poor dear's had a stressful little while," he sighed, scrubbing his face slightly, and glanced down at the scuff marks on his front. Pit.    
  
Notepad could hear them at that range, and stood up, carefully, to try and get their attention. "Suggestion, dearie? There's a room off the medbay that can be easily set up for stressed people to relax in. Quiet, neutral, with a screen for watching movies on. How about you pick me up and we go in there and set it up for Sticks? That's something you can do to help."    
.

Forceps curled up tighter, something vulnerable trickling through their field, then shuddered and quickly accessed the remote medbay controls to turn the lights down much, much lower. Curling tight around Sticks, they vented deep for a few long moments, trembling still, and couldn't push away a certain specific urge. They were fragile, their patient was fragile, and they felt horribly vulnerable. All they wanted to do was-    
Something they had no reason not to do. Carefully scooping Sticks into their arms, they slunk off the berth, to a cabinet in the corner, and kicked the door open. Shoving a few blankets out to make space, they crept inside and closed the door after them, leaving them bundled up into a small space with Sticks. Specifically, with Sticks in the corner, Forceps between them and the door as if to protect them from any potential threat. The only sound, aside from ragged ventilations, was that of their shaking, raised sawlets rapping against the wall behind them.

After a few more moments, they leaned back slightly, looking down at Sticks, at the shaky glow filling the little space. That- that was a relief. The outer layer of Sticks' spark didn't quite look right, full of energy that hadn't been properly processed, but that was all right. That was expected. Something hadn't gone physically wrong, not really- it had been not ideal, but the trouble had been Sticks' panic. It was all right. Sticks was all right.    
Curling in, they pressed their face into Sticks' throat, something in their throat wheezing as they ex-vented hard, and went completely limp against them. Primus. They'd- this was a bit silly, wasn't it? Hiding in a cabinet like- but, no, Acus wasn't being silly, he felt more comfortable, that was- that was reasonable. This was helping. They were nervous because-    
Because they'd just about been  _ torturing _ Sticks, someone they had considerable feelings for and very much wanted to protect. Of  _ course _ it had been stressful, of  _ course _ they wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere safe, of  _ course _ they were recalling what had saved them and their patients more times than they could count. Sometimes, the best thing to do was hide.    
So, they hid, and they held Sticks tight, and they waited for their stress level to lower enough that they could provide any sort of words. They didn't feel much like trying to sign, not in this confined space, not with Sticks' spark still exposed. Maybe once they closed up- except then it would be dark.    
Maybe they didn't need any words. Maybe this was enough.

 

.   
The room Notepad had indicated was a reasonably small side room, lined with a couple of couches and with the floor mostly padded. Everything was covered in pillows and blankets, and one wall had a large TV screen on it. A bit like the rec room, but dimly lit, and with an air filter taking any sort of scent other than warm-fabric smell out of the air. Sitting on one of the couches was a bot about Salvo's size, maybe a bit shorter, facing away from the door. One winglet twitched at the noise of them coming in, and the bot automatically turned towards them, showing that their optics were- well. Definitely covered, two neat ovals of something soft and flexible over where their optics should be. It didn't outright show that their optics were missing, but the claw marks around the edges of the silicone covers made it rather obvious that something was wrong.    
They were supposed to be at least mostly red, but their paint was dull, albeit clean, and many areas of it were missing entirely. The shadows of medics' insignias were visible on their shoulders, but those had been clawed off as well. And, most alarmingly, they'd quickly hidden something with one servo, and their forearm had "first do no harm" etched into it so deep it must have been halfway through the plating. A bit shaky, they'd laid down the shapes by touch, but distinct. Carved, over and over, etching away a bit of metal at a time, until it was in deep.

 

Salvo looked at Patches's face and sighed, yeah, they would be stressed. At least they're alright. He'd hang onto those words for the time being. Hell he'd have to. Patches seemed off too. Salvo's gaze hung on a bit longer, he'd never seen the mech this way. Sticks must've  _ really _ freaked out, then. "Alright," he said, rather softly for himself. He gave Patches's shoulder a firm squeeze and let go, turning to briskly stride back to Notepad's berth. In one fluid movement, he scooped the mech up and power-walked over to the rec room. Halfway there he paused and looked down at the minibot cradled in the crook of his arm. Something in his chassis seemed to tighten as the memory of fishing Sticks out of their self-imposed prison cell came back to him. Notepad was a helluva lot heavier than Stick was at the time but they both fit the same way in his grasp. He shook his head and continued forward.   
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice the bot as he entered. Quickly he found a spot to put Notepad down, on one of the chairs close to their size, alright it was a little big. Then turned around to survey the room, drawing a finger over his chin. He froze when at last he spotted them, "Fuck, uhh, sorry I just. Thought this room would be empty. Do you mind company? We can. We can leave." He couldn't help but stare at their face. Gnarly.   
.

There was a flicker of something in Sticks's optics as the room got darker, and again as they entered the cabinet. A creeping feeling clawed at them from behind their exhausted mind but they were untouched. Their emotions had yet to fully come back and they doubted they would for a while yet. But they were awake now, slightly more alert, coherent enough to make more complex thoughts.    
The space was filled with shadow, but it wasn't completely dark. It wasn't silent, Sticks wasn't alone. Instead they saw their lover, the sharp angles of their face illuminated from underneath by their own rosy light, dim as it was. Something small shifted inside them. This was alright. It occurred to them that under different circumstances, they would have had overwhelming feelings. Instead they were empty, shocked out of rational response. They shifted their servo further up Forceps's helm, back to their neck and let it rest there for a bit, then brought the other to match. Silently, gently, but with intention they began to stroke, softly petting just where Forceps had shown them weeks earlier.   
A tacit 'I forgive you.'

  
  


Notepad tucked into a contented bundle as they were carried, still purring, and looked around Salvo's shoulder at Patches. "Crucible is in his workshop and Bracer is probably still going through that batch of crates we picked up recently, go hug one of them! Or Blackspark! You need a cuddle, dearie!" they ordered, firm, shaking a finger at him, then looked up at Salvo. "Medics don't tend to cope well with stressed patients, and Patches in particular doesn't do well when a procedure he's carrying out causes a notable level of distress. Not surprising, given the circumstances. But- I'm sure Forceps has it covered. They're quite taken with Sticks! It's almost cute, really, it's- oh, Red."

Sighing quietly, they settled into the chair, squinting slightly as they looked the blind bot over. They couldn't see details at this distance, but the etching was visible- and the guilty body language was visible. Sighing heavily, they gestured slightly to Red, remembered that "come here" gestures were wasted on the bot with no optics, and instead clicked their fingertips together. "Dearie, you're going to do some serious damage if you keep doing this. I- oh. Salvo, I can't see details well at a distance and I don't much feel like getting up. This is Red. At least- we call them Red. They don't want their old name and haven't shared it. Red, this is Salvo, one of the bots we picked up off the sand planet. He's somewhat upset about one of his teammates' current physical condition. Salvo, would you check to be sure that etching doesn't go through the plating? And, whatever that is... Red, please give him what you have in your servo. You're going to seriously injure something if you keep on that way. We've talked about finding pens to use instead, remember?"    
  
Red still wasn't used to not being able to see. As such, they  _ tried _ to look at Salvo, or at least as close to him as they could figure out. It wasn't working too well, they couldn't quite find him, and it was clear. Small motions of their helm back and forth, cocking their helm, trying to nail down the spot he was in. Helm swiveling towards Notepad again, they considered it for a moment, then, slowly, held out the servo they'd been carving with. They were holding a very large screw, the tip of which had flecks of red paint on it, the source clear. Helm cocked slightly further, they tracked Salvo as well as they could, then tucked back into the corner of the couch and offered their forearm to the space next to them. "You can look. If you sit. Want to know where you are."

Their voice was soft, very soft, but had the slightest melodic chime to it. They could have been very soothing to listen to if they hadn't been so quiet.

.

 

Forceps ex-vented deeply and relaxed, slumping limp, helm deliberately lowered to offer their scruff. Optics shut, they curled down and tucked up against the back of the cabinet, snuggling at Sticks' side, offering as much comfort as they could.   
It took them awhile longer, but they finally managed to get their words back, in the form of a comm. _.:I am... so sorry, Sticks. I did not anticipate this much... distress. The significant risk of spark treatment is that psychological distress can affect the spark. But... you are alive, and you are improving. You will be all right, Sticks. Your spark will heal. You are doing well. Please... breathe for me. Look at me. When you can, speak, and tell me how you feel:._   
This was a small space, but they were starting to see the appeal of this sort of thing. It was dark, quiet, soft... felt safe. No wonder Acus liked this. Now... Sticks. They were... absent, slightly, but moving and reacting appropriately. Probably a post-adrenaline lull, or the remnants of their shutdown. Nothing to worry about. _.:Do you want fuel, my ember? If you can... tell me what you feel like, and what you want, please. If not...:._   
Offering both servos, Forceps held one palm-up and the other palm-down, optics opening a crack. _.:Palm up for fuel, palm down if you don't want any right now:._   
There. A very, very simple way to offer an answer. Hopefully they'd get one, they... had never liked a lack of response from anyone. This was all right, it was logically safe, Sticks wasn't in danger, but this still wasn't great.

  
  


Salvo stood silently for a moment, processing the fact the bot in front of them was definitely blind. Self-harming, and blind. He sighed audibly as a way to signal his presence and plucked the screw out of Red's servo, "I'm supposed to be prepping for aforementioned friend if and when they're ready to come out so let me just-" he jogged over to the wall and searched for a panel that controlled the lights, turning it up fairly bright, "there. Better." then made his way over to the couch to flop down next to Red. Without really thinking he palmed their servo to look at the damage,    
"Looks nasty but you didn't draw any energon," Salvo said, trying to sound rather aloof but unable to hide a bit of worry. He didn't really know what to make of them. Even Sticks didn't look this badly-off. Judging by their guilty look, they knew what they were doing was wrong. Salvo remembered the urge to pull his arm plating off, how he'd hide the bent pieces it from Draft, who'd only respond with a sad, pitiful stare. He'd never hurt himself this bad but someone with that look wouldn't want pity. Someone this beat up? Probably had pity in droves. He in-vented deeply, "Mech, hate to break it to you but your penmanship fucking sucks."   
.

 

Sticks sighed and gave Forceps a short nod then began the process of finding their voice. They got as far as a weak hum, that is to say, not far at all, before they realized vocalizing wasn't going to come to them quite yet. They opened and closed their comm lines a few times before sighing again. How could they speak? They didn't really have any words to say. How could they tell Forceps how they were feeling? Communicate the overwhelming emotional exhaustion, the effort it took to bring their vocalizer to make any noise at all? Now that they were thinking about themself, the novelty of being illuminated entirely by their own spark light was gone, it was beginning to feel odd, vulnerable again. But if they closed up, the cabinet would be much darker which they didn't like the thought of whatsoever. Well, that was something they could communicate.    
_.:Dark... it's too dark:. _ Sticks managed to comm at last. After a little more thought, they put their servo under Forceps's, the one whose palm was facing upwards.  _.:Words are... hard right now:. _ they looked Forceps in the optics for a brief klik. That was about as much as they'd get for now.

 

Red didn't pull away from the touch, aware of Salvo's location thanks to the shifting of the couch, but did stare at his face at the remark. Well. At where his face probably was. "I wouldn't know. I am  _ blind _ . It makes writing difficult," they commented, mildly annoyed but genuinely pleased by the complete subject change, and turned slightly towards Salvo. Catching his arm in both servos, they tapped and stroked their fingertips lightly up from his wrist, the tapping slowing and lingering when they found the bent plating. More tapping and probing, soft and curious, Red's winglets quirking out to the sides slightly in evident concern. A quick dip of their fingertips underneath, checking on the gap, then they tap-stroked further up Salvo's arm to look for more.    
The soft patches over their optics meant that their face could still shift. It was a bit impeded by the heavy scarring, not yet healed over, but their concerned expression still read clearly. No damage further up, not that they could find, but they kept moving- starting to shift into Salvo's lap as they reached up to poke around his shoulder.    
"Medics like to know what they can about a bot's frame. If they can't see to find out... this happens. How is your dexterity, Salvo? Have you ever filled in armor damage like this? I have the supplies," Notepad provided gently, optics soft, pulling a small case from subspace. "It's simple enough, but I'm not sure I trust my servos not to shake right now, one of my arms is still rather sore. I'm- I'm all right, Red-" they added quickly, seeing Red abruptly turn towards them, "I had a bit of an incident and got myself singed up. It's been treated, and I'd rather you not inspect me right now- I'm bandaged up and don't particularly want anyone touching most of my side at the moment."

.

 

Forceps shifted away and leaned back slightly, pushing the door open to let in a bit of light, then pulled a small cube of energon from subspace.  _.:You should... close up first. Energon spilled into the spark chamber is not the best thing for your health:. _ they sighed, then opened the cube and brought it up to Sticks' lips as soon as their spark chamber was closed.  _.:No need to speak. All I need right now is to know what you need. Vent, drink, and relax. You need to heal. When you feel ready, we should... probably show your teammates, at least the ones currently in the know, that you are doing reasonably well. I can carry you if you need, but we could... move from this cabinet to Patches' quiet room. There is more space. Not that I need to move- I am content, if you are:. _ they declared, and they looked it, curled up softly against Sticks' frame. They could stay in here for as long as Sticks wanted, barring a medical emergency somewhere.

  
  


Salvo stayed put as Red climbed over him, expression getting increasingly more irritated. They defended themself, good, good, he could work with that. "Alright...  _ alright, _ mech," Salvo said when he'd at last had enough. He put an arm around Red to make sure they wouldn't fall off of him and slowly leaned back to grab the case from Notepad, then sat back up and pushed Red just far enough away so that they were sitting in his lap. He could compromise.   
"I wouldn't say I have the most steady servo, but shouldn't be too hard, right? I've spot-filled things before," Salvo said, looking into Red's face, he frowned when he spotted their twisted audial,  _ Primus _ that's nasty. Between the claw marks where their optics should be and the accompanying welts that covered over their medic markings, it was safe to say, he figured, they were no longer a medic. He at last looked down and opened up the box, caught Red's forearm again and set to work. There were a few tools he didn't recognize but he knew filling paste when he saw it. Scooping out a bit with his finger he massaged it into the first few letters. "Sorry if I'm not gentle enough, these servos weren't exactly made for healing. First aid training was..." he groaned, "a long time ago now. Anyway, what I was sayin was, leave the frame modifications to professionals or else it's gonna look like slag. Look at that, you even forgot the 'g.'"    
About halfway through Salvo looked up at Red to see how they were doing. He stopped what he was doing and with his clean servo gently guided Red's chin upward, until their face was properly pointed at his own, he spoke softly, without the antagonizing edge from before, "And by the way, my optics are up here."   
.

Sticks took the cube from Forceps, holding it on their own. As if breaking out of a shell, they slowly hoisted themself up onto their elbow, testing how it could take weight. Satisfied their frame hadn't completely given up, they then pulled their legs in and pushed themself upright. They spent a few moments of self-reflection as they slowly sipped the energon. Being upright was an entirely different experience than being horizontal, this was nothing new save for the fact their frame had somehow gotten used to orienting itself via the ground. They realized their chassis felt different. It was warmer, first of all, which was slightly shocking given the fact they'd had it open for a while. Their spark seemed to buzz slightly with the new energy. It was strange, new, not entirely unpleasant, but just the feeling of something different in such a vital area was enough to be slightly disconcerting to the frame.  _.:It feels strange. Buzzing:. _ they took a breath in, gathering themself up a bit more,  _.:I'll need to see Bowline and Draft. To thank them:. _

  
  


Red went limp upon being restrained, but didn't comment on it, nor did they seem to mind that much. Impulse, probably, rather than a conscious choice. The filling didn't feel so good, everyone who'd had one done would know that much, but they didn't respond in the slightest. Except to the comment. "No 'g' in this. But there is one in 'annoying'," they mumbled, scoffing lightly, and stilled again at the touches to their face. "And... in... grateful," they breathed, even softer, and kept their helm like that rather than letting it swivel. Their non-mangled audial flickered slightly, and they stayed still for the entirety of the repairs, doing their best to watch Salvo. They could hear him, could feel hints of his frame's signals. A soft, deep breath, and they- well, it would have felt like unfurling their field, except that they hadn't been hiding it. They didn't  _ have _ an EM field before it flickered back on. That was rare in anyone who wasn't specially built or born for spying, and in bots meant to be something other than a spy, it was a signal that something extraordinarily stressful had happened to them over a long period of time. This was a good sign, though, those tiny wisps of  _ curiosity/intrigue/invitation _ . Salvo had their attention, and all of it.    
After a few moments, they lowered their helm slightly, staring at roughly where Salvo's forearm was. "Shouldn't do that. Eventually the latch sites will be too badly mangled to take armor properly, you'll have to wear non-living metal strapped on," they offered softly, the tiniest bit of concern in their voice. "You still have a job to do. Arm plating is important. Prevents crippling damage if something falls against your forearm."

.

_.:I'm not surprised. Your frame is going to have to adjust to the sensory input of an increased energy level, you may be unusually aware of your spark chamber for some time yet. Bowline and Draft are... probably in another of the private rooms, resting after the donation. They will be tired for a little while, and I doubt they will be allowed to leave until a medic has checked them out- just to be sure of no complications. Patches also... left me a message about Salvo having turned up. Since the door is intact, I believe we can safely assume he is still relatively calm:._   
Curling in tighter, Forceps leaned their helm against Sticks' chassis, listening to their pulse and enjoying the sensation of energy against their antennae. They could feel Sticks' spark from here, and it was... stable. Safe.   
This was working out about as well as they could have hoped. The panic was bad, but the outcome... the outcome was workable.

  
  


The hint of an EM field gave Salvo pause, there was something greatly endearing about this bot already. He shook his head, grinning slightly, "You know if you squint hard enough there's a 'g' in hypocrite too. I'm no medic but I've gotten sand stuck in cracks a lil like these before. You know what it's like having to sit while someone scoops stuff outta your plating scratches? Truly truly awful. Probably weakens the plating itself too now that I think about it," he finished applying the filler paste and gave the area a quick wipedown with his servo, not great, but not bad. Patting Red's forearm gently, he continued, "How about a deal, I'll do my best to stop if you do the same. Hold each other accountable, yeah?"   
Salvo looked down and began rummaging through the case, finding a place to put the tin of filler paste back as well as absentmindedly looking for things he knew, "though I'd have to disagree with you. There's no proper job for a gun in peacetime. They didn't think to teach me any marketable skills aside from survival. So it seems we're both rather unemployed at the moment..." he sighed, feeling a little bit of the uselessness come back, "that's no reason to let ourselves run to waste, though. Figure it's worth trying just to stop people from dumping pity on a mech. Though it's worth saying, you, friend, probably get it way worse. Least you can't usually see some bent plating." He pulled out a roll of bandages and squinted, "You want me to bandage you up- actually-" he turned to look at Notepad, "Bandages? The filler paste I'm used to sets with light but then again it was made from bugs. Don't want it to not harden."   
.

Sticks put their free servo on the back of Forceps's helm, running their fingers along its edges. They sighed and hummed softly, Patches they'd have to visit too. They didn't think they could handle the psychological impact of being witness to their own meltdown. Or... they supposed, being complicit in it. He was among the more sensitive medics, too. There was a lot of raw emotion there that Forceps had at least seen in part before but Patches? They'd made sure not to show anything remotely close to weakness around him, which wasn't hard given he wasn't in such close proximity to them most of the time. It was in the hope that someone of note wouldn't think them an incompetent mess. Hmm, so much for that. Perhaps they'd mourn their loss of face, perhaps they'd celebrate the freedom of not worrying about keeping up appearances. They'd figure out which it was in time.   
Sticks finished the last of their cube and shifted a bit, tentatively reaching a servo onto their chassis. It was a strange but welcome feeling, the warmth at the tips of their fingers as they approached their centerline, something they had not felt for a while.   _.:If the other two are resting, we should see Salvo first:. _ they managed, once again getting a grasp on words. They looked down at Forceps and turned to rest their cheek on the back of their helm. Forceps had had it rough, too, as evidenced by the fact they were now both in a cabinet.  _.:how are you feeling, Forceps:. _

 

"Sealant, first," Notepad called from where they'd leaned over the edge of the chair, attempting to reach under it and access the remote someone had dropped. "And we do have things you can do! But, truthfully, not sure what Red could do at the moment. A blind medic-frame with an aversion to providing medical care, who isn't yet used to being blind? It's an unfortunately complicated puzzle. No one of our species does well with nothing to do, and anyone who's been rendered incapable of performing a significant number of possible jobs is in a bit of a bind. It's an issue! Poor dear. Bear in mind- I am not calling them useless! Only... let's say  _ hindered _ ."

"I have no use. I am, by definition, useless," Red pointed out, helm turning towards the noises of the items in the case. "You could help to clear new areas of feral animals to aid the rebuilding efforts I'm told are under way, and you feel... healthy and strong enough. You can learn a new vocation. At the least, you can do manual labor. I... am a frametype specialized for a purpose which relies heavily upon sight, but I will  _ not _ \- I will  _ not _ " a violent shudder, their EM field vanishing again, and their servos rose as if to paw at their optics before they corrected themself. "-I will not reclaim my sight, I will  _ not _ return to my purpose, I will  _ not _ , I will- no. There are no jobs for blind bots whose alts are something other than tools. I exist only because my survival instincts will not permit me to die," they explained, soft, staring at where they were fairly sure Salvo's face was. "I suppose I could become an organ donor. Or an incubator."    
A quiet flicker of their expression, and they slowly reached out with both servos, locating Salvo's chassis, so they could curl up. Back against the couch, still halfway in Salvo's lap, their forearm in easy reach of both his servos. When they spoke again, their voice was even smaller, less matter-of-fact. "I don't want to be an incubator."

.

_.:Tired and vaguely paranoid. This is... survival impulse, mostly. Hiding is a useful impulse in some cases. When I am feeling... especially insecure in my safety or the safety of a patient, but have no immediate threat to attack, my impulse is to hide. I... saw no reason to resist it:._ they explained, optics dim, leaned up against the wall for support. _.:Do you feel ready to move around? I can carry you, or find you a wheelchair, and I have no objections to going to talk to someone. I... am going to suggest that you also show Patches, if we can easily locate him, that you are well. He is... if you take him at face value, he is extremely empathetic. I suspect he would like to hear from you that you are no longer in significant distress. If you would be comfortable talking to him:._   
Definitely not something to push on. They weren't sure how Sticks was going to feel about Patches after all this. Pit- didn't even know how _they_ felt about Patches. But... if their suspicions were wrong, and he really was that sweet, it would be kind to let him know that Sticks was... no longer screaming. It had been bad enough for Forceps, but Patches- ugh. _.:And I would... recommend Bowline and Draft first. They will, I suspect, be happy to see you, and they should be awake enough to talk to you. Besides, Salvo is rather a lot. May be best to let yourself work up to that. He means well, I'm sure, but he... really is a lot:._

 

"No! No nononono," Salvo cried, shaking his head, "agh, fuck. Red, no. You're  _ alive, _ you can  _ think _ and-and   _ feel _ why would you become an organ donor? Or-or an incubator? No.  _ Fuck _ that. That's not happening." Why was he so worked up? He grabbed Red by the shoulders and pulled them in close, wrapping his arms tightly around them. He could feel his processor clicking cleanly into protection mode. They were a  _ stranger, _ why did he... why did he care so much? He tucked his face next to their neck as the thought came to him aloud, "I've seen too many people die under my care, when I was supposed to be protecting them, doing  _ my _ job, to witness someone give up right in front of me. No, Red. You don't need to reclaim your sight, you don't need to be a medic again, your job is to survive. You hear me?" to his surprise, Salvo's voice broke, "Your job is to survive. You're gonna find something else to do, something you can do to feel useful again because that's apparently the only fucking feeling we can cling to in this post-functionist society. But until then-" He pulled away, a servo on either of Red's shoulders as he looked the mech directly in the face, his own close enough so they could tell he was serious, "Your job is to survive."   
Salvo realized he was panting. His field was billowing  _ determination/distress/care _ with a hint of disbelief, "and I'm gonna hold you accountable for that. You hear me?" Salvo realized he was yelling again and lowered his voice, "you hear me, Red?"   
.

Sticks pat Forceps's head gently. Good to know that 'distressed' or any variations of 'sad' were missing from their assessment. They seemed much better than they were earlier, but Sticks would definitely have to return to them once their compassion came back to them.    
_.:I'd like to try walking:. _ Sticks commed. The mental image of themself in being carried places after this was, slightly unpalatable. After all they'd walked in just fine. They may be able to call the entire exercise a net win if they could walk out, even if they couldn't bring themself to smile quite yet. Then again, they had no idea how their spark in this state would react to the combination of physical exertion, as mild as it was, and being upright. They weren't about to risk another injury to add to their now growing list. Perhaps they'd best resign themself to being transported. They inched out of the cabinet, pushing the door open all the way with a light kick.  _.:Patches first, Draft and Bowline, Salvo, briefly, then a nap:. _

 

Red flinched, hard, and started trembling at the outburst and sudden motion. The words caught them even more off guard, though, the- the  _ care _ . Genuine concern. And distress, oh- that had evidently upset Salvo much more than they ever would have wanted. No, no, that- they didn't want-    
They-    
Shivering, thought processes skidding to a halt amidst a mire of confusion, worry, and lingering concern, they glanced away and tried to squirm back to hide in the couch again. It didn't work particularly well, they didn't dare pull too hard against the restraining grip, but they brought their servos up and pawed at Salvo's arms until he let go, then-    
They didn't want to escape. They didn't want to be held, didn't want to be isolated out away from cover, but they desperately wanted to- but Salvo had wanted them not to touch, before, had-    
Still shaking, they pressed hard against the back of the couch, just about burrowing into Salvo's side. They couldn't  _ not _ unless they were told not to, they- they wanted to be  _ held _ , wanted to feel-    
They didn't deserve the affection, they'd been  _ weak _ , but it hadn't been their fault that they'd had such easily exploitable code, but Salvo had tried to make them stop touching, but he kept touching  _ them _ , but they  _ wanted _ , dear dead-and-gone Primus they  _ wanted _ , and Red made a shaky, pleading little noise as their clamped-down winglets rattled against their back. It could have been a very bad sign, except that their field was starting to sprout again, trembling  _ confusion/want/need/hope/worry/thanks/need/need/please/warmth/need _ in a bundle of emotion that was almost,  _ almost _ leaning into something positive. Confused, working off a bit of an adrenaline burst, and concerned about Salvo, yes, but here and aware and nowhere near frightened off.(edited)

"Oh- oh, dearie," Notepad sighed, shaking their helm slightly, and slumped back into their chair- energy all spent. Just enough energy to drag a blanket into their own lap. "They were, ah- held prisoner and not exactly treated well for a significant length of time. Contact is usually all right, shouting is tolerable, but they don't do so well with being unexpectedly grabbed. And they do respond oddly to compassion. Just, ah- offer whatever level of contact you're comfortable with, reach over the back of the couch to grab some of those blankets, and..."    
A pause, Notepad lightly clicking their fingertips together, then offered a quiet little smile. "You know, Salvo, they do need some assistance figuring out how to navigate. I'm too small for that, and Bracer is too large. Do you suppose you could help them navigate for a little while so they run into things a bit less often and build their confidence somewhat? I'm sure it would be a big help, and you  _ do _ need something to do."

.

_.:Acceptable, but stay down for right now,:._ Forceps ordered, slipping out of the cabinet, and stretched before offering Sticks their- well, mostly their arm, not quite their servo. _.:You are going to lean on me, or a crutch, that is not up for discussion. If you feel faint or shaky, you will say so. If you need to sit, you will do so as soon as you can, even if that is on the floor. Now... let's see what you can do. Carefully:._   
Patches had, in lieu of leaving the medbay entirely to look for someone to hold, located Scalpel. He was now sitting on one of the berths, half-hidden by a curtain, with Scalpel in his lap. Hugging her rather tight, no less- the reason he'd gone for Scalpel and not for Acus. She could put up with tighter hugging. She didn't exactly look _enthusiastic_ , but she had her arms draped over his shoulders, leaning comfortably into his frame, petting gently at his winglets. About as tender as she ever got with anyone. And she may not have looked enthusiastic, but she was _calm_ , optics dim and shut about halfway, winglets at a relaxed but pleased angle, armor fluffed far more than it usually was. She trusted Patches, and did enjoy the contact. And, when he had _that_ expression, she was absolutely going to put up with whatever he wanted. If what he wanted was to have her in his lap, face pushed into her front, arms tight around her frame? Sure. She was good. Lifting her helm slightly at the sounds, she opened her optics fully and let them brighten, eyeing Forceps and Sticks but not asking. She knew more or less what was going on, and didn't much have the desire to stop looking comfortable while being held. She didn't look _vulnerable_ , after all, just comfortable and calm. In this one case, the pressure was nice. Good squeeze.

 

"Ah fuck," Salvo said taking a few moments to breathe, calm down slightly, "Fuck. I did it again. Damn it all." his servo shot to his other forearm but he paused, a finger nervously tapping between layers of plating. No, he wasn't. Not right here. Had to set an example. His frame tensed up for a few kliks until the urge passed. The tension left him in a sickening wave with a vague sense of disappointment and emptiness. He sighed and brought his servo out again, "Sorry, Red. Today's been a little tough to deal with. I'm normally not in the business of um... yelling at strangers, or grabbing them randomly. Fuck."   
Salvo sat up a little straighter and eased his servo into Red's space, snapping a few times so they knew where he was, then slowly pet their helm, going from front to back, making sure to maneuver around their broken audial. He wasn't happy with himself, having spooked another helpless bot, but he had experience dealing with the aftermath. Normally Spade needed some kind of control. Salvo would freeze so they could push him or kick him back. Sticks, meanwhile needed some point of positive contact but not too much, and some words of encouragement. Seeing as they had carved the phrase 'do no harm' into their arm, it was likely they didn't need Spade's treatment. But something about them was odd, they seemed to like the contact on some level yet- they shied away. Well.

Salvo settled for reaching down behind him and picking the blanket up off the floor, "blanket incoming," he warned and draped it over the two of them. Once that was in place he took the initiative and reached his free arm to wrap around Red's shoulders, this time, dragging his finger against the top of the couch so they could hear him coming. Step one, done.   
"I'll do it of course. I can be your optics for now, that is, if you're not too mad at me for, uh, spookin you," Salvo said, his volume was lower but his energy changed very little, "And. Don't forgive me if you don't mean it. You don't have to. We're too far gone at this point for respectability and I can deal with being told I fucked up. If you just want me to leave I can leave, I guess."   
.

 

The entire way across the medbay, a long and tiring process, Sticks thought about what they were going to say. What  _ could _ they say. 'Sorry' would be wrong, they didn't do anything wrong. 'I forgive you' would be a double-no because neither did Patches. Nobody needed forgiveness. What happened was nobody's fault, even though it was thoroughly terrible, Sticks was sure, for both of them. Neither could they apologize for Forceps's immediate reaction of kicking him out because that was neither of their faults as well. There was not a short enough way to say 'that was fucked up because of things out of both of our control and I deeply regret you had to experience that' given their grasp on sentences was shoddy at best at the moment. Except maybe...    
Sticks'd settled by the time they reached where Patches and Scalpel were. They shied away a bit upon seeing Scalpel first, she was still largely intimidating, but pressed on, leaning heavily on Forceps. They took a deep breath, Patches deserved speech after all that. "Pa-Patches?" they vocalized, their throat felt like they'd gargled sand and their vocalizer really showed it, managing a very broken-sounding dual tone. They cleared their throat and tried again, "Patches?" slightly better, less pathetic by a small margin. They looked up into his face, trying to catch his optic. They tore away from Forceps to stumble weakly to the berth, grabbing the edge and immediately putting as much weight on it as they could, they wanted to be close. Looking up again into his optics, Sticks took a deep, steadying breath and spoke: "thank you."

  
  


"You're all right, Salvo, it was hardly intentional!" Notepad crooned, watching Red settle, and offered Salvo a smile after a moment. "See? Clearly, you have some experience in this, and that's the right thing to do here. They do tend to relax quickly if they were only startled. Now, ah- Salvo, I'm going to comm you. Red, don't answer this, please," they sighed, pinging their code to Salvo, and spoke quietly when the link was opened.  _.:Don't ever use the word 'mercy' around them. 'Oath' is a bad one, too, but 'mercy' will completely shut them down. Don't mention repairing their optics, either, and try to avoid anything about them 'doing their job'. If they do hear some of that, just... pet them and keep doing what you're doing now, but be prepared for them to completely panic. Now... you're doing a good job so far, keep doing this. At some point, see if you can coax them into getting just their audial fin repaired, I'm sure that must be uncomfortable. See if they'll let you stroke around the base, that seems to make them more comfortable:. _

Red pushed their helm into the touches, and crawled further into Salvo's space, taking the contact as a sign that it was okay for them to do this. "Didn't mind. Just startled me. With the. Whatever that was," they explained quietly, and burrowed further into Salvo's side, servo finding their way up to his chassis. "Is it- is this- may I- you wanted me to stop, earlier. Was it the tapping, or the... general contact? You don't seem to- to be objecting to this. May-" they began, then, lifting their face slightly, "-may I sit closer? If you... you are, of  _ course _ , forgiven for- for something well-meant. But, if you... are determined to calm me, then it would... greatly help if I could sit in your lap. If you wouldn't mind. I... especially do well with... being able to lean my helm against someone's chassis. Hearing a healthy spark helps- helps me relax. Would you be... amenable to that?" they asked, quiet, helm leaned against Salvo's side. They were fairly comfortable like this, especially with the arm around them -which they leaned firmly into- and the blanket, but... they'd rather like to sit in Salvo's lap. They wanted more. He clearly  _ cared _ , no one had outbursts like that about things they didn't care about, and that made him trustworthy. "I absolutely do not want you to leave. Please don't leave. Please don't leave me."

.

Patches' winglets shot up at Sticks' voice, and he shifted Scalpel out of his lap slightly to face the smaller bot, immediately sounding concerned. "Sweetie, no- don't strain your voice! Your vocal cords need rest. It's all right, I'm-" they began, and, very gently, took Sticks' servo between his, field reaching tentatively to brush against theirs. Gentle, sweet  _ curious/concerned/investigation _ , soft against Sticks' frame, not pushing in the slightest. "Please don't strain yourself! Oh... hello. I'm glad you're feeling slightly better. And I'm sorry that was so hard for you! I should have realized the connotation would upset you. Normally, if I have to do an energy transplant like this, it's someone who has a chronic illness or was weakened by a weapon, it's rarely if ever anything to do with direct contact. You really should be resting, goodness- though I suppose you're small enough not to hurt yourself too badly if you fall," he chuckled softly, looking quiet and genuinely happy. He wasn't upset any more- none of that had been personal, it was just the distress that had upset him, and now Sticks seemed to be much calmer. Mostly just tired, poor dear. They'd be all right.

Scalpel, leaning over Patches' frame with vague interest, continued to absently pet one of his winglets. "We got wheelchairs, ya know. Gonna hurt somethin'. You look pretty coherent for a bot who's just had their spark flooded with energy. By the way- Notepad's fine, they're off in th' soft room over there. Salvo turned up. The other two- far as I know they're still in the side room, Bowline in particular ain't any size to sneak out. Haven't checked on 'em yet. If you go visit,  _ sit _ , ya stubborn little thing," she ordered, though her voice was softer than usual, and her optics were calm and just slightly dimmed. She was still leaning on Patches, one leg more or less in his lap, draped against his back, thoroughly comfortable with him. Sweet.

 

Without thinking Salvo accepted the comm code, only realizing what he'd done halfway through Notepad's explanation. He bristled slightly and tried to listen while pushing away thoughts of being hacked. Stupid. This was crucial information and all he could think about was that? When Notepad finished it took quite a bit for him to properly process what they said. He scowled at Notepad, "don't just  _ do _ that. I use words or nothing at all. No comms," He tried to keep his voice even, they didn't mean it, he hadn't thought to tell anyone outside the Choir, "Thank you for telling me but don't do that again. Write it down or tell me outright." He shuddered away the last of his paranoia and blocked Notepad's line. His mind was safe again at last. His visor dimmed a bit as he took a few steadying vents, "It's not personal, Notepad. Nobody gets processor permissions. Nobody."

Salvo sighed and addressed Red, giving them a light tap on the helm, "To be honest, Red I never had a mech my size try to crawl on top of me like that before. Couple of small ones, sure, they weren't strangers though," he grinned a little bit, voice lowering in intensity, "but now, fortunately, neither are we. Now, let me just-" he gently nudged Red into his lap, readjusting the blanket accordingly, "There. And-right. I've been told my spark's a little tricky to find, something about the way I'm built but there's one spot, I know, where it's a bit different," Salvo slid his servo underneath the other side of Red's jaw and slowly guided their helm to rest just under his autobrand, "Somewhere around there. Guess it's my weak spot huh..." saying that out loud was not the best decision he could have made, Salvo realized, but there was nothing threatening about either of the bots in the room with him. He could take them if he needed to. He looked down at Red, easing quite a bit, "So-um, you're okay. I'm staying. Do what you need to. Touch... where you want-except for the junk."    
It was almost startling, Salvo thought as he rubbed his fingers at the base of Red's helm, how quickly and how enthusiastically his processor had decided it wanted to help. But, he supposed, he couldn't look a bot this desperate in the face and deny his instinct. He may be a gun but first and foremost he was a leader, a protector of the weak. Those who he'd vowed to protect no longer needed his protection, but this bot did. And after all was said and done, he still needed something to do.   
.

Sticks frowned, well, as much as they could. There was a lot to say in response to what both of them said, but nothing they could properly articulate. They appreciated Patches being fine, at the very least, and gave the two of them an acknowledging nod. Their arms suddenly began to tremble. Strength leaked out of them as Sticks's spark began to flutter strangely. With as much control as they could muster, they leveraged themself to the floor and sat down with a final  _ clunk, _ leaning against the leg of the berth, optics closed. They frowned a little deeper and waited a few moments for their spark to settle down again, taking deep breaths as Forceps had instructed. Too much time spent upright, it seemed. They sighed at last and pinched their nasal ridge with two fingers, they really didn't want to visit their friends in a wheelchair but if  _ that _ was what they had to look forward to, they weren't so psyched about walking anymore either. They breathed out a quiet "fuck."   
_.:Forceps, I'm alright. Can you tell them they jinxed it for me:. _

 

"Oh- goodness. All right," Notepad hummed, retreating slightly into their chair and clutching the blanket closer to their chassis for a moment, then relaxed and made a soft, soothing humming noise. "I'll keep that in mind. You know- you can get a medic to disable your comm unit entirely, if you want. I'd also suggest you get an analogue comm, one not hooked into your frame, so people can call you. Communication is important, dearie!"

Red moved slowly and carefully, feeling things out, waiting for it to be prompted, until they were settled into place against Salvo's chassis. A soft, deep vent, and they visibly relaxed, purring quietly in the back of their throat. Salvo's nervousness gave them a moment of pause, though, and they cocked their helm slightly against his chassis, giving the quietest hum possible. "I won't hurt you," they whispered, they, again, louder, clinging to Salvo's frame rather tightly. "I won't hurt you, I'm not going to hurt you, I won't, I don't  _ do that _ , I won't, and  _ no one can make me _ , I won't, I  _ won't _ hurt you," they whispered, shakily, clutching tight to Salvo's frame. "He can't make me, I won't, I won't, he can't  _ make me _ , I  _ won't _ -"

"Oh, oh no, we've found a new trigger," Notepad sighed, leaning forward slightly, watching Red tremble against Salvo's frame. "Poor dearie. Although, you are right, Red- he can't make you. Remember, dearie, he's quite dead. He can't hurt you, or anyone else, any more. He can't do anything to you. It's all right, dearie. Salvo, just... keep doing what you are, they'll relax eventually," they sighed, shaking their helm slightly, purring a bit louder so the sound would carry to the shaking medic huddled against Salvo's chassis.

"Won't, won't, won't, I  _ won't _ ," Red whispered, shuddering all over, winglets up and clacking together, and burrowed further under the blankets and against Salvo. "Can't. Can't make me. Won't do it. Won't. I... I won't," they squeaked, their voice getting ever shakier and softer, then went silent and just clung to Salvo's frame. Their shuddering stayed a little while longer, then they glanced up at his face, as well as they could. "I promise. I won't. Won't, Salvo."    
Then, even quieter, "thank you."

.

All three medics present immediately scanned Sticks, which didn't do any of them any good (and bombarded Sticks with tingliness in the bargain) as their signals got crossed, then Forceps made a quick shooing motion with both servos and repeated their own scan. Nothing too worrying showed, so Forceps relaxed, made a slight face, and straightened up enough to sign to the other two medics.  _ "You've jinxed them. Dicks." _ they declared, albeit with a quick gesture meant to indicate another's words, and added  _ "stay there!" _ down at Sticks. Sawlets up, they marched off across the medbay to one of the closets, retrieving a wheelchair, and marched right over to glare down at Sticks.  _ "Chair, or berth. No walking for you. We've just done something strange and fairly unnatural to your spark, your frame needs some time to adjust. Behave!" _

  
  


Salvo sighed and held Red close. That was... evocative. 'He' huh. Probably something to do with their imprisonment. Something about hurting people too, poor mech, didn't look like they could do much damage anymore. Probably for good reason. Not that he felt telling them would help, "I know, Red. Believe it or not, you're safe. We're all pretty safe here, I think that's the point," Salvo paused and coughed a bit, speaking even quieter, "I wouldn't let that happen anyway. I'll... I'll keep you safe," it sounded like an offer, a hesitant question, but he meant it, he laughed a bit "Whether you like it or not you've been signed up for the full Salvo package, that means optics, audials, and gun, if you need it." And he supposed, any other part of himself.

There was something about the vulnerability he'd seen. Sticks, starved, mute, trembling, Draft bleeding out, blasted into a few different pieces, Bowline, half her arm gone, energon spattered everywhere. It was in those moments they trusted him to watch over them, it was in those moments he felt right. Trust was a heavy burden, but one that he was built to shoulder. It was those few times when it took very little push for his entire frame to be in agreement. He supposed this was no different. Mystery solved then. Having at last figured that out, he donned a contented smile and relaxed the rest of the way. He began to hum.    
The song had been on his mind lately, not that the lyrics particularly meant much to him, hymns were much more useful for their harmonies than for anything else. This one had a particularly beautiful cadence at the end of each verse that he couldn't quite shake. Gradually the song took over and his voice grew stronger, more melodic, clear and deep as the sky when the moon was new. As he finished the first verse he paused to take a breath and concentrated, noiselessly tuning his second vocalizer before starting the second verse. He'd learned the song long ago, practiced the complex, intertwining, dance of melody and harmony so much so it came almost as second nature. This...  _ this _ he could do.   
.

Sticks narrowed their optics at Forceps from the floor. Fully realizing how they must've looked. Fine.  _.:Don't look too self-satisfied, now you've gotta wheel me around everywhere:. _ Hm. Figures their first genuine feeling to come back to them would be spite. They were tired, but they'd be damned if they missed their friends. Carefully, very shakily, they stood up, using the berth's leg for support, then grabbed the wheelchair's arm and flopped down, as controlled as they could be, which still jostled their frame in a way that seemed to upset their spark. They were still, optics closed for a few kliks until things seemed to settle down, then relaxed, leaning back in the chair with a still-quiet but more emphatic "fuck."    
On the way to the room where Draft and Bowline waited, they tried to make themself look casual, comfortable, and definitely not tired beyond most speech, which was mostly managed by crossing their legs and leaning back a bit. Bowline sat up from her spot on the floor as the door slid open. Her optic brightened considerably at the sight of Sticks. Draft, meanwhile, had fallen asleep on the berth and didn't even stir when they entered.    
Bowline snuck a look a Draft and, finding him completely out, propped herself up onto her elbow, "How do you feel Sticks?"   
"Bad and good" Sticks said, demonstrating the brokenness of their voice before switching to comms.   
The two had a quick, silent conversation. Bowline turned her helm to Forceps to stare, and cocked it slightly. There were the hints of a smile on Sticks's face. It was a few more kliks before she addressed Forceps directly  _.:I would like to hear from you, how did it go:. _

  
  


"Audials still work," Red declared into Salvo's chassis, winglets quivering slightly, and slowly relaxed again. They could hear Salvo's spark, thrumming stable and healthy in its chamber, and that was... infinitely soothing. Purring deep in their throat, they started to knead their servos against Salvo's flanks, slow and gentle, as the rest of the world sank away. Healthy, relatively content EM field wrapped around them, spark thrumming, energy and energon alike running through their lines in all the proper ways... perfect.    
And then Salvo began to sing, and Red's field unfurled, soft  _ surprise/pleasure/comfort/companionship/adoration _ threading out around Salvo's frame. Lifting their helm slightly, they turned their face up to Salvo, listening, then in-vented deeply and began to accompany him. Very softly, not sure if it was okay or if they would interrupt, but this song- they knew this song! His voice was fascinating, they would have to figure that out later, but right now all they wanted to do was join. In a song, that melodic undernote lifted itself into an overnote, the ringing sound of a lightweight bell, and the tension-lines around their face melted away.

Notepad straightened up, fascinated, and stayed perfectly silent -but looking transfixed- for the whole song. When it finished, they clapped lightly, clearly not kidding in the  _ slightest _ , and leaned in slightly to get closer to the two. "That was lovely! Oh,  _ there _ you are, dearie. I knew you could sing," they crooned, attention on Red, then turned their optics to Salvo. "There you go- you've earned their trust faster than I would have thought possible, and you've gotten them to sing! I haven't heard them sing. And you, Salvo, that is  _ lovely _ ! Now- does this still count as a duet, given your unique vocal structure?"

Red's winglets flickered, something like embarrassment went through their field, and they ducked their helm again, but they were still smiling the tiniest bit as they hid again. Oh... they hadn't sung, not  _ really _ sung, not for anything other than their efforts at self-soothing, which didn't count as  _ singing _ any more, in... far too long. It was nice.   
.   
As soon as Sticks was headed away, Patches gathered Scalpel up again, burrowing his face into her chassis with a muffled "not done snuggling".    
Forceps sighed heavily, optics dimmed slightly, and lightly patted Sticks' shoulder.  _.:Physically, as well as could be expected. They did, however, react rather badly to the sensation. Truthfully, they panicked. I had to... hold them for awhile. The chair is to keep them from falling over as their frame adjusts to the new level of energy, but please do not take it as a sign that anything is wrong. All they need now is time to heal. Possibly another transplant, but... I do hope not. Now- are you still feeling all right?:. _

 

Salvo's optics brightened considerably when Red joined in but he kept going, his smile growing ever wider until the end. When they finished, he looked at them through thrilled laughter and firmly pat them on the shoulders, "Oh Red,  _ you can sing! _ You know how long it's been since I've been able to sing  _ with _ someone? Ha-" he grasped their shoulders with an excess of enthusiasm, "and you can carry a tune too! None of the Choir can keep in tune when I try to harmonize and that's-well it's fine and all but- you an me? We can really make something beautiful together." There was a new light in his smile, a genuine sincerity in his voice. Hope.    
Salvo turned to Notepad, a look of genuine, almost disbelieving glee on his face, "You bet that's a duet! I may have two voices but there's nothing quite like two minds put to one song. One can only do so much." He eased his grip on Red's shoulders and settled with petting them instead, "What do you think of another song? Your choice of course. Just one condition-" Salvo sat up straight on the couch, a servo on Red's back to make sure neither they nor the blanket fell off. He straightened his posture and looked down again at Red, voice soft, "gotta give it your all. Really  _ sing, _ you know? Project." Salvo's visor dimmed a little bit, sweetly, "course if you're not feeling up to it that's fine. Another time. We've got plenty of it now. I know a few really fun songs I can teach you if you don't know em already. Hymns are pretty and all but so... stuffy, not meant for fun."   
.

Bowline nodded once and sighed, pushing herself into a cross-legged seat,  _.:I am tired, however it does not particularly concern me as I had no plans for today. Draft, it is worth noting, appears to not much like medical situations. I suspect Salvo has arrived here, as he is as predictable as time itself, and believe Draft will want to see him when he wakes up. I do hope this oversight has not broken any doors this time around. However, right now I want to thank you, Forceps:. _ Her optic towered over them even when sitting, but it glowed warmly in a way she only rarely showed  _.:Perhaps in time you will realize how proud you should be. You have managed, by your own merit, to get Sticks to tell you on their own about what I suspect is their absolute lowest moment and in doing so have undoubtedly saved their life. What's more it seems you have convinced them to care about their own wellbeing. You've given them hope, Forceps, more than I ever could:. _   
"And for that you have my deepest gratitude," Bowline said aloud and slowly bowed her helm.

  
  


This time, Red didn't jump or even flinch at being grabbed. They were too focused on Salvo's delight. They genuinely couldn't remember the last time someone had been this  _ happy _ about something they'd done. The oth- the medics, and Notepad (not quite a medic, medic-adjacent), had offered some rather nice responses to things Red had done. But this? Salvo was practically glowing, they could about  _ hear _ his smile, and there was something still beautifully relaxed in their face as they looked up at him. "Oh. I'd... 'd love to. I can go louder! Just... didn't know if you'd... mind. Didn't want to interrupt. If you want, I will... happily attempt... any song I know, though I can't promise anything at higher volumes. I am out of practice."    
After a moment, they placed a servo lightly on his upper chassis, a reasonable distance below his throat, voice still soft but not quite cautious. "That's... something unique. May I feel, for a few lines, your... vocalizer structure? I am curious," they explained, petting softly at the area under their palm, not wanting to simply grab at someone's throat. "If you prefer not... I do understand."

Their field had bloomed something undefinable but absolutely thrilled at the praise, and it lingered, soft, gentle, and swirling, as they cuddled against Salvo. Their upper face was a bit stiff, but the look of something like adoration was clear, and they still clung tight to Salvo's frame with the servo not hopefully located just under his throat. It was cute! Aside from one detail.    
On a very close inspection, there were a few tiny pinholes along the edges of where Red's optics should have been, hidden skillfully up next to the scars so they wouldn't just have holes in their face. Which explained a detail only visible from up close like this; the vertical soot marks below those tiny marks. The soot was faint, mostly rubbed away, but still visible, an odd purplish tinge that only came from burning optical lubricant heavily tainted with emotion chemicals. Evidently they'd been crying a lot, and it was clearly visible up close.

"Ohh, dearie, that is the sweetest expression," Notepad cooed quietly, then snuggled down into the chair, pulled the blanket up to their chin, and offered the two a quiet, earnest, fairly eager look. "Don't mind me! I'll just be right over here."

.

_.:Noted. When Draft wakes up, we can move him to another room. It's a bit like the rec room, but smaller. Definitively not medical. Salvo has not broken down any doors- as far as I am aware he is behaving. And...:._  
Forceps didn't know how to respond to that. Helm cocked slightly and sawlets lifted in the slightest hint of a challenge, they considered for a little while, then sighed heavily and leaned on the back of the chair. _.:It started out as me doing my job, but is... not that, not so much, any more. And I suspect the hope is less thanks to me and more thanks to the opportunity to do something hopeful:._   
Another moment, then they stepped over to Draft, standing a reasonable distance away to inspect him. "I would ordinarily ask if you could carry him without waking him, but... I am reluctant to ask you to carry anything, let alone someone relatively fragile. I am definitely incapable of catching you if you stumble, let alone catching you and a passenger. However, this room is hardly cheerful, and I suspect the both of you would prefer Patches', ah, 'soft room' to here. There are movies. Labeled with an overview of their contents so that you can avoid topics that you may find upsetting. Mostly they are cheerful, but action movies do tend to have some degree of, well. Action. And movies imported from organic planets tend to feature a considerable amount of destruction of their local, non-sentient vehicles. An entirely different connotation here than elsewhere."

"Heh wanna find out my secret huh?" Salvo said playfully, "go ahead. The way I understand it is that I somehow got two vocalizers -some kinda production glitch at the soldier factory maybe? Just- be gentle, right? S'my favorite part of myself." Salvo cupped Red's elbow and slowly pushed their servo to where he could feel their fingers over his vocalizer, "It's a bit of a natural thing for me so I don't quite know how it works. Maybe you'd be able to figure it out though? But right," as he was speaking the area vibrated with different tones, some notes more resonant than others. After a few kliks of silence there was a tiny buzz, as if it came from an almost silent tone, "Now it's on, doesn't sound any different though cause it's synched to my main one, but once I concentrate," he held a single note with his first voice and the second slid in an easy scale behind it, there seemed to be another smaller vibration coming from behind his main voicebox as he did so.    
"Gets a bit scary when I forget to turn it off," Salvo said, his voice in two tones, one an octave lower, another light buzz and he was back to normal, "So I only let it out when I can really concentrate on making it good. Or, yanno when I wanna intimidate people. Though sometimes it just... comes out, sorry Notepad." He turned to Notepad and gave them a sheepish look, "and now as requested, a demonstration!" With a flourish of his servos, no doubt missed by the blind bot, he began the hymn again, this time truly singing with the lyrics, save for replacing every instance of 'Primus' with 'high-grade.'

Knowing that Red would be distracted, Salvo took the chance to get a better look at their face as he sang. Something seemed to pull slightly in his chassis at the sight of the scorch marks, all too familiar but it  _ had _ been a while since he'd seen them. His second vocalizer stalled for a bit but he shook his helm and quickly recovered. Red'd had a  _ very _ bad time of it then. No matter, he'd brought Sticks back to functioning, he'd do the same for Red. Though, he thought as he finished the first verse, step one would be to fix the mech up. He was quiet as he brought a servo up to Red's jaw, tilting their helm so he could see their broken audial. He'd put them on blast if he knew they wouldn't panic like they would around their optics. A judgmental stare, hopefully felt, would likely provoke  _ something. _

  
  


.   
"I am afraid I cannot lift Draft even when I am at my best. The mech is heavy." Bowline said, "I believe the best course of action is to wake him up. I have faith he will not react too poorly granted he will likely be drowsy." She stood up, gripping the berth for support, and suddenly leaned over, "One... moment." Sticks sat forward in the chair, servo on the armrest, optics wide and worried. After a few moments Bowline straightened up, "It has passed." She turned first to Forceps and then rested her gaze on Sticks, "Vertigo is a bitch," turning back to Forceps, "Allow me to wake him, he will do better with a familiar face."   
Bowline bent over and gently shook Draft's forearm. He jolted awake, frame tense, optics wide for a moment before he relaxed, an expression of vague disappointment on his face. "I know mine is not the face you would like to wake up to but Sticks is here and Salvo is somewhere around. We were planning on moving to a more palatable location until both of us are feeling better. How does that sound?"   
Draft looked around, optics searching until Bowline moved away to reveal Sticks, who gave a weak wave from their wheelchair. Draft's expression eased a bit into something closer resembling a smile. He gestured tiredly towards them, "Wheelchair."   
"Yep," Sticks replied.    
Draft winced upon hearing their voice and turned to look at Bowline, "I'd like to see Salvo."   
"Naturally." Bowline said,  then turned to Forceps, "These berths move, correct?"

 

"Saw a lot of patients from the more hurried factories with one abnormality or another. Only major deficits were altered or culled, so... wrong number of digits, slight misformation of one organ or another, an organ in  _ backwards _ , nanite issues. A range from... potential long-term issues in a bot not meant to  _ live _ in the long term, to harmless changes, to... things like this with a potential benefit," Red mused, and went silent to listen, focused intently on the vibrations. Vocal cords thrummed when someone spoke, and  _ especially _ when they sang, and Salvo's throat felt- well, about how one would expect for someone with two vocalizers. An interesting two-toned vibration set.    
They were expecting Salvo's next move to be suggesting a song for another duet. They had  _ not _ been expecting him to. Well. Theoretically he could have been looking at something other than their audial, but... that was the most likely thing, wasn't it? Cringing slightly in something between concern and shame, they diverted their nonexistent gaze away from him, fully aware of how silly they were about to sound. At least, in their opinion. "Was having a nightmare. There was a lot of screaming. Woke up like this. Didn't mean to, just... couldn't keep hearing it. Can't sleep. Didn't help any- all in my mind," they explained, very softly, turning as much of themself as they could away from Salvo. Well. Without pulling away from him or breaking contact. Silly as "I had such a bad dream that I mutilated myself trying to stop experiencing it" was, much as it made them want to hide away, they didn't want to stop touching him. They just tried their best to retreat under the blankets and out of sight.

"Salvo, dearie... you aren't too squeamish around surgery, are you?" Notepad inquired, helm cocked slightly, looking the pair over. "Perhaps you could hold them, something like this, so someone can repair their audial? At least get it matching the other a bit more nicely so it won't ache. They'll need to be fairly heavily sedated for that, and, understandably, that makes them very nervous. But, with someone trustworthy nearby... what do you think, Red, would that be all right? Salvo does look quite worthy of a fight, I'm sure he could defend you from something worrying. It's not urgent, I don't believe, but... worth a try, do you suppose, dearies?"   
As they talked, they were typing quickly on a data-pad in rather large letters, and held it up for Salvo to read as they finished.  **Perhaps you should get their face cleaned up some. I'm not sure they're aware of the soot. The optics alone carry their primary issue- they don't seem to have any such issues about repairing anywhere else.**

 

"They do. You will have to push this for yourself, I am occupied and somewhat lacking in brawn," Forceps commented, ducking to unfasten the locks on the berth wheels, and moved back to Sticks' chair. A moment's observation, and they deemed there to only be a low risk of injury- at worst, someone would fall over on someone else. Not great, but workable. "Be aware of your limits. Sit if you need to, we're in no rush."    
Out in the medbay, they paused and signed "still?" at Scalpel (who still had Patches hugging her), got a very expressive shrug in return, and rolled their optics slightly before continuing. Ah, Patches. How he'd survived the war without at least one breakdown was still something of a mystery. Maybe there  _ had _ been a breakdown and he hadn't told anyone. Maybe it was impending.    
Not currently relevant.    
Forceps opened the door to the side room, paused, glanced back at his three assorted passengers, and quickly commed  _.:don't ask about the optics or suggest they get anything to do with restoring their sight, they WILL panic, and do not use the words 'oath' or, especially, 'mercy':. _ before pushing Sticks inside. This was fine- they could work with Red in here. Just had to avoid anything especially startling. Hm- them hugging Salvo was new and somewhat positive, though. That could be very useful.

 

Salvo nodded at Notepad, "I could do that, no problem. Whenever you feel up to it Red, let me know. I will say," he caught Red's face and pulled it up where he could see with one servo to and with his other searched for a bit of blanket to start wiping away the scorch marks, "you, friend, are looking  _ rough. _ Nothing a little tlc won't fix, though. Figure we fix up your audial so it's not-" he winced, "quite so painful to look at -bet it's sensitive too, damn. Then a new coat of paint, could get any colors ya want. Then hm-" Salvo turned their face to get the other side, having buffed off most of the ash on the other, "Mask maybe? Something in case you don't want people asking about your face situation, which I assume is probably what you want. Or maybe -what do you think about a visor? We could match! Toxic green really could go nicely with your paint."   
Salvo sat up quickly as the door opened and turned around in time to see Forceps wheeling Sticks in. "Sticks! Y-" Salvo's smile dimmed slightly, "you're in a wheelchair-are you..? Alr-" he was stopped by Bowline, delayed slightly to quietly relay what Forceps had told them to the stubbornly comm-less Draft, as she wheeled the mech in. Salvo's face fell entirely as pure dread flushed his system, he spoke very quietly, uncertainly to Red, "S-sorry Red I gotta-" Carefully detaching the bot from his frame he vaulted over the side of the couch, running towards the berth as Bowline wheeled it through the door.

 

"He is fine Salvo, just tired," Bowline said as Salvo skidded to a halt in front of Draft, "I would have told you in advance had you allowed me to comm you."   
Draft's face softened considerably as Salvo leaned over him, catching his servo and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let out a deep sigh and felt his frame relax at last, "I'm alright, love. Should have brought you with me, I think. Though Sticks had a much worse time of it."   
"Sort yourselves out, if you would, I need a break," Bowline said, letting go of the berth. She spotted both Notepad and Red, two brand new faces, and made her way over to sit, back up against the padded wall, a friendly distance from both.    
Salvo moved from Draft to Sticks, giving Forceps his best friendly smile as he knelt down -he know the mech didn't like him too much but that didn't matter right now, "Are you alright Sticks?" he asked softly.   
"Frame and spark don't wanna work together," Sticks said, gently tapping the chair's arm.   
Salvo took a sharp in-vent when he heard Sticks's wrecked voice. Sticks looked away. They were both remembering the same cracked, ragged, 'thanks' all those years ago, the first thing Sticks had uttered after being found. Salvo, very carefully, threaded his arms around Sticks's small frame, enveloping them in a giant hug. Sticks too, wrapped their arms around Salvo's helm.

"Looks like the operation failed then," Salvo said, Sticks turned their head slightly, confused.    
"The ugly operation, you didn't get any less ugly," Salvo continued.   
Sticks let out a single, tired laugh, "Oh no..."   
Salvo pulled away a bit, put off by the words.   
"That means you've caught it now too," Sticks finished, patting his face a little.   
Salvo laughed and stood up, "You're gonna be alright buddy. Now um-" He turned and jogged over to the couch again, slowing down when he got close to Red's personal space and snapping to make sure he was heard. He leaned closer to them and spoke quietly, putting a servo on their shoulder,"A bunch of my friends just came in, I think you should meet them. They're good people and I think they're gonna like you."

 

Red sneezed lightly, reflexively, at having their face scrubbed, but made no effort to squirm away, though their field retreated in embarrassment. They must not have gotten all the soot off. They'd tried! But it was hard to find tiny traces of soot when their surface layer was already a bit rough from their nanites being so stressed. From all of them being so stressed. Oh, this- this was remarkably caring of Salvo, cleaning their face like this. The suggestions, well, that was- they hadn't really thought about that, actually, but a visor might be good. Something dark and blatantly not of any use, they wanted it to be  _ clear _ that they couldn't  _ see _ , so-    
-o-oh. The room was suddenly full of people, and Salvo's field did something horribly ominous. Spine straightening in alarm, Red tensed up completely, listening hard, and didn't dare move when they were set down. Helm cocked slightly to aim their good audial at the room, they tracked Salvo for a moment, then Bowline, concerned by the sounds of a notably large bot. Salvo was- Salvo was somewhere over by the noises of other bots, talking, and sounded less- oh, wait, he was coming back, and Red leaned rather desperately into Salvo's frame. Salvo was an anchor of stability, was reassurance that it was  _ safe _ here, was-

Was trying to get them to meet new people. They hadn't particularly wanted to meet people. But... there were people. And they wanted to know about those people. Also... Salvo. Salvo wanted them to meet people. Red stared in the direction of the noises, then towards- oh, a shift.   
  
Forceps retreated slightly from the onrush of Salvo-ness, then, making a sight face at him, pushed the chair over to where Sticks could easily get onto the couch. "On the couch," they ordered firmly, and wiggled their fingertips slightly before beginning to sign where Sticks could see. _"That is Red. Introduce yourself. Don't expect a servo shake, they have delicate servos. Medic. Formerly. Thoroughly traumatized. Be gentle. Obviously, completely blind, not used to it yet."_   
  
Notepad raised their winglets, a bit crookedly, and watched the whole environment with an air of vague concern until everyone settled. They knew who everyone was, by faces at least- they got a picture and name of everyone new on the ship. Draft, Bowline- clearly the donors in this context. Tired, understandably so, but to their optics fairly healthy. Forceps, at least, didn't seem worried, or even fixated on them at all. That meant they were of no major concern. Sticks, dizzy but looking stable enough, being paid some level of attention but no visible concern. Salvo, well, Salvo was clearly fine. Red, concerned, but not too bad. So, curious, Notepad turned to look up at Bowline, winglets pricking further in a greeting. "Hello! I don't believe we've met. I'm Notepad, the ship's therapist. This over here is Red. They're a bit shy, I'm afraid. Red- it's all right, you're quite safe in here," they trilled, writing again, and held up the 'pad for Salvo. **It would probably help them if you told them who is where. General size of frames, current actions, who they are to you. They're still learning to work with their lack of sight.**

  
  


Salvo turned to watch Sticks get on the couch and caught Notepad's note, "How could I  _ not _ introduce em to the crew?" an idea sprung up in his mind. He patted Red's shoulder and leaned back a bit, "One moment Red."   
Jogging over to Draft's berth, Salvo laboriously pushed it so that it was within reasonable reach of the couch. Carefully he coaxed the mech up to sitting, "couch is better than berth. You can lean on me, you'll be fine."   
Draft, now getting a better view of Red, looked a bit confused but slowly pushed himself up out of the berth, Salvo bracing him against the ground. A few half hops and he flopped down on the couch next to Red. Salvo, now satisfied he could address everyone at once, crawled over the top of the couch, having left himself a spot between Sticks and Red, made to sit, then stood up and cleared his throat, "Draft, Sticks, Bowline, this is Red. You can see them but they can't see you. They... really need some friends right about now. Starting from today they're part of the Choir.  _ And let it be known... _ Salvo looked back and forth amongst the assorted bots, "they can sing better than any one of you so you're all on probation."   
This aggressively enthusiastic statement was met with some assorted tired laughs as Salvo sat down again, an arm around Red. Seeing Salvo lean in Draft's direction first, Sticks turned to Forceps  _.:Say what you want about Salvo, he knows how to make a mech feel welcome:. _ They could feel the pall beginning to lift from their shoulders. They were still tired, their frame felt it was strung at different tensions, and their spark seemed to have its own agenda, but there was warmth here, there was relief here.

"Ah, the therapist," Bowline said, turning her frame slightly to face Notepad more, "I am Bowline, not a therapist. I have a feeling Salvo has his own plans for Red, though they are all good I assure you. Things must be taken in turns." She leaned in a little closer and spoke quieter, "Truthfully I would recommend Salvo to make use of your services, however it seems his problem has been currently solved to some degree."   
  
Salvo leaned over to Draft, guiding Red's servo to his arm, "This is Draft. He looks big, blue, and scary but he's a good mech. Points of interest to you may be servos and..." Salvo looked at Draft with a devious expression, "and face. Got these giant eyebrows. He's my..."   
"Partner?" Draft supplied   
"I guess, yeah. Partner's a strong word. Platonic partner?"    
Draft shrugged   
"Best friend," Salvo grinned. Draft smiled slightly and nodded.   
"We share a room, which you can visit any time." Salvo said and leaned a lil closer, voice gentler, "especially if you get nightmares. Believe it or not you wouldn't be the first. Oh hmm-" he paused, "might be hard gettin there huh, I dunno if you want your own room, could move in next to us or we could move close to where you are. Set up some kinda rope system or something. We'll figure it out. I know I don't mind another roommmate, how about you Draft?"   
Draft turned his head back to look at Red, "Can't be worse than Salvo, leaving garbage everywhere."   
Salvo laughed, "Slander! I forgot to clean up  _ once _ "   
Draft chuckled and held out a servo for Red, a greeting.   
"One thing Red, he's not all that much of a cuddler so don't get worried if he pushes you back, mech likes his space." Salvo said, keeping a close watch on Red to make sure they weren't overwhelmed.

  
  


Salvo being up close again? Good. Being inducted into... something unknown? Potentially bad. Red's squeak of "into the  _ what _ " wasn't really audible, and they gathered up the blanket again, rather apprehensively trying to figure out what was happening. When Salvo touched them again, they jumped slightly, then burrowed into his side and clung tight. "Salvo, I-I don't-" they began, then stopped again, not wanting to interrupt, and stayed silent. Trembling the slightest bit, they listened to Salvo until he finished, then, finally, leaned out the slightest bit from Salvo's frame. An attempt at getting closer to Draft. They couldn't bring themself to  _ let go _ of Salvo, but, not wanting to disappoint, they climbed into his lap and leaned slightly further out to Draft, helm cocked to listen. A deep vent, and they spoke, ever-so-softly. "Draft. Hello. I-I apologize for my... apprehension, it is- is nothing to do with you. Only, I- Salvo,  _ what _ is- w-what-"

Looking thoroughly confused, they tucked back and very carefully hid their arm under their blankets, concealing the still-visible carve marks. Bad impression. If they  _ had _ to meet people, they were going to- they had to try to- oh, who were they kidding, they couldn't look respectable, they were huddled into Salvo's lap and just about quivering. May as well get the staring and the questions over with, right? Make sure there were no accidental secrets that could cause upset later.    
  
"Oh, dearie, to be perfectly honest, just about everyone on this ship could use my services. Just about every Cybertronian alive could! MTOs in particular, goodness," Notepad sighed, shaking their helm slightly. "MTO soldiers were never meant to survive beyond the war, and then the war dragged on far longer than anyone anticipated, and now... nobody knows what to do with themselves, least of all- well, you know, I'm sure. You've probably noticed. He's much more  _ caring _ than I would have expected, though, I am  _ very _ pleasantly surprised. Even if he does seem to be rather baffling poor Red," they chuckled, glancing back over to be sure everything was fine. "I'd almost suggest he try to adopt at some point, depending on how things work out. He might be good with children. From... what I've read. I didn't ever work with children. Now, ah- would you mind if I come over there? I've never been one to sit on my own when there are people around and I have options. Normally I would  _ be _ one of the seats," they commented, lifting their winglets to show off the padding, "but I'm not inclined to transform. I'd like to sit over there near you if you have no objections."

  
  


Red vented deeply for a few moments, gathering their nerve, then carefully untangled themself from Salvo and the blankets and stood up. Stilling their trembling long enough to speak clearly, they turned their helm as if looking around the room, their voice soft but reasonably audible. "Hello. My name is- ah. I no longer use my old name. The people on this ship have taken to calling me Red. I... like it. So. My name is Red. And... this is me," they managed, taking a careful step forward, and gestured slightly to their entire frame. Mottled pinkish-red patterns that suggested extremely stressed nanites, old scars and marks in general "this person has been roughly handled" patterns, none of them healed thoroughly. The areas of soft material on their frame were slightly sunken in, hinting at long-term hunger, and the phrase was still carved into their arm. Filled in, but visible.

And then there were the optics, the clawed-out optics. And, perhaps more telling, the medics' insignias that they had ripped off their frame. Someone might be inclined to blind themself for... several reasons, all unpleasant, some worse than others. For a medic to so thoroughly renounce their profession? Something had happened. They knew this was clear, and they knew people would talk, and they wanted to get the revelations over with. See who still wanted to interact with them after, rather than having someone start to like them and then push them away in disgust. Better to have someone choose not to get any closer to them.   
So, helm cocked slightly to speak in Salvo's general direction, they continued. "I was a medic. I am not capable of being one any more. I do not intend to ever be capable again. Because I" a deep, shuddering breath, servos curling, "was kept on a... torture vessel, by a...  _ being _ who wanted his captives to last longer. I was forced, by... artificially enhanced medic's coding, to... repair his victims. As many times as he wanted. With full knowledge that he was going to take them apart again as soon as he could do so without killing them. Frequently as they begged me to let them die. M-my"

A shaky vent, then a shakier one, and their voice shook harder as they continued. "My blindness is self-inflicted. The only thing I could do to ensure that- that I could not be- be forced to keep bots alive like  _ that _ for any longer. So. I. Tore out my own optics. I will- I will  _ not _ replace them. You will not change my mind on that. I am- I have nightmares so bad that I have not been able to sleep in a long time without being sedated. I also... am only alive because my survival instincts keep me that way. I" a pause, turning to show their audial "attempted to rip my own audials off, my first night here, trying to make the screaming in my nightmares stop. I am... essentially useless, massively traumatized, and none of that is likely to change. I cannot guarantee that I will not become dangerously suicidal in the near future. That- that being said, if you-"    
Much, much shakier, they turned back to Salvo, trying to venture towards his lap but not  _ daring _ to touch without permission. "-that is me. If you want... any of that, I will give you... anything of myself that I have to give. If you do  _ not _ want any part of me, I-I will- I understand."    
  
Notepad stayed completely silent for a little while, stunned but not having heard anything new. "...Red, ah, honesty is important but  _ this may be a bit much _ , dearie."

  
  


The Choir members quieted down when Red stood up, everyone turning to watch them. When they began to tremble everyone leaned forward, optics locked on the bot. As they inched toward Salvo, the gaze shifted until all optics were on him. Everyone had something to say, but now was not their time, not their place. They trusted their leader to say it all. Salvo, meanwhile, barely noticed the attention, drawn so completely into Red's address. He was silent for a few kliks, turning his head slightly at Notepad's comment but not looking entirely away. When at last he spoke his voice was quiet, exceedingly tender, "Come here Red." He sat up and reached his arms out, gently brushing the sides of their servos with his fingers before slowly pulling them down back into his lap by their forearms and wrapping them in a warm hug. For a while he simply sat, holding them, trying to calm them down as he did -enough to gather his thoughts.

"I'll ask from you everything. I want your frame healed as much as it will. I want your mind at some kind of equilibrium, so that the good matches the bad, so that you have defenses against its darkest corners. I want your soul, as raw and fading as it seems right now. I want it to know peace, I want it to know joy, and contentment and love. I'll ask from you  _ everything _ and nothing at once." Salvo's voice broke slightly but he continued, "Everyone here has been to dark places, deeply  _ hopeless _ places. Not one is the same, no, but we've all come to the same conclusion: it is through our bonds that we survive, that we live to the next day. It is solely through our compassion and love we have for each other that we've kept going. It's been that way for thousands of years and it will continue to be that way into forever. You are not alone, Red. You won't be alone, not anymore. You've got me, and the rest of the Choir, and hell, this whole ship. And I swear to you, Red, whether it takes 10 years or 10 million years I will see you standing confidently, proud to be yourself, whoever you choose to become, secure, healthy, and safe at last."   
Salvo paused and took a shaking breath. He drew Red in further and stroked the top of their helm, "You have been through an absolute nightmare, Red. It's no wonder you're reacting as you are. It takes a lot of courage to talk about the things that hurt you most, especially in front of strangers. But you did it and I'm proud of you. You're a very brave bot Red, I hope you know that."

 

Red shook harder at the first touches, terrified that they were about to be pushed away, then went limp in relief when Salvo pulled them in. Pushing their face into his collar assembly, they  _ sobbed _ in relief, shaking all over, and wound their arms tight around his frame. Salvo. Whatever the others thought, they still had Salvo, and Salvo was trying to help them. They had  _ Salvo _ .    
They were crying again, hard, optics sparking, but there was no flame. That wasn't sorrow or fear. That was relief, and it was shaking through their whole field, sheer relief- sheer  _ delight _ \- at being accepted. Salvo still wanted to help. Salvo still wanted them. Climbing into Salvo's lap and pressing up close, they curled into his frame, under the blankets again, then shivered, whimpered, and-    
  
"What-  _ again _ -" Notepad squeaked, covering their glasses with both servos at a glimpse of sparklight. " _ Red _ -"    
  
Red was vaguely aware of their own desperation, but it was drowning in a wave of  _ hope _ , and they lifted their helm away slightly from Salvo's frame as they cracked their chassis open. Not completely, but enough to bare part of the transparent covering of their chamber, to offer up their spark. Evidently they were taking "I want your soul" somewhat literally. Or it might have been symbolic. They didn't know, didn't care, too focused on steadying their voice enough to speak. "Anything. Salvo-  _ anything _ ," they whispered, quivering, something incoherent but hopelessly relieved thrumming through their field. "I'm- I'll-  _ anything _ , anything I can do, just,  _ please _ -"

They meant it. Anything. Absolutely anything they could do to keep Salvo's conviction.    
  
"What is it about people and being  _ naked around me _ " Notepad muttered, and peered carefully through their fingers, determining that they were not about to get an opticful. "Oh. Red. You've made an impression, it seems, Salvo. Desperation for- for positive attention is- is not uncommon in... oh. Primus. Red. Just, oh... that's...  _ goodness _ that was sweet. Well. Red, dearie, you- you have at least  _ one _ good friend, evidently, probably more. You... might want to  _ not _ be... oh. Oh, well," they sighed, and shook their helm slightly, then very carefully stood up and took a couple of cautious steps towards the two. "The, uh... the rest of you? I'm- I'm not sure how much Red is listening to the room at- at the moment, but it might be good if someone could narrate your-  _ ow _ -"    
  
Red was definitely listening on some level, because their helm shot up at the high-pitched yelp of pain, but they relaxed a bit at Notepad's little "I'm okay" and turned back to Salvo. Still crying. Still relieved. With the sudden realization that they were probably presenting their spark chamber, or some part of it, to Salvo. Whoops. Servos shivering a bit, they clicked their fingertips lightly together, glancing away, then turned their face down to their spark chamber and by consequence illuminated themself in its shaky, weak light. It wasn't as healthy as it ought to be- stress and hunger did that. A quiet, shaky signal that they needed help. "...oh. Too- too much? I- I  _ do _ \- I-I mean it. Anything. If- if you stay, I-  _ anything _ I can do, short- short of- I-I will  _ not _ replace my- my sight, but- anything else."    
  
Aaand nudity again. Notepad looked away, typing rapidly, then held up a 'pad with  **ask them to start with fuel and repairs to their audials?** on it. A pause, then  **comfortable with them in a shower? help them calm down** .

  
  


Salvo instinctively looked away but turned his helm back almost immediately. He didn't know what to say. The gesture was  _ incredibly _ intimate but genuine, heartfelt. He found himself swamped in a mixture of equal parts bemused and deeply deeply touched. "Aw, c'mon Red you're gonna make  _ me _ cry now," his voice shook underneath surprised, breathy laughs as he pulled Red in again, "The only thing I'll ask you to do is to live, so try your best to do so, alright?"   
Draft's optics were shining behind his servo as he blocked the sight. The speech had gotten to him but seeing another mech's sparklight was too personal for his taste. Despite his discomfort he was smiling underneath his fingers. Sticks meanwhile leaned into Forceps, evidently moved as well. They wiped the slightly-baffling tears from their optics and leaned even closer into Forceps, their smile fading slightly. They began to sign, shakily but surely,  _ something to be done about their- _ they gestured to their chassis with a quick flick of their fingers. Yesterday they likely couldn't spot the difference between a healthy spark and an unhealthy one, but now they knew intimately the distinction.  _ Not as bad as me, hopefully. Treatable? _ Once Notepad got within range, they held out a servo instinctively to help them catch their balance.

"You're probably exhausted now, Red," Salvo said, glancing at Notepad's note, "Notepad here's telling me you might want a shower about now, and honestly it sounds pretty good to me, too. What do you think? You and me? Get all clean and refreshed and you can officially meet the rest of the Choir- well those who are here. Though it's up to you. They want to meet you, right?"   
"Of course," Bowline said, leaning slightly in Red's direction.   
"Yeah," Sticks rasped from Red's periphery.   
Salvo turned to Draft, who let out an affirmative grunt from behind his servo.  Salvo pat the sides of Red's chassis, "You might not guess but that's everyone in the Choir, save for the two other members, who... don't even know all this has been going on," he chuckled, "now we're all sentimental saps here to varying degrees but I'm thinkin it's a good idea to close up about now."

 

Red glanced down again, then, blushing furiously, closed up and pressed in against Salvo's frame. "Apologies. Too much," they declared into Salvo's shoulder, somewhat embarrassed, and huffed through their vents once or twice. Oof. Okay. "Thank you," they whispered again, turning their face up towards Salvo slightly, and reached up to rub two fingertips against their face. "Shower. Shower would be good. Can't now. Not enough coordination. Slip. Would... _love_ a good shower. And..." very, very soft "before? Cleaning my face? Please. That. Can't... can't tell what I look like. Don't want the... soot. Trying to look as respectable as I can. Shower, _please_. Then, I-" a pause, glancing over towards the source of the very worrying voice, "-I would like to meet them. Yes. Please. After... something of a cleansing."   
  
Forceps purred the slightest hint of approval through their field, and signed in return, optics fixed intently on Red. Who, after all, couldn't tell if they were staring. _"Malnutrition and, in particular, stress. No physical damage. Nothing to do but correct the circumstances. Severe stress can actually be fatal, if long-term enough and without any reason to survive beyond survival instincts. The spark gutters eventually. What was done to them... nearly killed them. Could have, if it had continued. If they had not stopped it. Now- focus on yourself. They are in no danger. Vid?"_   
  
Red stood up, very carefully, still unsteady, and held onto Salvo's arm. "I... am not able to navigate well. Escort me?" they asked, soft, shy, and turned their optics slightly towards whoever Salvo had been focusing on. Draft, though they didn't know it. "You were... concerned. Who is that? Are they all right?"   
.

"My goodness," Notepad muttered, sitting down where Salvo and Red had been, and giggled slightly in mild embarrassment. "Goodness. That was... emotional," they commented, and waited until Red was out of hearing before saying anything more. "I'm glad you all like Red. They need company, affection, and someone to hopefully ward off their nightmares. They have... absolutely dreadful nightmares. I haven't heard someone scream like that in at least a century, and I hope not to hear it again. I mention this only because I believe that sleeping next to someone healthy, being aware of stable lifesigns, would keep them calmer. Or, at least, allow them to be woken before they get too upset and do further damage. They... need friends."    
  
Seeming considerably more alert, Red walked carefully right next to Salvo. They moved a bit oddly, skimming their pedes instead of lifting them, one servo out slightly in front of them- looking for barriers. They weren't used to this yet, but they wanted a shower. They  _ needed _ a shower. Patches had cleaned them up the first day they were here, and they hadn't been exposed to any dirt since, but the sensation, the relaxation- and the complete change of subject. Shower, get clean, get relaxed, then... oh, what the Pit. May as well meet Salvo's friends. Who they'd been adopted by.    
Interesting.

 

Sticks squinted at Forceps's signing, still not entirely caught up on the syntax, mirroring some phrases until they realized quite what they were saying.  _ "Vid? Something good maybe? Don't know. Do you have something in mind?" _ Sticks signed,  _ "Draft doesn't like-" _ they frowned, damn vocabulary,  _ "Exsanguination?" _ That they remembered and not the sign for 'gore,' excellent.   
"Of course they need friends," Bowline said, standing up to walk over to the other side of the couch, she leaned from the back, putting a casual elbow on its top, "It is unfortunate that people tend to overlook damaged bots as they are the ones in need of attention the most. It is fortuitous for all of us that Salvo is the way that he is, else I suspect none of us would be alive. That is how he came to be our leader."   
"You should hear what he has to say about everyone," Draft joined in, at last letting his servo drop from his face, revealing a tender smile, "It's always something positive. He's told me quite a lot about how he met everyone before I was brought in. Red in this state quite reminds me of a certain minibot whom he fished out of the rubble, which no doubt is contributing to his attachment," he looked down at Sticks, who didn't even notice the attention they were focused on signing, "It just means he's done it before, in bringing Sticks back from the brink."

Sticks, upon hearing their name, finally looked up, confused at Draft.   
"And now look at you," Draft said, gesturing to them.   
"A mess," Bowline said, affectionately tapping them on the helm with her finger.   
"Kicking me while I'm down I see," Sticks said hoarsely.   
"Are you going to deny it?" Draft rejoined.   
"If I could speak better I'd have both your afts," Sticks said, unable to hide a bit of a smile.   
"Regardless, I believe you two will have a lot to talk about, Sticks," Bowline said.    
.

Salvo talked a bit as he guided Red to the medbay showers, "That was Draft, remember big blue and eyebrows? He's a bit shy and definitely  _ did _ see some things... there. He also's feeling kinda off because he, well, he donated spark energy today." Salvo paused and tapped Red's shoulder to signal them to stop before reaching out to open the shower stall's door, "You'll find out soon enough why, I think, but I don't want to give too much away since it's a sensitive topic for those involved."

After gently pushing Red in, Salvo trotted over to the wall to turn on the water, waiting for a few moments until it was the right temperature, hot  but not scalding, then went and grabbed Red's forearm to pull them in, "Tell me if it's too hot, alright?" Salvo said, "Anyway, on top of that he came in laid out on a berth and-" he sighed and began to rub his arms under the water, "he's... really not a fan of medical situations. Doesn't tell most people cause... well, that's personal too. I still think he shoulda told more people though. Which is why I don't feel bad letting you know."   
Salvo paused again to grab soap from the wall, haphazardly squeezing the bottle over his helm and shoulders before passing it to Red, making sure they had a good hold on it, "It's important, yanno, to think about what you're telling people. Now you're in the Choir you should know, rule number one is 'don't ask.' You never know what's gonna be sensitive for someone. None of us will expect you to tell us anything you don't want to. Course, the rule is only for things that seem like they might be bad, asking someone how their day went and slag like that is no problem usually. Just- yanno, don't pry." He rubbed his helm and chassis thoroughly, gaining a lot of bubbles before stopping for a moment and reaching over to rub Red's face in between his soapy servos, making sure to get the rest of the ash residue off, "It might sound like keepin secrets but you'll find people are much more willing to talk. It's good for people to do so on their own terms. Second rule, we stick together. We pull for each other," Salvo grinned, "To the best of our abilities of course. Means we'll all be there to catch you if you fall." He brought his servos back to start working on the rest of his frame, "And I think that's it, two rules got us through... a lotta slag. Anyway now that orientation's over, what do you do for fun?"

 

"Part of the trouble is, I think, people not wanting to frighten Red and not being sure of how to approach without scaring them. Also, the lack of optics is, honestly, a bit unnerving," Notepad contributed, carefully leaning over to open a drawer and retrieve a stack of tiny datapads. "Let's see- what do we have in here now? Oof, no, not this one- horror movie. That's in here for cathartic adrenaline surges. Not appropriate right now. Let's see... a lot of these are organic films. Which are great! Except that they treat the nonsapient vehicles like scenery. Sometimes those are destroyed. Who here minds seeing inanimate objects shaped somewhat like Cybertronian alt modes be destroyed? No shame- these have warnings on them for a reason," they hummed, looking around the room for input, halfway hiding a smile at- well. This was all very sweet. Not their place to get involved in it, but oh-so-sweet.    
Forceps looked vaguely wary at all the motion around them, but didn't bristle at Bowline's approach and contact. She wasn't up to anything. Didn't want to bristle at her. Instead, they gestured slightly to the stack of movies in Notepad's servos, slowing down their signing for Sticks.  _ "Warnings on back. Stop talking. Strained your voicebox screaming. Make it worse. Sign, comm, or write." _

Red sneezed again at having their face rubbed, but leaned happily into the contact. One of the few upsides of having no optics, face cleaning was much easier. Purring the softest little noise, they rubbed their face into Salvo's servos, then rinsed their face clean under the water. That helped their impression drastically, the lack of soot on their face, as did the rinsing of the water. They didn't feel confident standing isolated on a slick floor, though, so they felt along until they found a shelf to put the soap back on, then rested both servos on Salvo's frame. "Not coordinated enough yet," they whispered, leaning slightly into his frame for support, and slid fingertips up until they found an area of soap. They couldn't see the dirt to remove it, but they could find where Salvo had put the soap. That, and they didn't need their optics to do something enjoyable.    
A moment of consideration, lightly petting at various areas, then they set to work. Firm, smooth scrubbing motions with the undersides of their fingers, keeping their delicate fingertips away from anything they might encounter accidentally. Whenever they found a seam, their fingertips dipped inside, carefully cleaning the area and lingering for a brief massage. Gentle, vaguely intimate, but not much further than they'd been already. Largely still practical, but enjoyable. "Is this... to your liking?" they asked quietly, lingering for a moment longer on a seam to start with a slightly heavier massage. "I... shouldn't need my sight to make a massage enjoyable. And I will... remember not to ask. Though, I... I may be inclined to... point out something that... may need medical attention. If I find it. You have... notable older scars, but nothing I would consider worrying. I. Would like to ask if anything hurts. Would that be tolerable? I could" a pause to focus, fingertips rocking in tiny circles over a scar they'd found inside a seam, "try to ease any discomfort."


	10. Chapter 10

"How about something sweet?" Bowline said, leaning down a little closer to get a look at the datapads, not that she could read much of the text, too small and too far away, "Something without destroyed vehicles, if possible. Do you have any recommendations, Notepad?"  
Draft let out a short sigh, turning slightly to look at Bowline out of the corner of his optic in a small measure of thanks. He shifted his elbow to rest on the couch's arm and crossed his legs, stroking the side of his face with an absentminded finger. He'd found himself doing a lot of pondering lately about the nature of things, about the future. He was among the minority in the Choir who was comfortable by himself, with his own mind. He found himself yet again slipping into his usual meditative mood. Being a relative latecomer in the Choir meant he'd never been privy to the others' rehabilitation efforts, save for what they'd done for him. He wondered if Red would like him once they found out what he'd done. Not that he'd enjoyed the things he did but... it hadn't exactly been involuntary. He'd been able to justify his continued existence by using the strength he'd used to hurt people to protect those who saved him. The Choir knew, and his protection was worth something for redemption because he acted on it, he did it. But there was no way to prove himself to Red, not when there was none of the threats from before to protect them from. To them, possibly he'd always be the vicious brawler he had been. If they knew... If they knew.  
Sticks sighed, pulling a few from the stack to look through, _.:Could go for a rom-com right about now:._ _"No sign for... that right?"_ They picked one up and squinted at the description, turning it over. They didn't recognize the species on the cover. They turned it around, trying to make sense of it then set it down, _"Where did these_ come _from?"_  
.

Salvo's posture straightened up abruptly at the attention, "H-hey ooh," his plating flared a bit, "oh that's. That's good. You're good at that. Um, that's a good question. I got clipped once on the side of the head and it doesn't hurt now but I think you could probably do some magic on it. But- actually now that I'm thinkin about it there's something you should know... about me." He turned around to face Red and caught one of their servos. Adjusting his grip so it was on their wrist instead (Sticks's constant reminders were working at last), he brought it over to one side of his chassis, in the area under his arm and let it stay there, making sure their fingers were touching what was set there, "These?" he pulled Red's servo down to show there were multiple, "Live rounds. Same on the other side. They've got energon in em and an ignition cap and everything. Nothing to be worried about, I've lived with em for a long time, but since we're going to be pretty physical, it's important to tell you. Just don't... slap them too hard, heat em up, drill into em, anything like that I dunno."    
Salvo released Red's servo and held still for a moment, "Not that I think you'd do that but. I am a gun- my alt's a gun. There are some risks that come with existing this way. I've got some empty shells that just- well," he reached around back and caught one of his trailing shell-holders. The empty shells clattering against his back plating as he brought it up front to touch to Red's forearm, "Like this. They're harmless, got an ignition cap in em but the worst that'll do is make some sparks. Don't have to worry about em. Nothing  _ to _ be worried about- just. I forget sometimes people don't know -and they should. The ship's peaceful, shouldn't be... having weapons around."

 

Notepad flipped through a few more 'pads, then picked one out and turned it over to show them the title screen. "This looks nice. It's an animated film of a fictional organic species. Let's see- no major violence, no vehicle destruction, sounds good- oh, 'organic nudity', though. Two members of a pack are separated from the group, have adventures, and fall for each other while finding their way back. Sounds cute, and it's- let's see, Patches would have checked this over for content- ah, yes, he's put notes in here. Definitely cute. All right- let me just get the remote," they muttered, stretching over to get the controller, and set about bringing the movie up. "All the movies we have in public areas have been screened by someone, usually someone on the ship, to put content warnings on them. Helps avoid people being triggered, or just plain upset. Or accidentally watching something that does not fit the mood. This should be- Patches says it's a good 'soft film', so this should be good!"    
Forceps wasn't one for movies, not really, but they did want to keep an optic on Sticks. Bowline and Draft might also benefit from some brief observation.  _ "No sign for that. These are from opportunistic traders, Cybertronian and not. Also, organic friends. Ship managed to be helpful in enough places that a few organic species think of us as something less sinister than genocidal murder machines. Blackspark in particular has friends, but most organics still do not like Cybertronians. Understandable." _

.

Red contemplated the shells for a few moments, rubbing individual shells between their fingertips in contemplation, and nodded slightly in understanding. "Noted. Could remove these later. Or remove the majority- decrease the intensity of any potential explosions," they suggested, lingering for longer against the empty ones, then trailed their fingertips up the length of the shell-holder. "Almost vampiric, these. To be loaded off your blood. I..." very soft, contemplative, nearly sad but not quite, "treated a patient with a... similar? No. With your exact frame design. Too pumped up on adrenaline to know when to stop. Fired off shells until they were functionally exsanguinated. Survived it, barely, with transfusions. Try not to do that."    
Losing interest in the textures and shapes of Salvo's shell-holders, they ran their fingertips up his back instead, feeling things out, until they found the old marks. "Show me where the bench is?" they suggested, quietly, and began to massage the back of Salvo's neck. Long, slow rubs, even and soothing, mixed with firm circling motions with both thumbs. Start out easy, work their way up under the edge of the plating, get Salvo relaxed slightly and then majorly focus on the scars. They were content with the rinsing they got from the water, they'd rather focus on Salvo. And Salvo's enjoyment. "If it hurts, tell me. But... sit. Last time I did something like this, their knees buckled. Had to work on them all over again after they got off the floor. Show me... what you want, here and otherwise. I don't need my optics. It feels..." they whispered, nudging their face into the back of Salvo's helm, "almost normal. Never... used my optics for this sort of thing before. Not that I had many chances for this. Shame. I enjoy it. Feels... good. Hard to corrupt."

  
  


"Organic nudity should be fascinating actually," Bowline said, leaning a bit further over the couch, "Draft?"   
"No complaints," Draft said quickly.   
Sticks sat up a bit to say something but waved their servo and sat back. As much as announcing they were psyched for organic nudity (which was only slightly true) appealed to them, verbally, it wasn't going to happen. As soon as the film began to roll, Draft and Bowline quieted down. Draft took the opportunity simply to look at something while thinking of other things, however vaguely paying attention to the plot as much as he would deny it. Bowline, lacking anything productive to do save for being present for those there, put both arms up on the back of the couch, leaned forward, rested the bottom of her helm on her servos, and watched the film in earnest. Every so often the room could hear the sound of her helm moving slightly in judgement of what was onscreen.   
_ "Understandable" _ Sticks mirrored and sat back slightly, gazing at the screen with increasingly tired optics. They slowly lifted their arm to wrap around Forceps's shoulder, tugging on them to come closer. At last, the chance to be doing something relatively frivolous after the events of the past hours. It felt good.   
.

"As... as it should be," Salvo smiled slightly and led them to the shower bench, seating them before dropping to the floor. He silently guided their servos to the spot on his helm, a tapered, finger-thick line stretching from behind the right corner of his visor to most of the way back from his face. It was a different texture than the metal around it, and held heat in a way completely unlike metal, though thoroughly covered by nanites. Visually it was almost indistinguishable from the rest of his helm but tactically it wasn't difficult to tell it was filled in by an entirely non-metallic substance. He sat for a moment, all-to-quietly, as a kind of tempered melancholy slunk into his field.    
"That happened to me, too, yanno," Salvo said at last, he sounded... tired, almost sad, "Except it wasn't my fault. I was in alt mode and this- this  _ maniac _ with garbage aim wouldn't stop. Didn't care of course. Nobody sheds tears for an MTO.  It... it  _ sucked. _ " He shook his head with a quick in-vent, "Not fun to be this way but... I can't shake the feeling the fightin's gonna start up again. It could at any second. If I was completely disarmed I'd be  _ entirely _ defenseless." Salvo sighed and leaned a bit further back into Red's servos, "probably a bit more grim than you signed up for, huh."

  
  


Notepad sat back with their legs crossed, perfectly happy with this situation, and scooted a bit closer to everyone else after a moment. This movie  _ was _ cute! The plot wasn't exactly complicated, but the characters, little creatures that (though they wouldn't have known) rather resembled blue, bioluminescent jackalopes, were sweet and engaging. Clever little things, too! Lots of interesting solutions to problems. And a very, very cute scene of mutual grooming.    
Not really Forceps' taste, but the opportunity to curl up next to Sticks was nice, and at least the movie wasn't  _ annoying _ . Mostly, it was  _ Sticks _ they were interested in. The... quiet, stable lifesigns. Curling in slightly, they put an arm around Sticks' frame in return, low on their frame, fingertips resting against their chassis plating.    
.   
"Understandable. Probably written into your genetic code. Perhaps... how long does this take to load? You could put your excess full shells into subspace for now," Red suggested quietly, leaning against Salvo's frame slightly, then paused as they found the spot. Frowning, they rubbed and tapped along the area for a moment, murmuring "what  _ is _ this", then leaned down and outright licked the spot. What- this wasn't metal. This wasn't anything they'd ever encountered. A few more rubs and prods, then they settled into a pattern, rubbing firmly at the area. "It feels... almost as though it properly assimilated. Have sensors grown into this area?" they asked quietly, rubbing gently, massaging around the area partially out of curiosity and partially to see if it might help. After a little while longer, they rubbed further back along the area to the edge of the helm plating, dipping their fingertips underneath to press and stroke. "Good?"

  
  


"Hmm, yeah," Salvo said, regaining some of his candor, "it's filled with- I think in the end they called it insect resin? Sticks- you met 'em, small, sat next to you, they're our medic- figured out if you ground up the shells of some of the native insects on the sand planet you could use em to make a kinda paste. Good for cracked things mostly but sometimes something breaks in half or you lose part of something- that's what happened here, some nasty bastard was using bullets instead of a regular blaster and it just went right through the plating, minced it. I got real lucky. Anyway you can use it to make new plating if you don't have the stuff to do it properly. It's real hard, not particularly durable but you could make a lot of it so it worked good enough." He paused, touching his fingertips to the beginning of the scar, "it feels... strange. I can definitely feel  _ something _ but not everything. Temperature especially, which is good and bad. Can't speak about sensors cause I just don't know but it's definitely not being rejected- imagine my surprise when I first saw it was red instead of the ugly beige it is on its own, was worried people would be able to see it forever, beige does  _ not _ go with my color palette I'll tell ya that much."

 

Red stroked the odd texture for a moment longer, focusing intently, then let their servos wander away as they spoke. "Fascinating. Although, I would... be inclined to suggest that you have it strength-tested. If it were on a limb, I would be less concerned, but your processor needs as much protection as your frame permits. It is also possible your nanites will use this as a framework and will gradually replace it with proper materials. It should be interesting to observe. But, I would prefer to... focus on enjoyment now."    
Slightly more confident now that they were sitting and therefore couldn't fall over, Notepad pressed their thumbs hard against the back of Salvo's neck, then ran them up in slow, even circles, underneath his helm armor. Not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough that it would border on discomfort, if not for how it tended to loosen cabling. "Guide me, if you can, to any scars. I cannot directly massage your helm plating, it won't yield enough, but reducing any tension I find in your frame will ease any future pain."    
Focusing on the massage was almost meditative. Red relaxed gradually, field unfurling further to purr quiet  _ satisfaction/contentment/comfort _ with a quiet undernote reserved only for mutual grooming sessions. Perfectly normal. Perfectly content. Likely not something Salvo was used to. Red's servos traveled slowly down Salvo's back until they found a notable scar, then they began to work along its length, rubbing and loosening the taunt material. "Painful?"

 

Salvo tensed and leaned his helm towards their servos, "A-a little. I... don't know how it's supposed to feel." He gradually relaxed as he got used to Red's rhythm, humming a single note of relief, it did feel good. "That one you've found's a bug bite. Parasites found they had a taste for energon, got... a fair few like that. Though not much I can show without taking off some armor -nasty bastards. 'Nother one right-" he scooted Red's servos over to the space where his pauldrons met his back plating, "here. Got stabbed near there too, once. Rowdy Decepticon scout got too close way back when. Never really was any good at close-quarters combat."    
Salvo chuckled a bit and sighed happily as Red worked, "So you like to sing- still owe me another song by the way, and I... assume you like to give people massages. Anything else you do for fun? Seeing as we're both rather unemployed I figure we could pick up some hobbies to pass the time. Should? Probably should. Could learn something new together? I've personally always wanted to  _ make _ something yanno?"

 

Red lingered on the area for a moment longer until they felt it becoming slightly more pliable, the tense structure of the scar broken up slightly, and shifted their work to the other scar. "The momentary discomfort will pass. Breathe," they whispered, and confined the next portion of the massage to exclusively non-scarred areas, working the tension and discomfort out. The question brought them to a pause, though, they had to think. "This... is the only thing I can do right now that I used to do for pleasure. I a-  _ was _ a medic, so my... usual hobbies were largely related to construction and maintenance of useful items. Blindness hinders that."    
A long moment of stillness, then they started up again, focusing on the areas of Salvo's shoulders where people tended to carry tension. Long, firm rubs, occasionally shifting to press with their knuckles. "Would you... be willing to remove some of your plating for better access? Nothing too significant," they requested, very soft, focused on what they were doing again. After a few more moments, "Patches offered to teach me how to make candy. He... he's good at that, isn't he? I find myself... somewhat tempted. He seems kind," they remarked, very softly, a tiny flicker of fondness going through their field.

 

"You're gonna learn how to make Patches's candy? That's a great idea!" Salvo said, reaching back to jiggle loose the upper plating on his back, "That way when he says I can't have any I'll just ask you instead. Take that Patches! Haha!" he cheered a little louder, "Not that he did anything wrong that time, he's an honest mech and I  _ do _ have a reputation for destroying doors. But-" Salvo quieted a bit, "you should. I think you should, and that's only partially selfish. I mean, you can make things and then you have all this candy and you don't even have to  _ share, _ you can just eat it all. You know how much  _ power _ that is? Plus, yanno, it beats doing nothing."   
Salvo finally dislodged the large plate he was working on. It served to protect the base of his neck  and some of the interior mechanisms for his loading assembly. Underneath was a somewhat-dusty but active clump of muscle cabling, some unprotected exterior spinal ridges, and the base attachments for two pistons amongst some superficial energon lines and various tubing. The aforementioned stabbing scar tapered off into this area. Salvo held the plate for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with it, before hastily deciding on setting it down on the bench next to Red. It took a few moments to realize what he'd done as he felt an instinctual unnerving sense of exposure creep up into his mind. Red was good, though, he trusted them.

  
  


"You could learn as well," Red suggested softly, petting over the exposed area in broad, easy strokes, giving Salvo a moment to get used to the contact. A pause, feeling their way up the wall to briefly redirect the shower over Salvo's back and clean it off, then placed their palms against the pistons and hummed lightly. "Tell me if this is too unnerving," they whispered, then began to rub at Salvo's back a bit harder, leaning the palms of their servos into his frame. Long, slow strokes along his spine, occasionally venturing out along certain lines, fingertips sometimes pressing in to tweak or realign anything that wasn't perfect. Maybe they couldn't see it, but that honestly didn't make this all that much harder. It wasn't as though they had to find Salvo. He wasn't going anywhere.    
A light tweak to a crooked energon line, then Red swayed slightly in place, leaned slowly over Salvo, and pressed their front to his exposed back, leaning slightly on his shoulders for support. "Apologies. I... have not been sleeping well," they explained, and stayed like that for several moments, engine  _ almost _ purring, before leaning back slightly to continue. This time, it was something they were sure would be good- minor aches and momentary twinges at most, mixed with a significant amount of pleasure. It might be a bit difficult to go much lower on his back in this position, but... no complaints.

  
  


"S'alright, big bad nightmares will do that to you. You can take a nap if you wanna," Salvo tilted his head back a bit, trying to get a glimpse of Red's face, "Just lemme know so I can turn off the shower, don't want miss tall and sharp to yell at me for wasting all the hot water." Turning his head back around to let Red continue, he thought aloud, "It's a weird feeling. I've never had someone touch this spot before, not outside of emergencies or yanno, medical procedures." he paused, as much as retrieving a fist-sized rock from his reload assembly counted as a medical procedure. Salvo's muscle cables began to twitch in varying degrees of intensity at Red's touch as their servos ventured further down. But the mech stayed put, field projecting a contented calm. By the sound of Red's voice, they were enjoying this immensely. And they were relaxed! Enough to lay down to rest a bit. He'd learn to get used to the feeling, he could already feel his frame relax, bit by bit, as it adjusted to what Red was doing.

"Bit of a subject change but there are some things we gotta figure out. Logistics, yanno. I figure we're gonna start living together, at least until you've got a handle on the nightmares or you get sick of me, but would you want to come to my room, or have me camp out in yours? I room with Draft and he wouldn't mind, for sure. We've got a pretty cozy setup but it's a bit of a walk to the medbay. Up to you, though." Salvo leaned back a bit and stretched an arm out to catch the back of Red's helm, massaging his fingers in slightly, "Next order of business is setting up a time to fix your audial. We can schedule a date a few days or weeks out and then you can prepare yourself for that date or we can come in on the spot the first time you think you can handle it so you don't have any chances to get yourself riled up. Whichever you think is better. I'll have to insist it happens at some point though," Salvo smiled mischievously and let a good helping of facetiousness into his field, "Don't wanna be petting you one day and accidentally knock it off,  _ then _ what would I do, huh? Don't think Patches would forgive me, no  _ sir. _ "

  
  


"Scalpel likes being clean. Medics do, but... her, more so. She has... claws on her pedes, I think. They click on the floor. Sounds different. Patches is heavy, Forceps is lighter, and Acus... keeps sneaking up on me. Too soft. Scalpel clicks. Sometimes just when she's standing. She goes over to the sinks a lot. Seen it happen a few times. Medics... start to associate clean servos with safety. If there's time to wash up between patients, there's time to save patients, it's not just... scrambling to- oh-"    
Red jumped slightly, having caught the motion but not registered where Salvo's servos were going, then leaned into the touches slightly. They could feel the cabling relaxing, everything aligning itself properly under their servos. Satisfying. Everything settling in as though it was supposed to be. Most of it had been at least slightly misaligned to work with- not enough that things wouldn't work, but enough for it to be tense and less than efficient. "You should feel less tense soon. Your frame has been... gradually working itself out of alignment, and tensing to compensate."

A moment more of quiet, then a soft sigh, though their voice didn't go any smaller as they spoke. "I don't yet have a room. I was on suicide watch. I am not any more, but... I have no way to navigate back to the medbay. I suppose I could... ask if there are any empty rooms near the medbay. Perhaps you could... help me figure out a setup that would not have me hurting myself on everything?"    
Crouching slightly, they leaned their weight against Salvo's frame to press a more stubborn patch of cabling back into line, then slid their fingertips firmly between the lines of muscle cables to make sure everything underneath was aligned properly. "For my audial... I would be open to that after we... finish with this. Would you- hnf," they muttered, having accidentally elbowed themself in the stomach, "-would you be open to moving this to a berth for now? This is not the best angle, and I doubt you would be comfortable lying on the floor."

 

Salvo sat up a bit at the suggestion, a grin playing across his face, "Taking me to the berth on the first date, I see. Well I'm happy to oblige." He leaned forward and slowly stood up so as not to spook Red and turned the shower off. As he reached full height he rolled his shoulders a bit, already feeling the effects of Red's work. Grabbing his backplate from the bench with one servo, he bent over to offer them a forearm, pushing it gently into their chassis so they knew it was there, "I feel better and I felt good before, I dunno how you're doing this Red but you're definitely good at it."   
Once Red had a good hold on him, Salvo led them out the door and to the nearest berth, thinking aloud again, "I'm wondering if we could set up some sorta rope system, put it along the walls so you could get to the medbay on your own. I mean I'd accompany you any time you'd want to go but I dunno, maybe you wanna get places on your own? I don't even know how much you'd wanna hang out here, too. I'll bring you here for emergencies anyway... As for the room, something like," He paused to find the right word, "some kinda padding, something soft around the edges of things until you get the lay of the room. And-ooh! We could push the small things to the sides so you don't have to navigate around them. Or- I dunno would you want it to be more packed in so there's always something to touch?"   
When they got to the berth, Salvo sat down on the side first so Red knew where he was, then stretched out on his front on the berth, burying his face in- "Wait, this smells  _ used _ " he said, jerking his head up to look around, "right this is where Notepad was. Hmm..." Salvo stuck his face on the other side of the berth, "it does! It smells like Sticks too... huh."

 

"Oh, you- you get used to the discomfort, your processor stops consciously registering it to protect you from the stress, but it-" Red began, wearing a slightly goofy, albeit tiny smile,  _ thoroughly _ pleased at the response, "-it still registers, subconsciously, in an attempt to get you to seek out improvement. Fixing that removes the stress. It's... not inherently difficult, I can show you how to do this for someone else," they offered, sticking close to Red the whole way. Their steps were visibly less hesitant, though, with someone to guide them.   
After a breath or two, they pricked their winglets a fraction, looking slightly hopeful. "That could work. I'm... told there are few guidelines on assisting a blind patient, everything is about how to  _ fix _ blindness, which. No. But... the ropes could work. I would certainly be willing to try."    
And then, ah- perfect. A berth. Winglets lifting further, Red waited for Salvo to settle, then moved up next to him and lightly stroked his back. Further down from where they'd been before, the small of the back- there were always lots of small plates here, intricate workings to allow for flexibility. People didn't carry too much stress here, usually, but they misaligned everything very easily. No exception. Humming softly, they began to rub at the workings here, shifting them back into place, tracing and rubbing with their palms and then venturing in closer to dig their fingertips in. Figure out where everything was, then where it was supposed to be, then set about putting it to rights. Slow, firm, no rush, just... rub and massage and push until it was lined up and put to rights.    
And then. Hm. Lay down on top of Salvo's back for a moment or two. They weren't  _ too _ heavy!

 

Salvo swayed slightly in the berth at the feeling- he didn't even know his backplates weren't in the right spot but evidently they were now, "you know I'd love to learn act-oof." Once he caught his breath, he jolted his head up at the feeling of Red's frame hitting his back. Propping himself up on an elbow he turned around as best he could... and stopped just short of being able to see them. His helm crest hit the front side of one of his pauldrons with a grating clank. Out of the corner of his gaze he could see Red's back, not enough to tell if they were hurt or not.   
" _ Fuck _ this frame and it's stupid goddamn pauldrons, not being able to  _ see- _ " Salvo grumbled, "You okay back there Red? Do you need help or are you just taking that nap. Uhh one tap for 'need help' two taps for 'fine' if you can."

Oops. What had been a vague idea of "slowly lay down on top of Salvo for a moment" had turned into "fall asleep in midair while leaning down", and Red made a very confused sound against Salvo's back as they woke up again. "mmmfh, two? Oh. Fell asleep. Sorry. Pauldrons're... inconvenient. Stop," they declared, and reached up to push Salvo back down onto the berth. Without getting up from his back at all. "ssstop, not... not done. Jus'. Sleepy."    
True to their word, they were not done. Despite staying lying on Salvo's back with their face between his shoulders, they ran both servos along his sides until they found a spot they could easily reach, then began to massage up under his chassis plating. This, well- this had no real purpose, nothing meant to align, it was just for pleasure. Firm rubs interspersed with a sort of scritching motion, petting cables that were practically never touched but always seemed to appreciate a good scratch.

Soundwave was curious. That was a significant personality trait of his, he liked to know things. So, feeling considerably better after a long sleep and another cube of energon, he collected himself and Laserbeak and went to explore. Well. He went out into the medbay, and then stopped, realizing that this was not the best circumstance. Two bots were between him and the door. They looked comfortable enough, but one- one lifted their helm towards the door-noise, and wasn't that interesting, where had their optics gone? He'd seen an attempted self-blinding before, but that was an Autobot with blunt fingers, this bot had  _ succeeded _ in- well. That was impressive. The other, some variety of MTO, heavily armed-    
Heavily armed and now thoroughly  _ alarmed _ . Ah. Problem. Soundwave, for about the first time in several decades, visibly backed down, raising both servos in a placating gesture. Did he  _ really _ look like he was up to something? He was still limping slightly and wrapped in a noticeable amount of bandaging, he wasn't here to  _ do _ anything. So, trying to avoid a confrontation, he backed up another step or two and lowered his plating, crossing the flat of one lower arm over his chassis to shield Laserbeak but otherwise not doing anything even remotely aggressive or protective. Waiting.

  
  


"You know you can just nap and finish it later ri-" Salvo spotted Soundwave's angular, shadowy form and instantly sprang up, pushing himself off the berth with one servo planted firmly under Red's aft to keep them from falling off. He retreated slowly, hunched over to maintain balance, with Red facing firmly away from any danger, his free arm transformed and trained on the intruder, "Hold on as best you can, Red" he whispered. His mind ran wild in the meantime. Draft and Bowline were down for the count, Burner was out of reach and here he was alone with a literally defenseless, blind, charge against the Decepticon third, noted pit fighter. Soundwave's frame was built for fast movements, an up close melee fighter with a long reach.    
At this distance Salvo had one shot, maybe two if the mech decided to charge him. But he- he didn't. He was- Salvo felt the small impact of the next berth travel through Red's frame into his own. He didn't dare take his optics off Soundwave to check how close he was to the wall, instead choosing to widen his stance, this would be his point alpha. But Soundwave was... retreating? He was bandaged up. Salvo lowered his arm but kept it in gun-mode, pointed away.    
" _ You, _ " Salvo projected across the medbay, letting his second vocalizer drop very low, the mech was clearly attempting to be as non-threatening as possible, whether this was a feint or genuine he couldn't tell, but what he did know was he would not let him hurt his charge. He summoned every ounce of charisma in his frame and stood up slightly, still holding onto Red, face steeled, field projecting confidence, danger, 'don't come any closer' without a single blip of fear. His visor glowed brightly as he spoke again, "What are  _ you _ doing, Soundwave."

 

Red yelped pitifully as their servos were snagged, frightened by the sudden motion and thoroughly in pain, and whimpered as they got their fingers out of the cramped spots. Frightened and upset, they tucked their servos up under their chin for protection, trembling as they tried to figure out what was happening. Panting, they leaned into Salvo's frame, but couldn't help much with holding on- their servos still ached too much for them to be willing to un-tuck. Soft, shaky whining, face pressed into Salvo's frame, helm moving in tiny, frantic motions in a desperate attempt to at least locate the threat- a thoroughly frightened image, and for what? Nothing. Nothing but Salvo's distressed lifesigns. They didn't even know what-    
Soundwave.    
It was  _ Soundwave _ .

Soundwave, meanwhile, was not thrilled by this situation. He didn't exactly want to frighten the blind, scarred medic. The main threat here was the mech with the  _ gun _ . Who, at least, didn't seem to be planning to start firing right now. So... Soundwave was going to try to work with this. If he could get the Autobot to settle, great. But his charisma was... considerably less than average, and he didn't exactly have a voice to be polite with. If he couldn't settle the Autobot, his next plan would be to go for it. He'd charged headlong into more than a few gun fights, it wasn't  _ too _ difficult to avoid the majority of the blasts. Especially with a bot who was occupied with something else. Like a blind, frightened medic. If Soundwave got his cables onto the Autobot, that would be it as far as the threat- pin him down, detach the blind bot, pin the Autobot until he accepted defeat. Probably not the best thing, though, it would scare the blind bot even further and would not make the best impression on anyone who were to walk in at that point. Plus, charging, and thus eliciting a violent response, was... less than a tempting idea, especially considering the tiny frame curled in his belly. He couldn't risk that.    
So. Nonviolence first. Moving slowly, he gestured slightly towards the door, playing one of his 'neutral' recordings. A recording, tweaked slightly to alter the tone and render the voice unrecognizable, so no one would recognize it as familiar -potentially as an enemy- and be put further on guard. "Leaving," he explained, then lifted his chin slightly, indicating Salvo without moving his arms. "Being threatened."

 

Part of Salvo's mind strained close to snapping at Red's pitiful noises, the other part was focused on fixing the situation. Deescalation was not in his repertoire, but did he want to fight Soundwave? Not here, not now, not from this distance, not without the rest of the Choir backing him up. He'd lose. And if he lost, Red would be in danger and alone again and the Choir would be out of a leader. He wouldn't have that.   
"Course I'm threatening you, you're threatening," Salvo said, his voice back to normal now, "Leave. Get on with it. If you fuck with us I'll put a hole in your frame the size of your helm. Understood?"    
Salvo backed up a bit, finding the berth with his arm to set Red down on top of it. It was then he realized he couldn't feel their servos on him, something was wrong, Red was scared again, but what was he supposed to do, take his optics off the clearly-dangerous mech? He moved a step to the side, still keeping most of his frame in between Red and Soundwave, and reached back to place a steadying servo on their back, fingers exploring slightly for any injury, anything he hadn't seen before. Salvo's servo was shaking, along with his entire frame. There were tiny tremors traveling up his arms and legs, completely unnoticeable to anyone not right next to him, a mixture of adrenaline, nerves, and the creeping fear that history would repeat itself, that after all these years of success he'd fail once again.

 

Soundwave nodded once, and started moving again, slowly. One arm out slightly to guard his stomach and chassis, helm cocked so he could continue watching Salvo out the corner of his optic without straight-up staring, moving slowly and as steadily as he could despite the limp wanting to manifest itself. Slow, steady, easily predictable motions- and deliberately tapping his heels as he stepped to let the blind bot track his motions. And it  _ worked _ \- he could see the bot's face following him. Still tracking Salvo's motions, he slowly reached to open the door, stepped out, and shut it, leaving them alone.    
Now. Where was the bridge in relation to the medbay, again? That was the best place to get data. Besides, he rather liked the idea of taking over the captain's chair to watch the responses. Though Crucible was strong enough to pick him up and move him away. And the other bot, from before- the pretty thing with the horns and the wings. That was an unusual set of genetics. Vaguely familiar.

The door audibly shut, and Red slumped against Salvo's frame, trembling much harder than he was, servos still tucked up under their chin. The ache faded away somewhat, and Red put an arm around Salvo's frame, hugging him close, but kept the other servo tucked up. The plates had been wrenched, hard, by the motions, and some were still rather crooked. It hurt. Both servos hurt, but this one had gotten the worst of it, and shifting their fingers even slightly hurt even more. One was working, at least, painful but able to shift, but-  _ ow _ .    
Their trembling began to ease slightly, and they whimpered slightly harder, their one working servo sliding up to check Salvo's pulse. "He's. He's gone. Y-you're- it's okay?" they whispered, very softly, not quite sure of it themself. They didn't know, but- they'd heard Soundwave leave. That left him still on the ship, but- that was Soundwave. Who- actually, no, it- it  _ was _ fine. "Salvo, he's- you-  _ nobody _ scares him. If- if he left, it's- it's because he didn't- w-we must not be important. It's- it's okay, we're-  _ ah _ , ow-"

  
  


Salvo watched with sharp gaze as Soundwave exited, standing stock still for a few moments after the door closed behind him in case the mech tried to spring a surprise attack. Each whimper that came from behind him added another stone to his frame until it became too great a weight to carry. Clenching his dentae, he snapped his arm back to normal, servo curling into a fist. He turned around and knelt down to see what was wrong with Red, quickly patting down their helm, chassis, then arms until finally he spotted their servos. He sighed, something catching in his throat, that was his fault. He slowly drew his fingertips up Red's helm and brought it close in next to his throat.   
"He's gone for now. For some reason people on this ship seem to trust him but I don't- I don't buy it. Came here last night looking all beat up. I don't know what his plan is, if he's trying to infiltrate or what. I guess I'd forgotten with everything going on. If he tries anything I'll keep you safe, though truthfully we'd need to be much better prepared  to really take him on. We should move from this spot before too long but for now, your  _ fingers _ Red. That was my fault," Salvo could feel his face heating up. He tucked Red's helm further under his chin and brought his servo up to his visor, a moment's hesitation and he plucked it from its spot and laid it down on the berth. His face twitched a bit at the increase in lighting but at least he'd be able to cry without worrying about sparks bouncing back and hitting his bare optic, "I'm so,  _ so _ sorry. I shouldn't be hurting you."

The last few words seemed to ping off his spark chamber as Salvo pulled away to see what he'd done. Tears rolled down his bare cheeks, now freed from their cage. He brought his palm to meet Red's and gently pet their fingers. He could feel the plating move slightly underneath his own fingertips which sent a new wave of hurt through his frame, but he stayed silent and continued to stroke, slowly but surely tweaking the plating back into the right place. He didn't even notice the tears falling on their servos as he worked.

 

Red whimpered into Salvo's throat for a moment or two, then ex-vented hard and curled in close, pawing at Salvo's frame with their one good servo. No, no, he was upset, he- it wasn't his fault! No! They intended to tell him that, too, but then he started touching their servos and their thought processes skidded to a halt. It  _ hurt _ , and then their fingertips touched living metal and medic subroutines kicked in. Their pain took a backseat to everything else, and that meant they didn't pull away as- oh.  _ Oh _ .    
Another soft noise, this time a trill, and Red quivered as their plating started to shift back into place. Leaning back slightly, they kept their servos perfectly still for a moment longer, then slowly, carefully lifted the servo not being worked on. A few practiced stretches and curls of their fingers put the slight shifts in plating to rights, and they carefully followed Salvo's frame up with tiny brushes of their fingertips until they found his face. Leaning in, they pushed their forehelm carefully against his, their more-cramped servo flexing slightly in his grip. "Stop that. Wasn't your fault. Good reflexes- trying to protect me. Didn't mean to."

A careful, deep vent, and they took their servo away, touching lightly with their fingertips in an investigative manner. "Strained. Needs relocation. Nothing more. Just... hurt. Sensitive. Keep going?" they whispered, very soft, and pushed their servo carefully back into his grasp. It hurt, yes, but it was starting to hurt less, and this was what needed to be done. And the rubbing, that- that was good!    
That was...  _ really _ good.  _ Oh _ . They hadn't had a servo massage in  _ centuries _ , and this- well, it was inexperienced, based in practicality, and still hurt to some degree, but it felt good. Salvo's servos were  _ warm _ . Now if only he weren't so upset! Nuzzling further into his frame, they braced their pedes and shoved firmly, trying to put him back on the berth. "-go. Sit. I want to go back to before. But with- w-with-  _ ohh _ -" they gasped, winglets shooting straight up, a surge of pleasure shooting all the way up their arm as Salvo did  _ something _ just right. "...oh."

  
  


Well that was an unexpected reaction, Salvo thought, doing as Red asked and moving to sit back up on the berth. He sighed and looked at Red's face for a moment as the guilt slowly dripped out of him. "I-I'll continue, of  _ course. _ It's the least I can do," He said softly, looking back down at Red's servo. He caught each finger and pinched slightly along the sides, lining up the plating. Once that was done he set to testing each finger's stretch, incrementally bending it a little bit more forward until the tension was gone, then moving onto the next one. All the while he talked, quieter than he normally would, "You could probably feel, I, um, took off my visor. It's cause- can you imagine it- if I cry in the visor it, the sparks, they bounce off of it and right into my optics and it-it hurts like a bitch. Some kinda design huh, can't even let a mech cry without hurting himself," he paused to gently spread their fingers out, at this point having completed what he'd known and simply playing with what was in his servos, "I don't usually, uhh, go around without a visor. It's a pretty rare occurrence actually. So if you wanted to get a good l-well not  _ look _ but you know, you can, now. You're allowed. Just be careful around my optics, there's not much to protect em when they're out, exposed like this. Uhm."    
Salvo seemed almost... sheepish, nervous about something, "anyway this is exciting. Sticks never lets me touch their servos, tells me never to touch medics's servos, cause they're sensitive? or something? Which is kind of ridiculous since- I~ can't tell ya that. Figure the only way I'm getting away with this now is cause you're not a medic anymore," he chuckled a bit, "but really, I don't know what I'm doing. You, uhh, have any pointers for what you like?"

  
  


Oh. Yes. That- that would be a good thing to focus on, other than the shimmers of pleasure running up their arm. Salvo must not know. This was  _ greatly _ appreciated, and it felt  _ good _ . Too good. Not an appropriate level of pleasure for a public space, with a new friend. So, that in mind, Red climbed neatly into Salvo's lap, thighs clamping around his frame for support, and ran their free servo up to pet around his optics. Gentle, of course, careful not to ever actually prod his optics. Just checking the layout. Their fingertips found the conductivity of a plug, and they paused for a moment, then slid their arm down to cling tight to Salvo's frame. Their vents kicked up, and they gave a soft, shaking noise, very near a moan, fingers curling in Salvo's grip. Vents kicking up slightly, they rocked slowly against Salvo's thigh, pushing their face into his neck and trying to figure out what to do.

This was... starting to feel very, very good. Too good. Their interface equipment hadn't responded at all, but their vents were definitely starting to rev, and their servos -both servos- were starting to  _ tingle _ . Mouth falling open, they did their best to stifle a moan, but didn't quite manage to keep themself from rocking forwards again. Salvo  _ had _ to notice this, right? He- he  _ must _ , which- which meant-   
Evidently he, at least, didn't mind. And Red, well- glad as they were that their equipment wasn't responding, save that urge to rock their hips against Salvo's thigh, they couldn't bring themself to resist. To... do anything, really, other than-    
Other than hook an arm around Salvo's frame for support, grasping at his back plating, and vent shakily against his shoulder. Their fingers twitched or curled now and then as Salvo found especially good spots, and the newly aligned plating lifted up into the touches, opening them up for more contact.  _ More _ . They couldn't remember the last time someone had touched their servos like- like  _ this _ , and it-    
A sharp gasp slipped from their throat, and their entire arm twitched, then they groaned long and slow and pushed the fingers on their unoccupied servo up under Salvo's side plating again. They couldn't  _ not _ \- the mismatch was too great otherwise. They needed the stimulation, the heat, the texture, the- everything.    
Primus.

 

Salvo slowed for a bit, slightly confused. The hugging he got, the now very-nice massage he got, which he was, in his mind, reciprocating. The vents... maybe Red was just emotional? It'd been a long couple hours and... and they seemed to like giving massages but when was the last time they  _ received _ a massage? Better times? What was he to say, people were emotional. But the... the groans? That could be more... emotions, he supposed.    
He let out a contented sigh, there was something more important. He'd felt Red's finger brush over his disturbing secret and they seemed to not notice. Or if they noticed they didn't care. Maybe they'd dealt with an MTO like him before. Maybe they knew what it was for, the little port just above his left optic, whose hole snaked its way directly to his processor. It bothered him to ever acknowledge it but Red seemed not to truly care. It was a good feeling, not to be seen as a horrific oddity.   
Okay there was definitely something suspect with the way Red was treating his leg. Now that he thought about it, it was a little... wait. His optics brightened considerably as his entire face flushed. This!! This was!! Wasn't it?? But there's no... What about...?   
Salvo coughed rather loudly and held Red's servo in his own, palm up, "Red, friend, buddy, uhm, if you're just havin a... a moment I completely understand and by all means continue. But I," his voice cracked a bit in embarrassment, "I don't understand- Could you uhh, explain what's going on here?"

  
  


Red might have had some thoughts about the plug, in different circumstances. Mostly indignation on Salvo's behalf. Right now, though, the only thing they could spare any processor power for was-   
Was  _ mortification _ , now. Oh dear Primus, Salvo didn't know? Which meant he- he hadn't meant to- oh, Primus. Red withdrew as much as they could bear, tugging both servos carefully away from his frame, and curled into a ball with their face hidden behind their arms in embarrassment. They'd just- they were- oh no.    
After a few embarrassed moments, they spoke, albeit very softly, servos flexing against nothing in particular. "It's  _ sensitive _ . Medics' servos are- are  _ very _ sensitive. In- in some circumstances, it- it can be interpreted as- in- in a sexual manner. I'm- I'm so sorry, I-I thought you'd  _ realized _ , I didn't know you'd- I-I wouldn't- if I'd  _ known _ , I'd... sorry. Sorry, Salvo. Do- do y-you- you asked me what- what I like, I'm- I am  _ so sorry _ , I didn't- d-do you need me to- to leave?" they asked, even softer, starting to lean away, then whimpered and huddled into the tiniest possible ball. "I can stop. I-I can stop, just,  _ please _ , please let me stay, please, Salvo, please," they begged, completely open, completely blatant, unwrapping their arms from their helm in order to speak clearly. "I'm  _ sorry _ . Please. Please, Salvo. I'll be good. Please."

They didn't recognize it, of course, they couldn't see themself from the outside, but they looked about as pitiful as it was possible for someone to look without being seriously injured. Dear Primus, they'd- Salvo hadn't  _ known _ , that was  _ creepy _ of them to be- to be  _ enjoying _ \-    
Unless- there was a chance he'd- he'd asked what they wanted, maybe he-    
Was there  _ any _ chance he'd- "Salvo, I- I wasn't going to open up, not out here, it just felt- that felt so good, and my servos are sensitive, and- and you- it seemed like you were trying to- to make me feel good, I thought you might- I'm- did you- you didn't  _ mean _ to- no, no, of- of course you didn't, I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, I am so sorry, Salvo, I didn't- I'll- I'll go if you need me to, but,  _ please _ , please don't need me to," they finished, and turned their face up to him, still quivering, vents kicked up to a higher speed despite everything else. Their frame wanted to be touched. Salvo's attention to their hurts, then the continued affection, had registered as a potential source of the contact they were craving. They desperately wanted,  _ needed _ to be held, and then- well, what touch-starved frame wouldn't jump at the chance for mutual pleasure?

 

Salvo blushed even harder and let out a disbelieving laugh, "So that's what Sticks meant by... sensitive. Hoo, wow. Red calm down you talk too much, can barely understand ya," He reached out to bring them closer, placing his servos on their shoulders, "It's fine it's okay. That ahh, fills in some blanks... actually. Um. It seems to be a-hah, mutual misunderstanding, which is fine. You're... not the first one to interpret me being, well, myself as... advances of some sort," he paused, voice going slightly quieter, "Slag, half the Choir thought that way at some point. I think I come off as more into interface than I am... which is none. Not into it. Tried it once, didn't do anything for me and I got sand in my panel that only really came out all the way a few months ago. I'm... I don't know how to feel about it."

Salvo sat back a little bit and marinated for a moment. That was... more personal than he'd like to have gone but the embarrassment seemed to be putting him in much more of a sharing mood. He guessed he didn't  _ mind _ the idea of jerking someone off. Red seemed to like what he was doing a  _ lot _ and it's not like there were  _ fluids _ going anywhere, he didn't have to show any of his netherparts. When he and Draft had tried, Draft didn't seem too excited either, but Red was. Maybe this would be different? He'd never seen an overload before, which piqued his curiosity more than anything else. And after all that, it seemed like a nice thing to do for a new friend who so clearly needed the attention.   
"Hmm," Salvo hummed, then leaned forward to catch Red's other servo, the one that he hadn't started on (after all if he was going to do this at least he'd right his wrong from earlier), "You're good, you're okay. I wanted to know what you liked specifically, so I could do that. I don't know how to massage things, especially not servos. I figure I'd like to see someone overload at least once in my life, if it means ah... helping you along myself, it doesn't quite matter to me. Just um, I don't think I could handle any equipment right now- mentally. If you're amenable to that then, allow me to start again and  _ really _ give it to ya."  Salvo traced his thumb around Red's palm, ready to really give it all he had. After all, why half-aft it after all this?

 

Red went silent as Salvo started talking, slumping limp in relief, and crawled further into Salvo's lap for comfort. Oh. He... definitely wasn't upset. He was open, curious- willing! Hopeful, Red pressed further into Salvo's frame, stroking at his side with their free servo, and curled their fingers gently against Salvo's servo. Oh. Well, this was- this was in, uh, in public, but it- ohh, Primus. They wanted more of everything. A soft, purring trill, and they slipped their fingertips between plates on Salvo's side, purring very softly to him as they started to settle in. As their fans started to kick up further, in particular.    
"It- it's- ohh. Yes. Definitely amenable," they groaned, hips rocking in a tentative motion, and whimpered quietly in pleasure. "Like- like that. Up- along my- t-the sides of my servos, between the bases of- of my fingers, if- if you don't mind, it's-  _ oh _ !" they squeaked, then shuddered, winglets flicking up slightly higher. "Oh. Primus. No- no equipment required, I-I can fully- I-I can-  _ oh _ , Primus-  _ there _ ?"    
Hard to remain focused on their own mortification with Salvo rubbing them like this. This servo was fine, no plates that needed relocating, so this was sheer pleasure. Mouth falling open slightly, they whimpered and rocked against Salvo's frame, again, hips bucking instinctively. They might not need any contact to their equipment for this, but the reflex to thrust and grind was still there. Interestingly, their plating wasn't heating up at all. Their equipment wasn't taking any interest.

 

There was something a little strange about being the calm one in the pair when nothing was wrong, Salvo thought. But, he supposed, it just meant he'd be less likely to mess up, "Careful where you put your fingers, Red, we don't want a repeat in case we get spooked again. Now," he shifted his grip on Red's servo, pressing his thumbs up the sides, slowly but firmly, "sides and finger bases, just the answer I'd wanted. Damn, they really are sensitive, huh. That is a dangerous piece of knowledge- not that I'd use it to hurt anyone, of course, that'd be a low blow and I don't hit low, after all what's a win when you had to cheat to get there. But," he switched again to run his fingertips in between their fingers, "The mischief that could be done with this information is just, very powerful. Sticks is on their way to having servos just as sensitive and  _ they _ can take a joke. And then their partner, who's also a medic, Forceps, doesn't really like me that much, oh- Oh," he laughed, "that's... a mental picture I didn't think I'd ever see. Oho-"   
Salvo spent some time just laughing, optics focused on Red to make sure everything was still okay. He realized just how much he'd been talking. Not that it was conscious, nor did he expect a response. He definitely seemed to be picking up on Red's energy on some level. On top of that there was something steadying about it, too, didn't have to think too hard while talking up a storm. "Is- Am I talking too much? Am I ruining the mood? There's supposed to be a mood, right. That's what I heard," Salvo said, now working three fingers in circles around Red's palm, "It's funny I've gotten a lot of people hitting on me but I'm pretty sure I'm the least sexy mech alive- or, second least. Sticks gets that crown. then again, they've definitely done it before and are apparently getting the most spike of everyone currently but well, what do I know."

 

Red was listening. Sort of. Mostly, they were grinding into Salvo's frame, panting softly, their unoccupied servo pawing at his flank in what was meant to be a massage but was more like awkward petting. "Nngh,  _ like the talking _ ," they declared, squirming slightly, then groaned louder and grasped awkwardly at his servo. "Nngh- oh! Ah, Salvo, t-that- that's- ohh, like  _ that _ , please-"    
They were listening! Slightly. Mostly, they were enjoying, and it was very hard to focus on listening. But Salvo- Salvo wasn't exactly being sexy, they got that. It didn't make him any less- well, he was cute. The chatter was cute. That- that was the mood anyway, Salvo being chattery and not at all turned on.    
Red, meanwhile, was  _ very _ turned on. Enough that they'd tucked themself up close, legs clamped around Salvo's upper thigh, hips rocking in quick little thrusting motions. They had their face pushed into Salvo's neck, too, muffling their gasps and trills, their vents gusting hot air against his frame.    
Charge building from tactile-only overload was an odd thing when interface equipment wasn't involved. It tended to pool around the spark chamber instead of in the pelvic array, and was a bit more aimless, charge crackling out unexpectedly and jumping into Salvo's frame. Most interestingly, it jumped out into the point of contact- into their servo, setting it to tingling, and into the servo that was currently toying with Salvo's flank cabling. Hips bucking a bit harder, they trilled happily and curled in tight, frame tensing and trembling until-    
Charge with no clear outlet tended to just burst out in all directions, which is what Red's did as they overloaded. That and the general lack of fluids aside, it looked like a fairly typical overload, back arching and frame tensing in pleasure. Gasping softly, they bucked once against Salvo's frame, then panted, whimpered, and went limp, servos twitching fitfully against Salvo's frame. Ohh. Primus.

 

Salvo sat up quickly with a surprised gasp at the feeling of Red's charge skittering across the front of his frame. He looked at their servo, which he held loosely now that the activity seemed to be over. That was... an unexpected feeling. Definitely. His fingers kept twitching and his whole servo seemed to crawl with the memory of that energy. He could feel the spot where Red's other servo had held on was hot and was crawling as well. So that was it, huh. No interface needed. A kind of excited energy made of concentrated bewilderment snapped through his frame. He felt... good? A confused smile spread over his face, he couldn't help but giggle, "I don't... know... what I just felt but, that was  _ something. _ Deeply enlightening," he found his breath just wasn't there and since when was his spark going this fast?    
Salvo giggled again and brought Red's servo to his shoulder, leaving his own free. It was still trembling slightly, he noticed as he examined both of his servos at once. Didn't  _ look _ any different, but felt entirely so. He leaned forward a little, wrapping his arms around Red's back to stroke the plating he found, running his fingers up and down the seams almost without noticing, "I'm just, so giddy right now Red. What is going  _ on _ with my frame? You got any answers with your extensive not-medic knowledge?" Salvo paused and laughed a little more albeit sheepishly, "O-or maybe a better question to ask right now is, how are  _ you _ feeling? Was that, was it good?"

  
  


"Oooh, good," Red giggled, finding Salvo's mood slightly contagious, tucking their servos loosely up to their chassis as they slumped into Salvo's grip. Shuddering and trilling happily, they nuzzled into his frame and giggled helplessly for a moment, then lightly touched Salvo's flanks in a few different places. "Mm. That's... a slight increase in charge. Your frame may not know what to do with it, either due to sheer lack of experience or to having nowhere to focus. Is it- you- you seem to be-" they began, then, giggling very softly, began to rub at his sides with their fingertips. He wasn't turned on at  _ all _ , was he? Mildly interesting. "-was that nice for- for you?"    
A soft shudder, then a purr, and they hugged Salvo close. "Thank you. I'm- I'm sorry I- no, it's- ooh, goodness. Ohh. I-" a pause, then they sneezed rather loudly, jolting their frame, and pushed firmly at Salvo's chassis. "Down. Let- let me- do you- what were you- w-what-"    
A deep vent to gather themself up, and they turned their face up to Salvo, voice soft but steady. "I'm here. I'm- I'm good. You're... sweet. Want- want me to- anything? Pet, or-"   
They paused, blinking, and offered Salvo the tiniest smile. "Haven't talked this much in. Years. I almost feel..." a glance down at their servos, fingers flexing slightly, "pretty good.  _ Really _ good, right then. But I'm..." another deep vent, and they wiped away a stray tear, pressing tight to Salvo's frame. "...I think I'm okay right now."

 

\----   
If they'd known that by the afternoon they'd be aft-deep in trying to find a way around an unsolvable task, Spade wouldn't have woken up this morning. Their servos were gripped around the arm joint of the cleaner-bot, oiling its hinging mechanisms, while their processor was somewhere else entirely. "Could have it sort by size first but then it'd need to have an ongoing list of everything it comes across which defeats the  _ whole purpose _ of working without a memory chip," they muttered, testing the joint again, "fucking still could just attach weight sensors and call it a day but-" they shuddered, closing their optics in disgust, "no fucking tact, only brute force, it'll go forever, I'll never be able to work in this..."   
Spade looked around at the piles of boxes full of old datapads which sat underneath a new helping of junk -broken monitors, beaten up devices, an entire stack of dusty hard-drives. Their optics finally settled on one corner of the room filled with tiny miscellaneous pieces: washers, sensors, tiny lights, a few obscure tools. They could find anything in their room, roughly, save for that  _ one _ corner. These kinds of things wouldn't stay in neat towers and if they were kept in a drawer they would mix together into an unsightly mess. All they needed was someone else to organize the pieces for them so they wouldn't spend half an hour searching for just the right size of washer again- all it took was once. They looked again at the half-built cleaner bot and sighed.    
They needed a break.

 

With a little too much energy, Spade pushed themself off the ground, grabbed their personal datapad and stylus from their berth and set out of their room. They needed above all to clear their head, think of something other than impossible efficiency problems. Their steps were nearly silent as they aimlessly wandered through the ship's halls, the result of a mixture of biology and strict training. Due to their stature and quiet nature, they found themself frequently weaving among the long legs of bots going about their daily lives, completely unnoticed (not that they'd like to be noticed, of course, helped avoid wasting time with useless conversations). The activity of walking small and unnoticed, however, required a great deal of concentration and mental fortitude, after all one misstep and you're deeply injured or dead. Such concentration was not conducive to productive thought.   
Spade made their way through the bar, finding it too full for their liking, walked around a few different residence corridors, too much in and out, too much noise, they just wanted to  _ sit _ and- And what? And be out of their room. Dare they try drawing again? Drawing what. They abruptly stopped thinking to swerve around a large green leg. Alright this was getting ridiculous. They began to path around people, darting down the first empty corridor they saw for a while. It didn't take long for them to find themself entirely lost. Great.

Spade continued down the hall for a bit, walking truly aimlessly now there was nobody around until-  _ clang, clang clang _ that was, unmistakably the sound of ringing metal. They frowned and ventured toward the noise, eventually stopping in front of an open door, shimmering in the heat that radiated from the room it kept. They cocked their helm and peeked inside. Standing in silhouette of yellow-orange light was unmistakably Crucible.   
Well, one person wasn't too bad, it was warm inside, and the way the light touched the mech's frame made for an interesting study-Spade could already see the uniform lines curling into place around him. This'll do. They walked in, still silent, and clawed their way up onto a higher desk to perch and observe. They took out their datapad and stylus, curling their chassis close to see in the dim light. Yes, this'll do.

 

Crucible probably wouldn't have noticed a fistfight going on behind him, and he definitely didn't notice Spade coming in. He was occupied with, well- it wasn't much yet, he was still making the billet, but it was going to be a sword. Probably. Might lean towards being an axe eventually, but for now it wanted to be a heavy, single-edged sword, probably with a double-edged tip. Optics covered in the tinted third lids meant to protect him from the light, he skillfully folded the heated metal against his anvil and began to hammer again, doubling the layers in the metal. One of the advantages of his massive heat tolerance- this sort of thing was far easier for him than for most organic species, he could work the metal at much higher temperatures and fold it before it even began to harden. Too bad for the species who couldn't do this! Really, Crucible had to be careful not to heat the metal for too long, he didn't want to melt or burn it.

A pause to check the layers, then he shifted it to continue hammering, completely unaware of anything and everything happening around him.    
  
Soundwave didn't have enough of a map of the ship to know where the bridge was, nor was he in any mood to snoop around. He mostly wanted to rest, but he was curious, and he'd heard the hammering from a fairly considerable distance. It wasn't the most pleasant, and he dimmed his audials slightly as he got closer, but the heat was tempting and- ah! Now he knew where he was. This was Crucible's workshop. Now, he'd gotten a few stares but no significant remarks, and he didn't want to push his luck with encounters. So he slunk inside, scanning the room for threats, and found- a possibility, but nothing major. One bot, relatively small, likely not too much of a threat. Regardless, he kept an optic on Spade as he limped further into the room, moving over to one of the chairs that Crucible had placed here for such purposes. Evidently he liked an audience. Slumping into the soft (albeit singed) armchair, Soundwave cocked his helm to watch Crucible work, content to relax here and be comfortable.

 

Spade bristled as they saw Soundwave enter but said nothing. They were safe enough, back to the wall at their seat on the desk. If the mech, who, Spade noticed, was limping and half-bandaged from his entry last night, tried anything hopefully Crucible would turn around. At the very least there were many odd places to hide in here. They turned back to watch Crucible again. The repetitive motions of... whatever he was doing made for nice inspiration. It had taken quite a bit of impetus to actually rewire the datapad for color, not the least because they weren't exactly satisfied with how their black and white sketches turned out. But the urge was too great and now they diligently began to render Crucible's movement in shades of warm, dark brown, gold, and bright scarlet. Color, as opposed to line or form, was neutral. It was powerful but clean and clear-cut. Two colors next to each other had their own relationship which was unpredictable within an acceptable boundary. They felt their tension begin to ease away, their mind begin to clear, except... except...   
Spade turned to glare at Soundwave, the mech wasn't doing anything in particular but the shape of that bastard at the edge of their gaze was distracting, "Hey! Angles!"Spade shouted in Soundwave's direction, an irritated frown smearing across their face, "Your Decepticon stink is making it hard to work."

 

Crucible's heavy armor lifted slightly, and he slowly lifted his helm, blinking a few times as his concentration-haze faded away slightly. Oh. He had company, then? Turning slightly, he lowered his shoulder and looked over it at Soundwave, then to Spade. "Ah, hello. Uhm- people don't usually take requests phrased as insults," he noted, and paused for a moment longer, watching Soundwave.    
Soundwave lifted a servo slightly in greeting to Crucible, who he slightly liked, but completely ignored Spade. He'd been called much, much worse. Leaning back slightly (which, though he wouldn't realize it, put him out of Spade's field of view at this angle), he cocked his helm and looked Crucible up and down, content with the situation. Mostly. He would have appreciated less glaring.    
"I'm just working on a sword. You're welcome to watch, but I'm focusing, I probably won't hear anything you ask," Crucible declared, turning back to his work, and stuck the metal back into the forge again. Not his own forge- that wasn't active right now. Not big enough, not in his root mode, for this to be efficient. Instead, he was using a custom-built forge as big as his whole frame, its hot glow surrounding him in a halo of orange, its opening aimed slightly away from him to spare his optics. Once the metal was much hotter, as he needed it to be, he drew it back out with a pair of tongs and began to hammer it again. The anvil was another piece of furniture, slightly odd-shaped but perfectly flat on top, one he'd made himself. Not the neatest, but it was serviceable. And the hammer, well- that was all him for the first few blows, one of his servos transformed into a large sledgehammer, then he transformed it back into a servo to pick up a smaller hammer for slightly more delicate work.

  
  


"Scalene bitch," Spade mumbled, shaking their helm. At least he was out of their sight now, but the idea of him still being in the room set them on edge. They turned back to Crucible and continued the drawing. It was quickly turning into a painting, which Spade liked less and less by the second. Somewhere along the line they'd ruined it. Great. Bet it was the purple people eater's fault. They shook their helm again and cleared the file without saving. Their one solace, nothing remained of their artistic mistakes-no evidence left and they were  _ sure. _ When they looked up again and tried drawing something stopped them, it was gone, whatever it was that had made Crucible such a good subject. There was another thing siphoning their attention. No. Ugh. Really?   
Spade's propellers clattered together in irritation, their optics flitting to the Decepticon in the room. They were reasonably sure they could get a fairly good likeness. After all the mech was mostly straight lines anyway. Strange but... aesthetically pleasing proportions. They adjusted the grip on their stylus. They couldn't pass up the opportunity, especially when the mech was sitting so still. They hunched even further over their datapad, stealing glances every few seconds. A few minutes later and they'd managed a few quick, very minimalist gestures. Great, excellent, it was going splendidly,  _ Fuck. _ They were right, these were coming out pretty good and they hated it. Now thoroughly warmed up, they cleared the file again and began anew, working slower this time, using what they'd learned from the gestures. Maybe this time they'd have something worthy of saving.

  
  


Hm. Soundwave had never been insulted in a way involving the word "scalene". Creative! But Soundwave didn't respond, aside from filing away the recording of the insult. He'd rather focus on Crucible, on the steady shift of the stocky mech's shoulders and back as his arm rose and fell, on how the glowing metal on the anvil shifted. He didn't know much about forging like this, very few did, but he didn't need to know. It was much more pleasant to watch quietly and try to predict how the metal would be shifted than to focus on a bot who didn't seem inclined to do anything other than mildly insult him.    
Crucible continued until the metal was stretched into a long shape and just beginning to look like a sword, then set it aside to cool and stretched. Interesting to watch, his back plating sliding over itself as his shoulder mechanisms shifted. Arching his back to loosen himself up, he clicked his treads against his back, momentarily stretching the grasping arm usually wrapped around his waist like a belt, then turned around to study his guests more firmly. Spade, hm- Spade looked busy. Best not to interrupt. Soundwave looked... better than he had last night! Bandaged up, but awake and alert, still not moving. Typical for Soundwave, from what Crucible knew- no unnecessary motions. He wasn't bleeding visibly, didn't look panicked or even remotely stressed, just... sat and watched. It could have been creepy, but the firelight glinting off his visor and his plating cast what was, to Crucible, a friendly light, and he hardly seemed to be in any mood to threaten anyone.

 

As the ringing sound of hammer against hot steel died off, Spade took a pause. They'd... gotten lost in the rendering. They looked up and squinted in Crucible's direction. The glowing lump of metal was now significantly more sword-shaped... how did he...? Of course they'd miss it being distracted by Soundwave. They shook their helm and looked down again. The length of time had actually been spent well, that was a distinct rendering. A sweet little thought crossed their mind, nobody in espionage liked the idea of a candid image. They wondered if Soundwave had picked up on what they were doing. With a satisfied flick of their thumb, they saved the image into one of their protected folders, ejected the datacard and placed it neatly into a little compartment hidden in a hollow part of their arm plating. One of many.    
Spade turned to look at the mech, disdainful but self-satisfied look plastered over their face. They wondered if Soundwave remembered them. They'd been sure to scrub the database. They'd even changed as much of their paint as they could, though it was returning back to its original color-not that that was recorded during their time as a Decepticon either. They'd been exceedingly careful since day one. The allure of being a spy was nothing compared to their sense of self preservation. They knew going in that espionage was a deadly business and planned accordingly, always covering their tracks, always thinking ahead. It's not like they'd ever met him face-to-face either. Even their orders were passed down through a few different liaisons, never in Soundwave's own words, never directed to them by name.

Though, of course, there always was a chance something had slipped through. Spade had come to terms with the reality of data leakage the hard way. Nothing and nobody was perfect, not even they.   
It was with a delightfully smug aire that they hopped off the table, datapad in-servo, and went to go look at what Crucible had done, "I always liked swords, they have a certain way about them, much more... personal."

 

As Spade moved, Soundwave shifted his gaze behind his visor, watching them. They looked somewhat familiar. Someone very much like them was in a file  _ somewhere _ , but the firelight made it hard to get the best image of them. Still, he took a few snaps, to compare to his files later. He had too many faces to remember, even with his secondary processor. Had to focus on just the important ones. This bot wasn't ringing any bells in particular, therefore they probably weren't someone he really needed to recognize. Nor did they seem terribly threatening. Merely... dickish.

"-hm- oh, yes," Crucible muttered, turning to pick up the metal. This time, despite it still glowing red, he used his servos instead of the tongs, with no sign of any discomfort. He didn't have too many surface sensors anymore, and they'd always been heat-hardy sensors anyway. "I already have my hammers, but I need something more effective against the more heavily-armored feral Insecticons. They're surprisingly resistant to having their helms smashed in. This... does seem to want to be a sword, now. I thought it might be an axe at first, but it's definitely going towards sword," he mused, hefting the metal lightly in both servos, then glanced to Spade again. "Not that I think the metal is alive. It's just a... feeling of sorts. Specific pieces of metal seem to be more, ah, colloquially willing to go in different directions. That, and you have to be careful of faults. This is very good metal, no faults anywhere, should hold an edge well. I can tell you, though- the temps this stuff needs are high even for me," he chuckled, shifting his servos on the metal to give them an instant of a break from the temperature. Though he wasn't showing it, this arms-length piece of metal was right at the edge of what he could comfortably hold, almost too hot to touch. "A lot of the softer, more decorative metals would have turned to liquid by now. Don't, ah- don't touch any of this, it's all set up for me. I can take the heat. Anyway- this is a billet. A piece of metal that's all ready to shape, essentially. I have to get it out into a more blade-like shape, then harden the metal, then sharpen the edge. It's not a sword  _ yet _ , but it's a lot closer to being one than before."

He'd gone right into teaching mode, though he didn't quite notice it, and his voice was almost businesslike as he handled the metal. The length of metal was about as long as his arm at the moment, fairly wide, showing a point at the tip and the beginnings of where the handle would be. It still had to be flattened and shaped further, the edge formed, and the handle worked more into shape, but it looked something like a sword. "Heh. Right now it's more of a stick than a sword, though."

  
  


Spade nodded and watched with tempered interest- couldn't come off that excited. They got as close as they could to the heat, closer than the average bot might get. After all what was a forge to the desert in midday? (hotter but not by much). Looking the billet up and down they cocked their helm slightly, "Feral Insecticons, huh, always thought the best way to deal with em would be some kind of hooked thing- yank the armor so you could get to the good parts. Then, I suppose, slash. Though I'm not sure how close you wanna get to one, nasty bugs," they shrugged, "aaand what do I know, not that I could fight one."   
Spade looked around a bit. They wanted to see what Crucible was doing better but there were no chairs this close, not that they could reasonably use the chairs in there without being positively engulfed. There wasn't even a wall to lean on anywhere near enough. At last they spotted a relatively-tall looking chair they were reasonably sure they could perch from with no issues. Well, on second thought two issues exactly. The first was that the thing looked heavy, far too much for their own power and the second was that it was situated all-too-close to Decepticon posterboy. They weren't afraid of the mech, they just didn't like him. Despite their dislike, another bot would not stop them from getting what they wanted.   
With a huff, Spade walked with purpose over to the chair, grabbed the bottom and gave it a hard tug. The resulting loud, harsh screech was enough to make them heavily disinclined to try again. So be it. "Surprising, I think I hate that noise even more than I hate you," they said to nobody in particular save for Soundwave, climbing up into the seat. A hop to the arm and then a quick pull to the top of the back and they were sitting again, hunched forward. They subspaced their datapad and set to watching Crucible, their servos clasped together, thumbs already circling around each other. This, they admitted, was a much better view.

 

"Hm, that can work, but with enough strength you don't need to borrow moving the armor. Or- and this applies only to the feral ones, mind- they'll impale themselves rather handily if you give them the chance. You just have to be durable enough to put up with whatever parts of them can reach you at the end of their charge. I'm heavy and durable enough for resisting an Insecticon charge to be an option if I- oh, you're moving," Crucible noticed, and leaned over the anvil slightly in order to stretch further, shifting everything around after too long staying in one place.    
Soundwave twitched slightly at the terrible noise and aimed a glare down at the chair feet, then turned his attention back to Crucible. Who was bent over the anvil in what could have been a rather tempting pose, if he'd been to Soundwave's taste. Somehow didn't seem to notice, either. Feeling vaguely playful, he played a recording of someone wolf-whistling, cocking his helm in mimicry of a wink when Crucible turned to look.    
"Oh- yes, yes, thank you," Crucible muttered, winglets quirking up, but didn't cut off his stretching at a little teasing. Accidental suggestiveness or not. "Hush, you, I'm  _ stretching _ . Do you want me to snap something, hm? Sassy thing. Surprisingly smart-aft for someone so  _ lanky _ . Don't have much aft to be smart with," he replied, and picked up the metal again, looking it over before sticking it in the forge. "You're just making faces at everyone from back there, aren't you? What'd you do to Spade, anyway?"    
Soundwave glanced at Spade, then rolled his shoulder in a shrug, turning his attention away from the smaller bot. Nothing, that he knew of. Maybe he'd killed someone Spade liked. He'd killed, or been responsible for the deaths of, a lot of people. Pit- he'd been chased after by someone who'd taken over the role, appearance, and even personality of someone he'd killed. Weird. Considerably weirder than being called geometry-related insults.

 

pade scoffed, "what self-respecting  _ Autobot _ would play nice with the Decepticon third? A better question is what  _ didn't _ he do to me." It only occurred to them afterward they weren't wearing their autobrand. Not that it was something they wore all the time, they didn't have Salvo's dedication, for reasons they kept to themself. It was a special occasions thing, a 'I'm seeing a lot of people and need to give a certain impression' thing. It was definitely not a 'put on before leaving the room in a great fuss just to keep up appearances' thing. So they were a bit of a hypocrite. Most of the statement was a lie anyway. They were fairly sure the ship was mostly Autobots anyway and was friendly enough to entertain the mech. Plus, they didn't really have the energy to hate anything anymore, all of it was spent currently on self-preservation. They were much too tired, but in deference to their old self, they couldn't pass up the opportunity to smack talk their old boss to his face.    
The latter part was true, though, Spade thought. He hadn't done anything and that was the problem. There was nothing personal in the world of espionage, except when it came to upwards of fifty received extradition requests that went unanswered. How impersonal could it be when you realized that you were so completely worthless to the cause that you weren't ever going to be retrieved? How impersonal were their ignored reports of Trail's suspicious activity? Course it didn't matter until he acted. Soundwave had done nothing, as far as they knew he'd simply trashed their requests and focused on more important players. Not that they probably wouldn't have done the same thing in the same situation. Nothing personal, until it's about you.    
Spade glared down at Soundwave again for good measure, this time with feeling.

 

"An Autobot who never disagreed with the Decepticon ideals, just the methods. Or one who doesn't think Soundwave in particular is a bad person. Or one who's willing to forgive everything short of sparkling murder in the interest of peace. Possibly some combination thereof," Crucible shrugged, and turned slightly, presenting his shoulder to Spade. He had a badge, but not an Autobot one- something entirely different. A very stylized hammer which, though he wouldn't have known, somewhat resembled some Norse designs. "Look- I'm not gonna tell you how to feel. But this ship- we want peace. We want a chance at rebuilding Cybertron, and doing it properly this time, without the things that rotted it in the first place. Soundwave... he agrees. He's helped us out with a lot of things. Besides that, he is... pragmatic. He's not cruel. I can forgive a certain degree of ruthless pragmatism when there's no malice involved. You are quite welcome to dislike him all you want, and call him... assorted creative things. But I do ask that you refrain from outright threats or outright violence. Especially given that he's not just a guest, but an  _ injured _ guest. And a carrier at that," he commented, voice soft, turning back to his work. Evidently not realizing he'd spilled a bit of a secret. He was deep in creativity mode, voice stuck in teacher-tone, quiet and relaxed. Not really thinking about what was and wasn't supposed to be kept quiet.(edited)

Soundwave hid any outward reaction, but glared at Crucible from behind his visor, somewhat annoyed. He hadn't been meaning to share a potential vulnerability. But... that was Crucible. He talked when he was in this headspace, and sometimes he talked a bit too much. Occasional bits of gossips about people's interface lives, mostly. And, at the moment, Soundwave had more visible vulnerabilities than "especially does not want to be kicked in the stomach now". A more effective tactic than targeting his stomach, which he could easily guard, would be to go at his injured back and leg.    
In fact... Soundwave was starting to like the idea of spreading this patch of information intentionally. Watch for responses. He no longer intended to even remotely keep up the ploy of Laserbeak being a drone that had worked in some areas- she was a person and would be treated as such whenever he had a say in it. And he had many says in it. Besides, it was going to be obvious soon enough that he'd been carrying. Namely, when he was no longer carrying and was instead wrangling a young symbiote. The ship might be, in fact, a good place to stay for a little while. Safety in numbers.   
In the meantime, thoughts from Spade? Soundwave turned his helm slightly, full-on staring at Spade now, and let his bio-lights flicker the slightest bit. Not a friendly or unfriendly gesture, just a gesture.

 

Spade managed an amused side-glance at Soundwave, " _ Carrying _ huh? Did Megatron have anything to do with it? I'd say it'd have to be Starscream's if I weren't reasonably certain he'd be dead of stupidity by now."    
They'd never admit it but there was something distressing about being looked at directly, especially by someone like Soundwave. Spade lived under-pede, worked on the periphery, existed unseen. Nobody was  _ supposed _ to look directly at a surveillance drone for this long.  _ They _ were supposed to be the one looking. What compounded the horrible feeling was the fact they'd chosen to meet his attention with their own. They held their gaze for as long as was socially appropriate and scoffed, shaking their head as they returned to watching Crucible. Their field stayed consistent the entire time, a result of too many hours of training. They knew their tells: a slight flicker of the optics and a vocal tremor. The optics they couldn't do much for, save for blinking and that was an even bigger tell. Lucky for them, though, they didn't have to speak. They just hunched over, putting their elbows on their thighs and grinned as they waited for their frame to calm down.    
A few silent moments passed and they let out a knowing hum, "Suppose it could be Shockwave's too, I'd bet that ugly bastard is still kicking. He's your type too, yanno, purple. Should start up a betting pool or something."

  
  


Soundwave scoffed audibly, vaguely insulted, and lit up his visor in large enough letters for Spade to easily read. [ _ Interface with Starscream: high probability of audial damage, claw gashes, general annoyance. _ ]    
Really- Starscream? Ugh. Any physical attractiveness he might have had going for him was outweighed by that  _ voice _ , and by a personality that made Soundwave want to lock him out of everywhere. Megatron- hm. Not like he hadn't considered it. Shockwave... hm. Frame wasn't bad, personality was... almost nonexistent, but not objectionable. There were worse bots to proposition. But, really- 'purple' was not his type. He did not have a fetish for the Decepticon cause, thank you. He'd known a bot or two who  _ did _ , but he did not.

Now... the lack of realization about... hm. It still surprised him that people didn't seem to register he was a symbiote host. Or... maybe it was because they didn't know how symbiotes were made. Regardless, Soundwave kept his gaze on Spade for a little while longer, then, slowly, turned his helm away. Okay. Spade didn't like being watched. Spade moved like a  _ spy _ . Spies in particular did not like being watched. Continuing to stare, to hold the smaller bot trapped in his gaze, was a gesture of power. Releasing Spade was... not quite submission, but it was a deliberate gesture that he wasn't trying to be in power here. Let the spy be a spy, make it a gesture of peace. Contemplate which side this spy could have been on. Was he angry about one of Soundwave's counterintelligence measures, or had he not gotten the support he wanted? Soundwave had tried to be good to his spies, but there was a limit to what he could do to protect them, especially the ones he was barely aware of. There was a war on- he'd had to be pragmatic. He'd have to consult his files later and figure out who this was.    
So, hm. Soundwave watched Spade out of the edge of his optic, careful not to look as though he were watching, and thought for a moment longer. Moving slowly, he reached into subspace and withdrew a data-pad, on which was an updated map of the galaxy as he currently knew it. Including Cybertronian outposts, with notes on inhabitants and what was or wasn't safe. Grasping the data-pad firmly in one cable, he extended it out to Spade, dropping it on the chair in easy reach, then withdrew. Still not looking at Spade.    
Consider that, and the lack of staring, a peace offering. Spies liked information -really, anyone did- and that was information. He kept multiple copies of this to give to different people.

  
  


That continued look... that was certainly deliberate. He must've figured out then, Spade thought, having spotted Soundwave's helm finally turning away. They weren't too surprised, difficult to hide when someone who's looking for tells finds none, and Soundwave should know his own. It was only a matter of time until he figured out who they were, then. Knowing what they'd heard of the mech, he'd consult his database, the one they'd been so eager to help maintain, and the one they'd erased their profile from. Good luck, boss- ex boss.   
Spade's attention broke when they heard the gentle  _ fwump _ of the datapad on the chair cushion. They looked down, then looked back at Soundwave, then looked down again. A gift, they didn't expect. That was... hmm. They climbed down and grabbed the pad, the slightest twitch of a frown crossed their face for an instant. It was a map. It was... a very good map at that. Normally they would be thrilled, and they were excited, partially. It was hard to deny what you were built for. However, it was almost alarming, the casual invocation of their constructed skill, almost  _ threatening. _ So then, Soundwave knew exactly who they were. That was fast.

Yet he still offered them this. Something they liked on a personal level, regardless of their Decepticon record. That was definitely something. They poured over the map, leaning to sit down after a few moments standing. They remember following their dropship's course. They'd passed a few notable star systems which were... they scrolled around the map a bit, eventually getting their bearings. Yes, there. Follow those down, zoom in, zoom in and... There it was. A tiny twin- star in an otherwise barren part of the galaxy, Exolus. They zoomed in further. There was their planet, third in line from the dominant star. They hummed slightly, they'd seen their observation of Exolus-3's moon had gone through. But it seemed they'd forgotten to update the database with the information that the system had, in fact, five planetoids and two returning comets. That they'd found with Aphelion's help.   
Spade cleared their throat and tilted the datapad in Soundwave's direction, "Your map's incomplete. There are five planets in this system, not just three. It may also be worth noting there are two comets in regular orbits around the twin stars." Their voice was toned down, more polite than before. It was only customary to offer information in exchange.

 

It had worked. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing someone take his- well, it wasn't  _ bait _ , in this case, but the principle stood. He had come up with something that would likely be of interest, and it had been.    
Soundwave had never been what one would call charismatic, but he had figured out a reasonable formula for getting someone to, at least, dislike him less. First, adopt a neutral position, with minimal staring. Watch, helm tilted enough to make it clear that he could see, but no staring. Second, peace offering. Gifts of maps seemed to work particularly well, everyone liked to know where they were. Third, attempt to at least slightly interact. Social beings in general tended to dislike someone less after neutral-to-positive interactions.    
Spade responding back was the beginning of an interaction. Excellent. Soundwave moved his helm very slightly, enough to clearly see Spade without looking like he was full-on staring, and considered the 'pad for a moment before nodding once. [ _ Noted. More data required. Make edits, initiate data transfer. Edits: will appear on master console. Soundwave: will confirm, update all maps. Accurate data: vital. _ ]

Well. If that wasn't a backwater system, he didn't know what was. But that narrowed down who this could be considerably. A spy, stationed on Exolus. That... that was something he could work with. Giving in to his curiosity, Soundwave spent the energy needed to remotely access his databanks, letting himself go through his systems. His  _ private _ databanks. The ones with the blackmail material and the data on every spy and spy-adjacent he knew of. Those, nobody touched, or even knew about. He had other things, too- everything from classified data on weaknesses of Decepticon powerhouses to exploit if they ever became an issue, to. Well. Nostalgic files. Old footage of Megatronus and Orion Pax. A few of Optimus Prime's speeches, to enjoy his voice. Footage of Soundwave's symbiotes.  _ No one _ touched his private databanks.    
Specifically because of things like  _ this _ . With the planet name input, it was easy enough to figure out exactly who he was interacting with. And to confirm that this bot was  _ not _ in his main files. Clever. But... not quite clever enough.    
Who kept only one copy of their data on spies, and let other spies access it? Dead mechs, that was who.    
Helm cocking and mischief glinting through his field for an instant, Soundwave pulled up an old image of Spade on his visor, typing [found you] across it. Then, after a moment for Spade to register that, scrolling down slightly. To the point where it said, in very large letters, "contact lost. presumed dead or defected."    
Evidently, defected. Or he was talking to a hallucination, but Crucible had responded to Spade as well, so that was unlikely.

 

Spade shook their helm and let their optics flick to Crucible. They hadn't been looking at him, it would have been less than ideal if he'd seen. Secrets don't exactly stay secrets forever but that doesn't mean one shouldn't try. He seemed to be just working at this point but... one could never be too sure. They returned their gaze to the datapad and with one servo added in the additional information and with the other began to sign, a kind of shorthand,  _ "Keep to yourself." _ Once finished signing they spoke, "There was a pretty-involved campaign on that one planet, but it turned out it had no strategic advantage so it was abandoned. Love it when the Autobots and Decepticons decide to compare spike sizes and then run. We seemed to come out on top though." They smirked, not Autobots 'we,' not Decepticons 'we,' the Choir 'we,' not that they'd elaborate, "I don't think anyone bothered to look at the area beforehand, either, which is why almost everybody died. It was a massive failure on both sides, so much so they seem to have forgotten it."

Spade moved their servo away to check their work. There were added notes of the two other planets, approximations of where the comets would be, and something else. They added a small description to the sand planet, describing it slightly with warnings about the planet's electromagnetic field and hostile native population. Underneath all that was a short memorial of sorts:  _ The site of the unknown campaign of Exolus-3. May those thousands who perished there, forgotten, find peace. _ They sighed deeply and brought up the datapad's internal console to submit it to whatever remote server it was getting its information from. They weren't sentimental, not as much as some of their friends, but they'd seen too many mangled frames, too many partial faces they'd tried to reconstruct to keep the database updated. How many mechs died completely unknown to their comrades, they could never say. This was the least they could do.   
A few minutes of wrangling security protocols and Spade had done it, possibly not the way Soundwave intended but done all the same. Now that both their servos were free, they glanced back at Crucible to make sure he wasn't looking and began to sign again in earnest,  _ "I didn't appreciate being abandoned." _

  
  


Soundwave didn't even need to look over at Crucible. He could hear the steady pounding of the hammer, Crucible was busy. He was focusing too much to even think of spying. Not that he was prone to snooping anyway.    
A quick check to be sure Spade hadn't put anything ridiculous in, then Soundwave let the data through. He'd go over that later, and if it made sense with the other data he had (which was likely- his file listed that this bot was a mapmaker, they didn't like to lie about maps), he'd upload it to all the currently active maps. And, just in case, the map server was isolated from everything else. It was remotely connected to all the other maps, but none of his other data, in case someone tried to use one of the maps as a way in to hack something. The worst they could do was scramble the map data, in which case he'd simply update it again from a backup. Isolate everything from everything else, connected only by any physical interactions. Couldn't hack everything else if the only connection between the map console and his main systems was him, typing.

As for this disaster? That wasn't on him. He hadn't been responsible for literally every operation, even the ones with spies- they'd had tacticians for that. As for Spade, Soundwave highlighted and flickered the "presumed dead or defected" again, an answer in and of itself. The Decepticon cause wouldn't survive chasing down and checking on everyone who went out of contact, especially on planets with massive death tolls. It wasn't exactly one of his favorite parts of his job, marking off Decepticon spies as presumed lost because they'd gone out of contact, but what else was he supposed to do? Soundwave shook his helm slightly, turning to fully face Spade and display his visor again. People didn't tend to read it so much as staring if they were looking at something, instead of having the blank visor fixed on them. [ _ Abandonment: not ideal. Only practical option. Spade: assumed dead or not wanting to be recovered. Attempted recovery of body, pursuit of defector: waste of resources, time. Too dangerous, given death reports. Apologies. Question; Spade: would have preferred self and team be located by Decepticon soldiers, with soldiers given warning of possible defection? _ ]   
A potentially defected spy, surrounded by a ragtag band of Autobots? Not someone any sort of Decepticon soldier would be inclined to treat gently.    
Not that Soundwave exactly knew the timeline of things.

 

A flicker of annoyance passed through Spade's optics. They briefly closed their servo into a fist but let it go quick enough. They grit their dentae behind their faceplate and continued,  _ "Sixty-four extraction requests. I sent sixty-four over the course of three years. Thirteen reports of suspicious handler activity, all ignored. I didn't defect for those, no. I even kept providing location data, even when the Decepticons attacks stopped. I kept doing my fucking job because I thought I meant something. And then my handler tried to kill me. Almost succeeded too." _ They paused, a hint of anger breaking through their impenetrable wall of a field. They shook their helm, closing their optics and taking a deep breath before they continued,  _ "You know who pulled for me? The Autobots -the ones I was routinely laying open for attack, the ones who I had a significant hand in sending to their doom- they caught him and get this- they didn't kill him. They disarmed him and exiled him and set watch while I recovered so he couldn't come back and finish the job. How's that for loyalty?" _   
Spade sighed and leaned back in their seat,  _ "I didn't defect until Trail did that, not that it matters anymore. There's nothing to be done. You can't change the past and I can't blame you for prioritizing the more important fronts. The only reason I'm telling you all this is cause when I was lying in the berth, recovering from a stab wound that was a fingertip's width away from slicing my spark in two, I told myself if I ever got the chance to do so in person I'd tell you to go fuck yourself." _

  
  


Soundwave's optics narrowed behind his visor, because  _ that _ didn't make sense. If he had to leave one of his operatives on their own, he told them that. Warned them that, for whatever reason, he couldn't grant their request. Told them where the nearest safe place was they could go to, if they got out on their own. After all, they risked everything for him and the Cause, and he was  _ pragmatic _ . Not sparkless. So he listened, but he worked at the same time, sorting through the reports in Spade's file.    
By the time Spade finished, Soundwave had his answer. A slight duck of his helm and a quiet recording of "acknowledged", then his visor lit up again, showing the list. Location data, yes. Extraction requests, handler reports,  _ no _ . And, though he didn't know, there were a few miscellaneous reports missing. Probably from assorted signal interference. [ _ File: contains every received report. Trail: intelligent. Thorough. Soundwave: would have responded. Considered extraction. If extraction: impossible, would have sent warning. Pragmatism: does not entirely banish loyalty. _ ]   
A moment's pause, then [ _ Animosity: noted. Accepted. _ ]   
Hm. He probably wouldn't be able to get Spade to like him, then. Tolerance seemed to be a possibility, though. He could work with annoyed tolerance. It wasn't dangerous, after all. Spade could be pissed at him all they wanted, but he did at least want to be  _ clear _ about what had happened, and that he hadn't intentionally abandoned Spade. He would much rather at least have warned Spade that they were on their own.

 

Spade's optics widened considerably. They hadn't considered the possibility Trail had been intercepting their messages. They'd been very careful to do it when he was asleep, outside on the rare clear nights. It never occurred to them that the mech could have messed with their private transmitter at some point completely unbeknownst to them. He'd always seemed too hot-headed, too easily readable for that level of trickery. They thought they knew Trail. Then again, he was a spy. Clearly then, a much better spy than they were if that were the case. There was also the possibility Soundwave was lying, that he had received the messages and simply deleted them, choosing not to care about a small player on a remote failure of a planet. It certainly wouldn't be very hard, face behind a mask, no voice, no field. They didn't know which version of the story they preferred.    
When Spade had imagined this exact confrontation in the hundreds of years that passed marooned on a hell planet with a bunch of people they'd personally hurt, it didn't go this way. Soundwave was violent, yelling at them, or they were violent, pulling the blade that almost took their life from its holster in the back of their leg and stabbing it through his hand or his helm. They usually won in their imagination, it was satisfying. It... was never like this. He seemed entirely unfazed by their presence, not angry, and... almost apologetic, almost. And here they were communicating through sign because they weren't even alone in the room with him.

Spade looked away, tapping their forehelm softly, they had a lot to think about. They looked back to address Soundwave again,  _ "I don't know what I expected. There's no way to confirm your story and I don't know if I'm inclined to believe you without proof." _ They didn't want to think about the alternative: having to search through their frame for some foreign transmission blocker that was placed there multiple millennia ago that they didn't know existed. Worse-case scenario it was somewhere in their processor next to their relay to the Decepticon spy database. Who knows what else Trail might have done to them if he had gotten that far? Their entire frame may be suspect.    
"This was a mistake," they said out loud at last.

  
  


Soundwave was  _ definitely _ winning this encounter. He didn't need Spade to believe him- all the information he had was out, after all. Now... what were those emotions? Making sure he was recording this for later study, he shifted so that his entire frame faced Spade, starting to lean forward over the arm of the chair. It was a very comfortable chair, but he was  _ curious _ . More than that, this was a safe place, he could be free to be curious. So far, Spade hadn't been anything like threatening to him. Pissed off, understandably, but not violent. So... time to investigate further.    
Crucible registered something about a mistake, and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see, well. Soundwave, perched carefully on the arm of the chair like an intrigued cat, as close to Spade as he could get without touching the floor or being precarious. "Oh- goodness. He's done that again, I see. Soundwave is an interesting one, isn't he? He relaxes a bit on the ship, since none of us are about to do anything unpleasant to him, and he actually starts getting expressive. And perching in strange places. It's like having a cat! A potentially... very deadly cat. Who brings you maps and information instead of mice. Anyway, it looks like the two of you are getting along reasonably well, hm? Good!"    
Soundwave watched as Crucible went back to his work, not quite sure how he felt about being referred to as a cat, and eventually decided that it was probably good. Crucible definitely liked him. Granted, Crucible liked most people. Regardless of what he was being called, Soundwave wasn't deterred- he was going to perch right here, watch Spade, and try to figure out what their emotions were doing. And maybe prompt a response from them.   
A soft chattering noise, and Laserbeak popped off of Soundwave's chassis to fly away, surveying the whole room in a couple of quick loops before going to perch on a cabinet. She'd leave Soundwave to his inspection, and whatever else he wanted to do.

 

Spade stood up as Soundwave moved forward but did not back away. They were optic-level with the mech's visor. Adrenaline doused their frame as they were once again presented with the challenge of direct observation. Their thoughts were a blur, assembling a plan with lightning speed. They  _ could _ test whether their comms to the spy database were being intercepted. They'd need to be quick, with perfect timing, and enough daring to pull it off. It was only a matter of survival after all was said and done, though in the case that their test proved wrong, they didn't think they minded mortality.   
They began with a casual observation, giving Soundwave a look, "Catlike indeed." Then they did something they didn't think they would do again. Raising their left arm close to their chassis, palm facing towards them, they drew their thumb and middle finger of their right servo from the outside of their elbow up through their wrist. They could feel a slight static of their relay chip coming online again for the first time in centuries, activated by the specific sensory input of the gesture. Their optics flickered a bit as they made the connection to the database. It would be easily spottable from Soundwave's distance and likely something he could parse, this was amenable. Their frame was perfectly still as they composed the message, even forgoing the standard cipher, "[I am armed. I will kill your sparkling]." Short, sweet, should provoke a reaction. They sent it, waiting for the message received ping. As it arrived, they let their arms fall down to their sides and opened another connection, this time to the address of the map server they'd used before. It took a bit of time before they properly got in. They composed a different message this time, ensuring that the protocols allowed it to be read automatically "[I will strike at your throat. I intend no harm. Do not flinch]"

One command, one command on a hair's trigger Spade could send. They set a timer instead, delivering the message after a certain time. One and a half seconds? Should be enough time to account for latency.    
In a lightning-fast, fluid motion, they executed the code and kicked back their pede. A sizeable dagger jumped, spring-loaded out of their lower leg, landing hilt-first directly in their servo. They took a step forward and lunged directly for Soundwave's throat, the point of the dagger several harmless inches away. As they got to full extension, they felt the ping of a 'message sent' notification.

 

Hm. Spade was- comming someone, perhaps, or- given the situation, probably checking to see if there was anything in the way. Given the data, Soundwave expected it might be a reroute function, or might simply be set up to intercept messages with certain keywords. That would make the most sense, seeing as how it looked like he'd been getting the non-extraction-request messages for some t-   
There was definitely a response. Tiny, but present- every cable in Soundwave's body tensed a fraction, and his bio-lights, formerly a reasonable brightness that indicated a casual interaction, shut off entirely. The bright spot over his chassis went dark, and did not light again, regardless of the additional message. That was a  _ threat _ . A confusing threat. Was Soundwave's visible interest really enough to make Spade-

He had no idea what was happening here. Soundwave didn't like not knowing what was happening. Moreover, he didn't trust Spade with something like  _ this _ . A controlled adrenaline response sent his processor speed skyrocketing, and Soundwave was already moving as the dagger came out, entire frame shifting backwards. He knew how far Spade could reach. One arm came up, and, in the same motion, both cables lashed out lightning-fast. The tip of the dagger glanced off a suddenly extended blade, and his cables wrapped tight around Spade's frame, especially around their upper body and shoulders, locking their arms firmly in place.    
Spade was small. Easily lifted. Soundwave squeezed warningly, making his strength known, then lifted Spade slightly, held them firmly, and continued to stare. A threat, the most dire threat anyone could make against him, followed by simultaneous reassurance and attack. Possibly a fake attack, but- the  _ threat _ . Had it been against him, Soundwave might have been inclined to simply put himself out of easy reach. The threat to his sparkling meant he wasn't going to let Spade loose until he figured out what was going on.

Really- did Spade expect Soundwave to hold still and let a near-stranger stab at him? Holding the smaller bot firmly but not tightly enough to cause any damage, he locked their arm more firmly in place and set about prying their fingers away from the dagger with his clawtips, pulling up both messages on his visor. Specifically, with [ _ EXPLAIN _ ] flashing over them. Was it meant to be a threat, or not? There were easier ways to check for message blocking than  _ this _ . He could have killed them! One cable was already wrapped once around their throat, his combined cables had more than enough strength to crush Spade's frame, or a quick plunge of his blade into Spade's chassis would do the trick. Far before Crucible could interfere. Besides- all he'd have to do was show the threat to his sparkling. It was  _ more _ than self-defense, wasn't it, if that was presented without context?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ARCHIVED TO: 12/8/18

"How about something sweet?" Bowline said, leaning down a little closer to get a look at the datapads, not that she could read much of the text, too small and too far away, "Something without destroyed vehicles, if possible. Do you have any recommendations, Notepad?"  
Draft let out a short sigh, turning slightly to look at Bowline out of the corner of his optic in a small measure of thanks. He shifted his elbow to rest on the couch's arm and crossed his legs, stroking the side of his face with an absentminded finger. He'd found himself doing a lot of pondering lately about the nature of things, about the future. He was among the minority in the Choir who was comfortable by himself, with his own mind. He found himself yet again slipping into his usual meditative mood. Being a relative latecomer in the Choir meant he'd never been privy to the others' rehabilitation efforts, save for what they'd done for him. He wondered if Red would like him once they found out what he'd done. Not that he'd enjoyed the things he did but... it hadn't exactly been involuntary. He'd been able to justify his continued existence by using the strength he'd used to hurt people to protect those who saved him. The Choir knew, and his protection was worth something for redemption because he acted on it, he did it. But there was no way to prove himself to Red, not when there was none of the threats from before to protect them from. To them, possibly he'd always be the vicious brawler he had been. If they knew... If they knew.  
Sticks sighed, pulling a few from the stack to look through, .:Could go for a rom-com right about now:. "No sign for... that right?" They picked one up and squinted at the description, turning it over. They didn't recognize the species on the cover. They turned it around, trying to make sense of it then set it down, "Where did these come from?"  
.  
Salvo's posture straightened up abruptly at the attention, "H-hey ooh," his plating flared a bit, "oh that's. That's good. You're good at that. Um, that's a good question. I got clipped once on the side of the head and it doesn't hurt now but I think you could probably do some magic on it. But- actually now that I'm thinkin about it there's something you should know... about me." He turned around to face Red and caught one of their servos. Adjusting his grip so it was on their wrist instead (Sticks's constant reminders were working at last), he brought it over to one side of his chassis, in the area under his arm and let it stay there, making sure their fingers were touching what was set there, "These?" he pulled Red's servo down to show there were multiple, "Live rounds. Same on the other side. They've got energon in em and an ignition cap and everything. Nothing to be worried about, I've lived with em for a long time, but since we're going to be pretty physical, it's important to tell you. Just don't... slap them too hard, heat em up, drill into em, anything like that I dunno."   
Salvo released Red's servo and held still for a moment, "Not that I think you'd do that but. I am a gun- my alt's a gun. There are some risks that come with existing this way. I've got some empty shells that just- well," he reached around back and caught one of his trailing shell-holders. The empty shells clattering against his back plating as he brought it up front to touch to Red's forearm, "Like this. They're harmless, got an ignition cap in em but the worst that'll do is make some sparks. Don't have to worry about em. Nothing to be worried about- just. I forget sometimes people don't know -and they should. The ship's peaceful, shouldn't be... having weapons around."

Notepad flipped through a few more 'pads, then picked one out and turned it over to show them the title screen. "This looks nice. It's an animated film of a fictional organic species. Let's see- no major violence, no vehicle destruction, sounds good- oh, 'organic nudity', though. Two members of a pack are separated from the group, have adventures, and fall for each other while finding their way back. Sounds cute, and it's- let's see, Patches would have checked this over for content- ah, yes, he's put notes in here. Definitely cute. All right- let me just get the remote," they muttered, stretching over to get the controller, and set about bringing the movie up. "All the movies we have in public areas have been screened by someone, usually someone on the ship, to put content warnings on them. Helps avoid people being triggered, or just plain upset. Or accidentally watching something that does not fit the mood. This should be- Patches says it's a good 'soft film', so this should be good!"   
Forceps wasn't one for movies, not really, but they did want to keep an optic on Sticks. Bowline and Draft might also benefit from some brief observation. "No sign for that. These are from opportunistic traders, Cybertronian and not. Also, organic friends. Ship managed to be helpful in enough places that a few organic species think of us as something less sinister than genocidal murder machines. Blackspark in particular has friends, but most organics still do not like Cybertronians. Understandable."  
.  
Red contemplated the shells for a few moments, rubbing individual shells between their fingertips in contemplation, and nodded slightly in understanding. "Noted. Could remove these later. Or remove the majority- decrease the intensity of any potential explosions," they suggested, lingering for longer against the empty ones, then trailed their fingertips up the length of the shell-holder. "Almost vampiric, these. To be loaded off your blood. I..." very soft, contemplative, nearly sad but not quite, "treated a patient with a... similar? No. With your exact frame design. Too pumped up on adrenaline to know when to stop. Fired off shells until they were functionally exsanguinated. Survived it, barely, with transfusions. Try not to do that."   
Losing interest in the textures and shapes of Salvo's shell-holders, they ran their fingertips up his back instead, feeling things out, until they found the old marks. "Show me where the bench is?" they suggested, quietly, and began to massage the back of Salvo's neck. Long, slow rubs, even and soothing, mixed with firm circling motions with both thumbs. Start out easy, work their way up under the edge of the plating, get Salvo relaxed slightly and then majorly focus on the scars. They were content with the rinsing they got from the water, they'd rather focus on Salvo. And Salvo's enjoyment. "If it hurts, tell me. But... sit. Last time I did something like this, their knees buckled. Had to work on them all over again after they got off the floor. Show me... what you want, here and otherwise. I don't need my optics. It feels..." they whispered, nudging their face into the back of Salvo's helm, "almost normal. Never... used my optics for this sort of thing before. Not that I had many chances for this. Shame. I enjoy it. Feels... good. Hard to corrupt."

 

"Organic nudity should be fascinating actually," Bowline said, leaning a bit further over the couch, "Draft?"  
"No complaints," Draft said quickly.  
Sticks sat up a bit to say something but waved their servo and sat back. As much as announcing they were psyched for organic nudity (which was only slightly true) appealed to them, verbally, it wasn't going to happen. As soon as the film began to roll, Draft and Bowline quieted down. Draft took the opportunity simply to look at something while thinking of other things, however vaguely paying attention to the plot as much as he would deny it. Bowline, lacking anything productive to do save for being present for those there, put both arms up on the back of the couch, leaned forward, rested the bottom of her helm on her servos, and watched the film in earnest. Every so often the room could hear the sound of her helm moving slightly in judgement of what was onscreen.  
"Understandable" Sticks mirrored and sat back slightly, gazing at the screen with increasingly tired optics. They slowly lifted their arm to wrap around Forceps's shoulder, tugging on them to come closer. At last, the chance to be doing something relatively frivolous after the events of the past hours. It felt good.  
.  
"As... as it should be," Salvo smiled slightly and led them to the shower bench, seating them before dropping to the floor. He silently guided their servos to the spot on his helm, a tapered, finger-thick line stretching from behind the right corner of his visor to most of the way back from his face. It was a different texture than the metal around it, and held heat in a way completely unlike metal, though thoroughly covered by nanites. Visually it was almost indistinguishable from the rest of his helm but tactically it wasn't difficult to tell it was filled in by an entirely non-metallic substance. He sat for a moment, all-to-quietly, as a kind of tempered melancholy slunk into his field.   
"That happened to me, too, yanno," Salvo said at last, he sounded... tired, almost sad, "Except it wasn't my fault. I was in alt mode and this- this maniac with garbage aim wouldn't stop. Didn't care of course. Nobody sheds tears for an MTO. It... it sucked." He shook his head with a quick in-vent, "Not fun to be this way but... I can't shake the feeling the fightin's gonna start up again. It could at any second. If I was completely disarmed I'd be entirely defenseless." Salvo sighed and leaned a bit further back into Red's servos, "probably a bit more grim than you signed up for, huh."

 

Notepad sat back with their legs crossed, perfectly happy with this situation, and scooted a bit closer to everyone else after a moment. This movie was cute! The plot wasn't exactly complicated, but the characters, little creatures that (though they wouldn't have known) rather resembled blue, bioluminescent jackalopes, were sweet and engaging. Clever little things, too! Lots of interesting solutions to problems. And a very, very cute scene of mutual grooming.   
Not really Forceps' taste, but the opportunity to curl up next to Sticks was nice, and at least the movie wasn't annoying. Mostly, it was Sticks they were interested in. The... quiet, stable lifesigns. Curling in slightly, they put an arm around Sticks' frame in return, low on their frame, fingertips resting against their chassis plating.   
.  
"Understandable. Probably written into your genetic code. Perhaps... how long does this take to load? You could put your excess full shells into subspace for now," Red suggested quietly, leaning against Salvo's frame slightly, then paused as they found the spot. Frowning, they rubbed and tapped along the area for a moment, murmuring "what is this", then leaned down and outright licked the spot. What- this wasn't metal. This wasn't anything they'd ever encountered. A few more rubs and prods, then they settled into a pattern, rubbing firmly at the area. "It feels... almost as though it properly assimilated. Have sensors grown into this area?" they asked quietly, rubbing gently, massaging around the area partially out of curiosity and partially to see if it might help. After a little while longer, they rubbed further back along the area to the edge of the helm plating, dipping their fingertips underneath to press and stroke. "Good?"

 

"Hmm, yeah," Salvo said, regaining some of his candor, "it's filled with- I think in the end they called it insect resin? Sticks- you met 'em, small, sat next to you, they're our medic- figured out if you ground up the shells of some of the native insects on the sand planet you could use em to make a kinda paste. Good for cracked things mostly but sometimes something breaks in half or you lose part of something- that's what happened here, some nasty bastard was using bullets instead of a regular blaster and it just went right through the plating, minced it. I got real lucky. Anyway you can use it to make new plating if you don't have the stuff to do it properly. It's real hard, not particularly durable but you could make a lot of it so it worked good enough." He paused, touching his fingertips to the beginning of the scar, "it feels... strange. I can definitely feel something but not everything. Temperature especially, which is good and bad. Can't speak about sensors cause I just don't know but it's definitely not being rejected- imagine my surprise when I first saw it was red instead of the ugly beige it is on its own, was worried people would be able to see it forever, beige does not go with my color palette I'll tell ya that much."

Red stroked the odd texture for a moment longer, focusing intently, then let their servos wander away as they spoke. "Fascinating. Although, I would... be inclined to suggest that you have it strength-tested. If it were on a limb, I would be less concerned, but your processor needs as much protection as your frame permits. It is also possible your nanites will use this as a framework and will gradually replace it with proper materials. It should be interesting to observe. But, I would prefer to... focus on enjoyment now."   
Slightly more confident now that they were sitting and therefore couldn't fall over, Notepad pressed their thumbs hard against the back of Salvo's neck, then ran them up in slow, even circles, underneath his helm armor. Not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough that it would border on discomfort, if not for how it tended to loosen cabling. "Guide me, if you can, to any scars. I cannot directly massage your helm plating, it won't yield enough, but reducing any tension I find in your frame will ease any future pain."   
Focusing on the massage was almost meditative. Red relaxed gradually, field unfurling further to purr quiet satisfaction/contentment/comfort with a quiet undernote reserved only for mutual grooming sessions. Perfectly normal. Perfectly content. Likely not something Salvo was used to. Red's servos traveled slowly down Salvo's back until they found a notable scar, then they began to work along its length, rubbing and loosening the taunt material. "Painful?"

Salvo tensed and leaned his helm towards their servos, "A-a little. I... don't know how it's supposed to feel." He gradually relaxed as he got used to Red's rhythm, humming a single note of relief, it did feel good. "That one you've found's a bug bite. Parasites found they had a taste for energon, got... a fair few like that. Though not much I can show without taking off some armor -nasty bastards. 'Nother one right-" he scooted Red's servos over to the space where his pauldrons met his back plating, "here. Got stabbed near there too, once. Rowdy Decepticon scout got too close way back when. Never really was any good at close-quarters combat."   
Salvo chuckled a bit and sighed happily as Red worked, "So you like to sing- still owe me another song by the way, and I... assume you like to give people massages. Anything else you do for fun? Seeing as we're both rather unemployed I figure we could pick up some hobbies to pass the time. Should? Probably should. Could learn something new together? I've personally always wanted to make something yanno?"

Red lingered on the area for a moment longer until they felt it becoming slightly more pliable, the tense structure of the scar broken up slightly, and shifted their work to the other scar. "The momentary discomfort will pass. Breathe," they whispered, and confined the next portion of the massage to exclusively non-scarred areas, working the tension and discomfort out. The question brought them to a pause, though, they had to think. "This... is the only thing I can do right now that I used to do for pleasure. I a- was a medic, so my... usual hobbies were largely related to construction and maintenance of useful items. Blindness hinders that."   
A long moment of stillness, then they started up again, focusing on the areas of Salvo's shoulders where people tended to carry tension. Long, firm rubs, occasionally shifting to press with their knuckles. "Would you... be willing to remove some of your plating for better access? Nothing too significant," they requested, very soft, focused on what they were doing again. After a few more moments, "Patches offered to teach me how to make candy. He... he's good at that, isn't he? I find myself... somewhat tempted. He seems kind," they remarked, very softly, a tiny flicker of fondness going through their field.

"You're gonna learn how to make Patches's candy? That's a great idea!" Salvo said, reaching back to jiggle loose the upper plating on his back, "That way when he says I can't have any I'll just ask you instead. Take that Patches! Haha!" he cheered a little louder, "Not that he did anything wrong that time, he's an honest mech and I do have a reputation for destroying doors. But-" Salvo quieted a bit, "you should. I think you should, and that's only partially selfish. I mean, you can make things and then you have all this candy and you don't even have to share, you can just eat it all. You know how much power that is? Plus, yanno, it beats doing nothing."  
Salvo finally dislodged the large plate he was working on. It served to protect the base of his neck and some of the interior mechanisms for his loading assembly. Underneath was a somewhat-dusty but active clump of muscle cabling, some unprotected exterior spinal ridges, and the base attachments for two pistons amongst some superficial energon lines and various tubing. The aforementioned stabbing scar tapered off into this area. Salvo held the plate for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with it, before hastily deciding on setting it down on the bench next to Red. It took a few moments to realize what he'd done as he felt an instinctual unnerving sense of exposure creep up into his mind. Red was good, though, he trusted them.

 

"You could learn as well," Red suggested softly, petting over the exposed area in broad, easy strokes, giving Salvo a moment to get used to the contact. A pause, feeling their way up the wall to briefly redirect the shower over Salvo's back and clean it off, then placed their palms against the pistons and hummed lightly. "Tell me if this is too unnerving," they whispered, then began to rub at Salvo's back a bit harder, leaning the palms of their servos into his frame. Long, slow strokes along his spine, occasionally venturing out along certain lines, fingertips sometimes pressing in to tweak or realign anything that wasn't perfect. Maybe they couldn't see it, but that honestly didn't make this all that much harder. It wasn't as though they had to find Salvo. He wasn't going anywhere.   
A light tweak to a crooked energon line, then Red swayed slightly in place, leaned slowly over Salvo, and pressed their front to his exposed back, leaning slightly on his shoulders for support. "Apologies. I... have not been sleeping well," they explained, and stayed like that for several moments, engine almost purring, before leaning back slightly to continue. This time, it was something they were sure would be good- minor aches and momentary twinges at most, mixed with a significant amount of pleasure. It might be a bit difficult to go much lower on his back in this position, but... no complaints.

 

"S'alright, big bad nightmares will do that to you. You can take a nap if you wanna," Salvo tilted his head back a bit, trying to get a glimpse of Red's face, "Just lemme know so I can turn off the shower, don't want miss tall and sharp to yell at me for wasting all the hot water." Turning his head back around to let Red continue, he thought aloud, "It's a weird feeling. I've never had someone touch this spot before, not outside of emergencies or yanno, medical procedures." he paused, as much as retrieving a fist-sized rock from his reload assembly counted as a medical procedure. Salvo's muscle cables began to twitch in varying degrees of intensity at Red's touch as their servos ventured further down. But the mech stayed put, field projecting a contented calm. By the sound of Red's voice, they were enjoying this immensely. And they were relaxed! Enough to lay down to rest a bit. He'd learn to get used to the feeling, he could already feel his frame relax, bit by bit, as it adjusted to what Red was doing.  
"Bit of a subject change but there are some things we gotta figure out. Logistics, yanno. I figure we're gonna start living together, at least until you've got a handle on the nightmares or you get sick of me, but would you want to come to my room, or have me camp out in yours? I room with Draft and he wouldn't mind, for sure. We've got a pretty cozy setup but it's a bit of a walk to the medbay. Up to you, though." Salvo leaned back a bit and stretched an arm out to catch the back of Red's helm, massaging his fingers in slightly, "Next order of business is setting up a time to fix your audial. We can schedule a date a few days or weeks out and then you can prepare yourself for that date or we can come in on the spot the first time you think you can handle it so you don't have any chances to get yourself riled up. Whichever you think is better. I'll have to insist it happens at some point though," Salvo smiled mischievously and let a good helping of facetiousness into his field, "Don't wanna be petting you one day and accidentally knock it off, then what would I do, huh? Don't think Patches would forgive me, no sir."

 

"Scalpel likes being clean. Medics do, but... her, more so. She has... claws on her pedes, I think. They click on the floor. Sounds different. Patches is heavy, Forceps is lighter, and Acus... keeps sneaking up on me. Too soft. Scalpel clicks. Sometimes just when she's standing. She goes over to the sinks a lot. Seen it happen a few times. Medics... start to associate clean servos with safety. If there's time to wash up between patients, there's time to save patients, it's not just... scrambling to- oh-"   
Red jumped slightly, having caught the motion but not registered where Salvo's servos were going, then leaned into the touches slightly. They could feel the cabling relaxing, everything aligning itself properly under their servos. Satisfying. Everything settling in as though it was supposed to be. Most of it had been at least slightly misaligned to work with- not enough that things wouldn't work, but enough for it to be tense and less than efficient. "You should feel less tense soon. Your frame has been... gradually working itself out of alignment, and tensing to compensate."  
A moment more of quiet, then a soft sigh, though their voice didn't go any smaller as they spoke. "I don't yet have a room. I was on suicide watch. I am not any more, but... I have no way to navigate back to the medbay. I suppose I could... ask if there are any empty rooms near the medbay. Perhaps you could... help me figure out a setup that would not have me hurting myself on everything?"   
Crouching slightly, they leaned their weight against Salvo's frame to press a more stubborn patch of cabling back into line, then slid their fingertips firmly between the lines of muscle cables to make sure everything underneath was aligned properly. "For my audial... I would be open to that after we... finish with this. Would you- hnf," they muttered, having accidentally elbowed themself in the stomach, "-would you be open to moving this to a berth for now? This is not the best angle, and I doubt you would be comfortable lying on the floor."

Salvo sat up a bit at the suggestion, a grin playing across his face, "Taking me to the berth on the first date, I see. Well I'm happy to oblige." He leaned forward and slowly stood up so as not to spook Red and turned the shower off. As he reached full height he rolled his shoulders a bit, already feeling the effects of Red's work. Grabbing his backplate from the bench with one servo, he bent over to offer them a forearm, pushing it gently into their chassis so they knew it was there, "I feel better and I felt good before, I dunno how you're doing this Red but you're definitely good at it."  
Once Red had a good hold on him, Salvo led them out the door and to the nearest berth, thinking aloud again, "I'm wondering if we could set up some sorta rope system, put it along the walls so you could get to the medbay on your own. I mean I'd accompany you any time you'd want to go but I dunno, maybe you wanna get places on your own? I don't even know how much you'd wanna hang out here, too. I'll bring you here for emergencies anyway... As for the room, something like," He paused to find the right word, "some kinda padding, something soft around the edges of things until you get the lay of the room. And-ooh! We could push the small things to the sides so you don't have to navigate around them. Or- I dunno would you want it to be more packed in so there's always something to touch?"  
When they got to the berth, Salvo sat down on the side first so Red knew where he was, then stretched out on his front on the berth, burying his face in- "Wait, this smells used" he said, jerking his head up to look around, "right this is where Notepad was. Hmm..." Salvo stuck his face on the other side of the berth, "it does! It smells like Sticks too... huh."

"Oh, you- you get used to the discomfort, your processor stops consciously registering it to protect you from the stress, but it-" Red began, wearing a slightly goofy, albeit tiny smile, thoroughly pleased at the response, "-it still registers, subconsciously, in an attempt to get you to seek out improvement. Fixing that removes the stress. It's... not inherently difficult, I can show you how to do this for someone else," they offered, sticking close to Red the whole way. Their steps were visibly less hesitant, though, with someone to guide them.  
After a breath or two, they pricked their winglets a fraction, looking slightly hopeful. "That could work. I'm... told there are few guidelines on assisting a blind patient, everything is about how to fix blindness, which. No. But... the ropes could work. I would certainly be willing to try."   
And then, ah- perfect. A berth. Winglets lifting further, Red waited for Salvo to settle, then moved up next to him and lightly stroked his back. Further down from where they'd been before, the small of the back- there were always lots of small plates here, intricate workings to allow for flexibility. People didn't carry too much stress here, usually, but they misaligned everything very easily. No exception. Humming softly, they began to rub at the workings here, shifting them back into place, tracing and rubbing with their palms and then venturing in closer to dig their fingertips in. Figure out where everything was, then where it was supposed to be, then set about putting it to rights. Slow, firm, no rush, just... rub and massage and push until it was lined up and put to rights.   
And then. Hm. Lay down on top of Salvo's back for a moment or two. They weren't too heavy!

Salvo swayed slightly in the berth at the feeling- he didn't even know his backplates weren't in the right spot but evidently they were now, "you know I'd love to learn act-oof." Once he caught his breath, he jolted his head up at the feeling of Red's frame hitting his back. Propping himself up on an elbow he turned around as best he could... and stopped just short of being able to see them. His helm crest hit the front side of one of his pauldrons with a grating clank. Out of the corner of his gaze he could see Red's back, not enough to tell if they were hurt or not.  
"Fuck this frame and it's stupid goddamn pauldrons, not being able to see-" Salvo grumbled, "You okay back there Red? Do you need help or are you just taking that nap. Uhh one tap for 'need help' two taps for 'fine' if you can."  
Oops. What had been a vague idea of "slowly lay down on top of Salvo for a moment" had turned into "fall asleep in midair while leaning down", and Red made a very confused sound against Salvo's back as they woke up again. "mmmfh, two? Oh. Fell asleep. Sorry. Pauldrons're... inconvenient. Stop," they declared, and reached up to push Salvo back down onto the berth. Without getting up from his back at all. "ssstop, not... not done. Jus'. Sleepy."   
True to their word, they were not done. Despite staying lying on Salvo's back with their face between his shoulders, they ran both servos along his sides until they found a spot they could easily reach, then began to massage up under his chassis plating. This, well- this had no real purpose, nothing meant to align, it was just for pleasure. Firm rubs interspersed with a sort of scritching motion, petting cables that were practically never touched but always seemed to appreciate a good scratch.  
Soundwave was curious. That was a significant personality trait of his, he liked to know things. So, feeling considerably better after a long sleep and another cube of energon, he collected himself and Laserbeak and went to explore. Well. He went out into the medbay, and then stopped, realizing that this was not the best circumstance. Two bots were between him and the door. They looked comfortable enough, but one- one lifted their helm towards the door-noise, and wasn't that interesting, where had their optics gone? He'd seen an attempted self-blinding before, but that was an Autobot with blunt fingers, this bot had succeeded in- well. That was impressive. The other, some variety of MTO, heavily armed-   
Heavily armed and now thoroughly alarmed. Ah. Problem. Soundwave, for about the first time in several decades, visibly backed down, raising both servos in a placating gesture. Did he really look like he was up to something? He was still limping slightly and wrapped in a noticeable amount of bandaging, he wasn't here to do anything. So, trying to avoid a confrontation, he backed up another step or two and lowered his plating, crossing the flat of one lower arm over his chassis to shield Laserbeak but otherwise not doing anything even remotely aggressive or protective. Waiting.

 

"You know you can just nap and finish it later ri-" Salvo spotted Soundwave's angular, shadowy form and instantly sprang up, pushing himself off the berth with one servo planted firmly under Red's aft to keep them from falling off. He retreated slowly, hunched over to maintain balance, with Red facing firmly away from any danger, his free arm transformed and trained on the intruder, "Hold on as best you can, Red" he whispered. His mind ran wild in the meantime. Draft and Bowline were down for the count, Burner was out of reach and here he was alone with a literally defenseless, blind, charge against the Decepticon third, noted pit fighter. Soundwave's frame was built for fast movements, an up close melee fighter with a long reach.   
At this distance Salvo had one shot, maybe two if the mech decided to charge him. But he- he didn't. He was- Salvo felt the small impact of the next berth travel through Red's frame into his own. He didn't dare take his optics off Soundwave to check how close he was to the wall, instead choosing to widen his stance, this would be his point alpha. But Soundwave was... retreating? He was bandaged up. Salvo lowered his arm but kept it in gun-mode, pointed away.   
"You," Salvo projected across the medbay, letting his second vocalizer drop very low, the mech was clearly attempting to be as non-threatening as possible, whether this was a feint or genuine he couldn't tell, but what he did know was he would not let him hurt his charge. He summoned every ounce of charisma in his frame and stood up slightly, still holding onto Red, face steeled, field projecting confidence, danger, 'don't come any closer' without a single blip of fear. His visor glowed brightly as he spoke again, "What are you doing, Soundwave."

Red yelped pitifully as their servos were snagged, frightened by the sudden motion and thoroughly in pain, and whimpered as they got their fingers out of the cramped spots. Frightened and upset, they tucked their servos up under their chin for protection, trembling as they tried to figure out what was happening. Panting, they leaned into Salvo's frame, but couldn't help much with holding on- their servos still ached too much for them to be willing to un-tuck. Soft, shaky whining, face pressed into Salvo's frame, helm moving in tiny, frantic motions in a desperate attempt to at least locate the threat- a thoroughly frightened image, and for what? Nothing. Nothing but Salvo's distressed lifesigns. They didn't even know what-   
Soundwave.   
It was Soundwave.  
Soundwave, meanwhile, was not thrilled by this situation. He didn't exactly want to frighten the blind, scarred medic. The main threat here was the mech with the gun. Who, at least, didn't seem to be planning to start firing right now. So... Soundwave was going to try to work with this. If he could get the Autobot to settle, great. But his charisma was... considerably less than average, and he didn't exactly have a voice to be polite with. If he couldn't settle the Autobot, his next plan would be to go for it. He'd charged headlong into more than a few gun fights, it wasn't too difficult to avoid the majority of the blasts. Especially with a bot who was occupied with something else. Like a blind, frightened medic. If Soundwave got his cables onto the Autobot, that would be it as far as the threat- pin him down, detach the blind bot, pin the Autobot until he accepted defeat. Probably not the best thing, though, it would scare the blind bot even further and would not make the best impression on anyone who were to walk in at that point. Plus, charging, and thus eliciting a violent response, was... less than a tempting idea, especially considering the tiny frame curled in his belly. He couldn't risk that.   
So. Nonviolence first. Moving slowly, he gestured slightly towards the door, playing one of his 'neutral' recordings. A recording, tweaked slightly to alter the tone and render the voice unrecognizable, so no one would recognize it as familiar -potentially as an enemy- and be put further on guard. "Leaving," he explained, then lifted his chin slightly, indicating Salvo without moving his arms. "Being threatened."

Part of Salvo's mind strained close to snapping at Red's pitiful noises, the other part was focused on fixing the situation. Deescalation was not in his repertoire, but did he want to fight Soundwave? Not here, not now, not from this distance, not without the rest of the Choir backing him up. He'd lose. And if he lost, Red would be in danger and alone again and the Choir would be out of a leader. He wouldn't have that.  
"Course I'm threatening you, you're threatening," Salvo said, his voice back to normal now, "Leave. Get on with it. If you fuck with us I'll put a hole in your frame the size of your helm. Understood?"   
Salvo backed up a bit, finding the berth with his arm to set Red down on top of it. It was then he realized he couldn't feel their servos on him, something was wrong, Red was scared again, but what was he supposed to do, take his optics off the clearly-dangerous mech? He moved a step to the side, still keeping most of his frame in between Red and Soundwave, and reached back to place a steadying servo on their back, fingers exploring slightly for any injury, anything he hadn't seen before. Salvo's servo was shaking, along with his entire frame. There were tiny tremors traveling up his arms and legs, completely unnoticeable to anyone not right next to him, a mixture of adrenaline, nerves, and the creeping fear that history would repeat itself, that after all these years of success he'd fail once again.

Soundwave nodded once, and started moving again, slowly. One arm out slightly to guard his stomach and chassis, helm cocked so he could continue watching Salvo out the corner of his optic without straight-up staring, moving slowly and as steadily as he could despite the limp wanting to manifest itself. Slow, steady, easily predictable motions- and deliberately tapping his heels as he stepped to let the blind bot track his motions. And it worked- he could see the bot's face following him. Still tracking Salvo's motions, he slowly reached to open the door, stepped out, and shut it, leaving them alone.   
Now. Where was the bridge in relation to the medbay, again? That was the best place to get data. Besides, he rather liked the idea of taking over the captain's chair to watch the responses. Though Crucible was strong enough to pick him up and move him away. And the other bot, from before- the pretty thing with the horns and the wings. That was an unusual set of genetics. Vaguely familiar.  
The door audibly shut, and Red slumped against Salvo's frame, trembling much harder than he was, servos still tucked up under their chin. The ache faded away somewhat, and Red put an arm around Salvo's frame, hugging him close, but kept the other servo tucked up. The plates had been wrenched, hard, by the motions, and some were still rather crooked. It hurt. Both servos hurt, but this one had gotten the worst of it, and shifting their fingers even slightly hurt even more. One was working, at least, painful but able to shift, but- ow.   
Their trembling began to ease slightly, and they whimpered slightly harder, their one working servo sliding up to check Salvo's pulse. "He's. He's gone. Y-you're- it's okay?" they whispered, very softly, not quite sure of it themself. They didn't know, but- they'd heard Soundwave leave. That left him still on the ship, but- that was Soundwave. Who- actually, no, it- it was fine. "Salvo, he's- you- nobody scares him. If- if he left, it's- it's because he didn't- w-we must not be important. It's- it's okay, we're- ah, ow-"

 

Salvo watched with sharp gaze as Soundwave exited, standing stock still for a few moments after the door closed behind him in case the mech tried to spring a surprise attack. Each whimper that came from behind him added another stone to his frame until it became too great a weight to carry. Clenching his dentae, he snapped his arm back to normal, servo curling into a fist. He turned around and knelt down to see what was wrong with Red, quickly patting down their helm, chassis, then arms until finally he spotted their servos. He sighed, something catching in his throat, that was his fault. He slowly drew his fingertips up Red's helm and brought it close in next to his throat.  
"He's gone for now. For some reason people on this ship seem to trust him but I don't- I don't buy it. Came here last night looking all beat up. I don't know what his plan is, if he's trying to infiltrate or what. I guess I'd forgotten with everything going on. If he tries anything I'll keep you safe, though truthfully we'd need to be much better prepared to really take him on. We should move from this spot before too long but for now, your fingers Red. That was my fault," Salvo could feel his face heating up. He tucked Red's helm further under his chin and brought his servo up to his visor, a moment's hesitation and he plucked it from its spot and laid it down on the berth. His face twitched a bit at the increase in lighting but at least he'd be able to cry without worrying about sparks bouncing back and hitting his bare optic, "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't be hurting you."  
The last few words seemed to ping off his spark chamber as Salvo pulled away to see what he'd done. Tears rolled down his bare cheeks, now freed from their cage. He brought his palm to meet Red's and gently pet their fingers. He could feel the plating move slightly underneath his own fingertips which sent a new wave of hurt through his frame, but he stayed silent and continued to stroke, slowly but surely tweaking the plating back into the right place. He didn't even notice the tears falling on their servos as he worked.

Red whimpered into Salvo's throat for a moment or two, then ex-vented hard and curled in close, pawing at Salvo's frame with their one good servo. No, no, he was upset, he- it wasn't his fault! No! They intended to tell him that, too, but then he started touching their servos and their thought processes skidded to a halt. It hurt, and then their fingertips touched living metal and medic subroutines kicked in. Their pain took a backseat to everything else, and that meant they didn't pull away as- oh. Oh.   
Another soft noise, this time a trill, and Red quivered as their plating started to shift back into place. Leaning back slightly, they kept their servos perfectly still for a moment longer, then slowly, carefully lifted the servo not being worked on. A few practiced stretches and curls of their fingers put the slight shifts in plating to rights, and they carefully followed Salvo's frame up with tiny brushes of their fingertips until they found his face. Leaning in, they pushed their forehelm carefully against his, their more-cramped servo flexing slightly in his grip. "Stop that. Wasn't your fault. Good reflexes- trying to protect me. Didn't mean to."  
A careful, deep vent, and they took their servo away, touching lightly with their fingertips in an investigative manner. "Strained. Needs relocation. Nothing more. Just... hurt. Sensitive. Keep going?" they whispered, very soft, and pushed their servo carefully back into his grasp. It hurt, yes, but it was starting to hurt less, and this was what needed to be done. And the rubbing, that- that was good!   
That was... really good. Oh. They hadn't had a servo massage in centuries, and this- well, it was inexperienced, based in practicality, and still hurt to some degree, but it felt good. Salvo's servos were warm. Now if only he weren't so upset! Nuzzling further into his frame, they braced their pedes and shoved firmly, trying to put him back on the berth. "-go. Sit. I want to go back to before. But with- w-with- ohh-" they gasped, winglets shooting straight up, a surge of pleasure shooting all the way up their arm as Salvo did something just right. "...oh."

 

Well that was an unexpected reaction, Salvo thought, doing as Red asked and moving to sit back up on the berth. He sighed and looked at Red's face for a moment as the guilt slowly dripped out of him. "I-I'll continue, of course. It's the least I can do," He said softly, looking back down at Red's servo. He caught each finger and pinched slightly along the sides, lining up the plating. Once that was done he set to testing each finger's stretch, incrementally bending it a little bit more forward until the tension was gone, then moving onto the next one. All the while he talked, quieter than he normally would, "You could probably feel, I, um, took off my visor. It's cause- can you imagine it- if I cry in the visor it, the sparks, they bounce off of it and right into my optics and it-it hurts like a bitch. Some kinda design huh, can't even let a mech cry without hurting himself," he paused to gently spread their fingers out, at this point having completed what he'd known and simply playing with what was in his servos, "I don't usually, uhh, go around without a visor. It's a pretty rare occurrence actually. So if you wanted to get a good l-well not look but you know, you can, now. You're allowed. Just be careful around my optics, there's not much to protect em when they're out, exposed like this. Uhm."   
Salvo seemed almost... sheepish, nervous about something, "anyway this is exciting. Sticks never lets me touch their servos, tells me never to touch medics's servos, cause they're sensitive? or something? Which is kind of ridiculous since- I~ can't tell ya that. Figure the only way I'm getting away with this now is cause you're not a medic anymore," he chuckled a bit, "but really, I don't know what I'm doing. You, uhh, have any pointers for what you like?"

 

Oh. Yes. That- that would be a good thing to focus on, other than the shimmers of pleasure running up their arm. Salvo must not know. This was greatly appreciated, and it felt good. Too good. Not an appropriate level of pleasure for a public space, with a new friend. So, that in mind, Red climbed neatly into Salvo's lap, thighs clamping around his frame for support, and ran their free servo up to pet around his optics. Gentle, of course, careful not to ever actually prod his optics. Just checking the layout. Their fingertips found the conductivity of a plug, and they paused for a moment, then slid their arm down to cling tight to Salvo's frame. Their vents kicked up, and they gave a soft, shaking noise, very near a moan, fingers curling in Salvo's grip. Vents kicking up slightly, they rocked slowly against Salvo's thigh, pushing their face into his neck and trying to figure out what to do.  
This was... starting to feel very, very good. Too good. Their interface equipment hadn't responded at all, but their vents were definitely starting to rev, and their servos -both servos- were starting to tingle. Mouth falling open, they did their best to stifle a moan, but didn't quite manage to keep themself from rocking forwards again. Salvo had to notice this, right? He- he must, which- which meant-  
Evidently he, at least, didn't mind. And Red, well- glad as they were that their equipment wasn't responding, save that urge to rock their hips against Salvo's thigh, they couldn't bring themself to resist. To... do anything, really, other than-   
Other than hook an arm around Salvo's frame for support, grasping at his back plating, and vent shakily against his shoulder. Their fingers twitched or curled now and then as Salvo found especially good spots, and the newly aligned plating lifted up into the touches, opening them up for more contact. More. They couldn't remember the last time someone had touched their servos like- like this, and it-   
A sharp gasp slipped from their throat, and their entire arm twitched, then they groaned long and slow and pushed the fingers on their unoccupied servo up under Salvo's side plating again. They couldn't not- the mismatch was too great otherwise. They needed the stimulation, the heat, the texture, the- everything.   
Primus.

Salvo slowed for a bit, slightly confused. The hugging he got, the now very-nice massage he got, which he was, in his mind, reciprocating. The vents... maybe Red was just emotional? It'd been a long couple hours and... and they seemed to like giving massages but when was the last time they received a massage? Better times? What was he to say, people were emotional. But the... the groans? That could be more... emotions, he supposed.   
He let out a contented sigh, there was something more important. He'd felt Red's finger brush over his disturbing secret and they seemed to not notice. Or if they noticed they didn't care. Maybe they'd dealt with an MTO like him before. Maybe they knew what it was for, the little port just above his left optic, whose hole snaked its way directly to his processor. It bothered him to ever acknowledge it but Red seemed not to truly care. It was a good feeling, not to be seen as a horrific oddity.  
Okay there was definitely something suspect with the way Red was treating his leg. Now that he thought about it, it was a little... wait. His optics brightened considerably as his entire face flushed. This!! This was!! Wasn't it?? But there's no... What about...?  
Salvo coughed rather loudly and held Red's servo in his own, palm up, "Red, friend, buddy, uhm, if you're just havin a... a moment I completely understand and by all means continue. But I," his voice cracked a bit in embarrassment, "I don't understand- Could you uhh, explain what's going on here?"

 

Red might have had some thoughts about the plug, in different circumstances. Mostly indignation on Salvo's behalf. Right now, though, the only thing they could spare any processor power for was-  
Was mortification, now. Oh dear Primus, Salvo didn't know? Which meant he- he hadn't meant to- oh, Primus. Red withdrew as much as they could bear, tugging both servos carefully away from his frame, and curled into a ball with their face hidden behind their arms in embarrassment. They'd just- they were- oh no.   
After a few embarrassed moments, they spoke, albeit very softly, servos flexing against nothing in particular. "It's sensitive. Medics' servos are- are very sensitive. In- in some circumstances, it- it can be interpreted as- in- in a sexual manner. I'm- I'm so sorry, I-I thought you'd realized, I didn't know you'd- I-I wouldn't- if I'd known, I'd... sorry. Sorry, Salvo. Do- do y-you- you asked me what- what I like, I'm- I am so sorry, I didn't- d-do you need me to- to leave?" they asked, even softer, starting to lean away, then whimpered and huddled into the tiniest possible ball. "I can stop. I-I can stop, just, please, please let me stay, please, Salvo, please," they begged, completely open, completely blatant, unwrapping their arms from their helm in order to speak clearly. "I'm sorry. Please. Please, Salvo. I'll be good. Please."  
They didn't recognize it, of course, they couldn't see themself from the outside, but they looked about as pitiful as it was possible for someone to look without being seriously injured. Dear Primus, they'd- Salvo hadn't known, that was creepy of them to be- to be enjoying-   
Unless- there was a chance he'd- he'd asked what they wanted, maybe he-   
Was there any chance he'd- "Salvo, I- I wasn't going to open up, not out here, it just felt- that felt so good, and my servos are sensitive, and- and you- it seemed like you were trying to- to make me feel good, I thought you might- I'm- did you- you didn't mean to- no, no, of- of course you didn't, I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, I am so sorry, Salvo, I didn't- I'll- I'll go if you need me to, but, please, please don't need me to," they finished, and turned their face up to him, still quivering, vents kicked up to a higher speed despite everything else. Their frame wanted to be touched. Salvo's attention to their hurts, then the continued affection, had registered as a potential source of the contact they were craving. They desperately wanted, needed to be held, and then- well, what touch-starved frame wouldn't jump at the chance for mutual pleasure?

Salvo blushed even harder and let out a disbelieving laugh, "So that's what Sticks meant by... sensitive. Hoo, wow. Red calm down you talk too much, can barely understand ya," He reached out to bring them closer, placing his servos on their shoulders, "It's fine it's okay. That ahh, fills in some blanks... actually. Um. It seems to be a-hah, mutual misunderstanding, which is fine. You're... not the first one to interpret me being, well, myself as... advances of some sort," he paused, voice going slightly quieter, "Slag, half the Choir thought that way at some point. I think I come off as more into interface than I am... which is none. Not into it. Tried it once, didn't do anything for me and I got sand in my panel that only really came out all the way a few months ago. I'm... I don't know how to feel about it."  
Salvo sat back a little bit and marinated for a moment. That was... more personal than he'd like to have gone but the embarrassment seemed to be putting him in much more of a sharing mood. He guessed he didn't mind the idea of jerking someone off. Red seemed to like what he was doing a lot and it's not like there were fluids going anywhere, he didn't have to show any of his netherparts. When he and Draft had tried, Draft didn't seem too excited either, but Red was. Maybe this would be different? He'd never seen an overload before, which piqued his curiosity more than anything else. And after all that, it seemed like a nice thing to do for a new friend who so clearly needed the attention.  
"Hmm," Salvo hummed, then leaned forward to catch Red's other servo, the one that he hadn't started on (after all if he was going to do this at least he'd right his wrong from earlier), "You're good, you're okay. I wanted to know what you liked specifically, so I could do that. I don't know how to massage things, especially not servos. I figure I'd like to see someone overload at least once in my life, if it means ah... helping you along myself, it doesn't quite matter to me. Just um, I don't think I could handle any equipment right now- mentally. If you're amenable to that then, allow me to start again and really give it to ya." Salvo traced his thumb around Red's palm, ready to really give it all he had. After all, why half-aft it after all this?

Red went silent as Salvo started talking, slumping limp in relief, and crawled further into Salvo's lap for comfort. Oh. He... definitely wasn't upset. He was open, curious- willing! Hopeful, Red pressed further into Salvo's frame, stroking at his side with their free servo, and curled their fingers gently against Salvo's servo. Oh. Well, this was- this was in, uh, in public, but it- ohh, Primus. They wanted more of everything. A soft, purring trill, and they slipped their fingertips between plates on Salvo's side, purring very softly to him as they started to settle in. As their fans started to kick up further, in particular.   
"It- it's- ohh. Yes. Definitely amenable," they groaned, hips rocking in a tentative motion, and whimpered quietly in pleasure. "Like- like that. Up- along my- t-the sides of my servos, between the bases of- of my fingers, if- if you don't mind, it's- oh!" they squeaked, then shuddered, winglets flicking up slightly higher. "Oh. Primus. No- no equipment required, I-I can fully- I-I can- oh, Primus- there?"   
Hard to remain focused on their own mortification with Salvo rubbing them like this. This servo was fine, no plates that needed relocating, so this was sheer pleasure. Mouth falling open slightly, they whimpered and rocked against Salvo's frame, again, hips bucking instinctively. They might not need any contact to their equipment for this, but the reflex to thrust and grind was still there. Interestingly, their plating wasn't heating up at all. Their equipment wasn't taking any interest.

There was something a little strange about being the calm one in the pair when nothing was wrong, Salvo thought. But, he supposed, it just meant he'd be less likely to mess up, "Careful where you put your fingers, Red, we don't want a repeat in case we get spooked again. Now," he shifted his grip on Red's servo, pressing his thumbs up the sides, slowly but firmly, "sides and finger bases, just the answer I'd wanted. Damn, they really are sensitive, huh. That is a dangerous piece of knowledge- not that I'd use it to hurt anyone, of course, that'd be a low blow and I don't hit low, after all what's a win when you had to cheat to get there. But," he switched again to run his fingertips in between their fingers, "The mischief that could be done with this information is just, very powerful. Sticks is on their way to having servos just as sensitive and they can take a joke. And then their partner, who's also a medic, Forceps, doesn't really like me that much, oh- Oh," he laughed, "that's... a mental picture I didn't think I'd ever see. Oho-"  
Salvo spent some time just laughing, optics focused on Red to make sure everything was still okay. He realized just how much he'd been talking. Not that it was conscious, nor did he expect a response. He definitely seemed to be picking up on Red's energy on some level. On top of that there was something steadying about it, too, didn't have to think too hard while talking up a storm. "Is- Am I talking too much? Am I ruining the mood? There's supposed to be a mood, right. That's what I heard," Salvo said, now working three fingers in circles around Red's palm, "It's funny I've gotten a lot of people hitting on me but I'm pretty sure I'm the least sexy mech alive- or, second least. Sticks gets that crown. then again, they've definitely done it before and are apparently getting the most spike of everyone currently but well, what do I know."

Red was listening. Sort of. Mostly, they were grinding into Salvo's frame, panting softly, their unoccupied servo pawing at his flank in what was meant to be a massage but was more like awkward petting. "Nngh, like the talking," they declared, squirming slightly, then groaned louder and grasped awkwardly at his servo. "Nngh- oh! Ah, Salvo, t-that- that's- ohh, like that, please-"   
They were listening! Slightly. Mostly, they were enjoying, and it was very hard to focus on listening. But Salvo- Salvo wasn't exactly being sexy, they got that. It didn't make him any less- well, he was cute. The chatter was cute. That- that was the mood anyway, Salvo being chattery and not at all turned on.   
Red, meanwhile, was very turned on. Enough that they'd tucked themself up close, legs clamped around Salvo's upper thigh, hips rocking in quick little thrusting motions. They had their face pushed into Salvo's neck, too, muffling their gasps and trills, their vents gusting hot air against his frame.   
Charge building from tactile-only overload was an odd thing when interface equipment wasn't involved. It tended to pool around the spark chamber instead of in the pelvic array, and was a bit more aimless, charge crackling out unexpectedly and jumping into Salvo's frame. Most interestingly, it jumped out into the point of contact- into their servo, setting it to tingling, and into the servo that was currently toying with Salvo's flank cabling. Hips bucking a bit harder, they trilled happily and curled in tight, frame tensing and trembling until-   
Charge with no clear outlet tended to just burst out in all directions, which is what Red's did as they overloaded. That and the general lack of fluids aside, it looked like a fairly typical overload, back arching and frame tensing in pleasure. Gasping softly, they bucked once against Salvo's frame, then panted, whimpered, and went limp, servos twitching fitfully against Salvo's frame. Ohh. Primus.

Salvo sat up quickly with a surprised gasp at the feeling of Red's charge skittering across the front of his frame. He looked at their servo, which he held loosely now that the activity seemed to be over. That was... an unexpected feeling. Definitely. His fingers kept twitching and his whole servo seemed to crawl with the memory of that energy. He could feel the spot where Red's other servo had held on was hot and was crawling as well. So that was it, huh. No interface needed. A kind of excited energy made of concentrated bewilderment snapped through his frame. He felt... good? A confused smile spread over his face, he couldn't help but giggle, "I don't... know... what I just felt but, that was something. Deeply enlightening," he found his breath just wasn't there and since when was his spark going this fast?   
Salvo giggled again and brought Red's servo to his shoulder, leaving his own free. It was still trembling slightly, he noticed as he examined both of his servos at once. Didn't look any different, but felt entirely so. He leaned forward a little, wrapping his arms around Red's back to stroke the plating he found, running his fingers up and down the seams almost without noticing, "I'm just, so giddy right now Red. What is going on with my frame? You got any answers with your extensive not-medic knowledge?" Salvo paused and laughed a little more albeit sheepishly, "O-or maybe a better question to ask right now is, how are you feeling? Was that, was it good?"

 

"Oooh, good," Red giggled, finding Salvo's mood slightly contagious, tucking their servos loosely up to their chassis as they slumped into Salvo's grip. Shuddering and trilling happily, they nuzzled into his frame and giggled helplessly for a moment, then lightly touched Salvo's flanks in a few different places. "Mm. That's... a slight increase in charge. Your frame may not know what to do with it, either due to sheer lack of experience or to having nowhere to focus. Is it- you- you seem to be-" they began, then, giggling very softly, began to rub at his sides with their fingertips. He wasn't turned on at all, was he? Mildly interesting. "-was that nice for- for you?"   
A soft shudder, then a purr, and they hugged Salvo close. "Thank you. I'm- I'm sorry I- no, it's- ooh, goodness. Ohh. I-" a pause, then they sneezed rather loudly, jolting their frame, and pushed firmly at Salvo's chassis. "Down. Let- let me- do you- what were you- w-what-"   
A deep vent to gather themself up, and they turned their face up to Salvo, voice soft but steady. "I'm here. I'm- I'm good. You're... sweet. Want- want me to- anything? Pet, or-"  
They paused, blinking, and offered Salvo the tiniest smile. "Haven't talked this much in. Years. I almost feel..." a glance down at their servos, fingers flexing slightly, "pretty good. Really good, right then. But I'm..." another deep vent, and they wiped away a stray tear, pressing tight to Salvo's frame. "...I think I'm okay right now."

\----  
If they'd known that by the afternoon they'd be aft-deep in trying to find a way around an unsolvable task, Spade wouldn't have woken up this morning. Their servos were gripped around the arm joint of the cleaner-bot, oiling its hinging mechanisms, while their processor was somewhere else entirely. "Could have it sort by size first but then it'd need to have an ongoing list of everything it comes across which defeats the whole purpose of working without a memory chip," they muttered, testing the joint again, "fucking still could just attach weight sensors and call it a day but-" they shuddered, closing their optics in disgust, "no fucking tact, only brute force, it'll go forever, I'll never be able to work in this..."  
Spade looked around at the piles of boxes full of old datapads which sat underneath a new helping of junk -broken monitors, beaten up devices, an entire stack of dusty hard-drives. Their optics finally settled on one corner of the room filled with tiny miscellaneous pieces: washers, sensors, tiny lights, a few obscure tools. They could find anything in their room, roughly, save for that one corner. These kinds of things wouldn't stay in neat towers and if they were kept in a drawer they would mix together into an unsightly mess. All they needed was someone else to organize the pieces for them so they wouldn't spend half an hour searching for just the right size of washer again- all it took was once. They looked again at the half-built cleaner bot and sighed.   
They needed a break.

With a little too much energy, Spade pushed themself off the ground, grabbed their personal datapad and stylus from their berth and set out of their room. They needed above all to clear their head, think of something other than impossible efficiency problems. Their steps were nearly silent as they aimlessly wandered through the ship's halls, the result of a mixture of biology and strict training. Due to their stature and quiet nature, they found themself frequently weaving among the long legs of bots going about their daily lives, completely unnoticed (not that they'd like to be noticed, of course, helped avoid wasting time with useless conversations). The activity of walking small and unnoticed, however, required a great deal of concentration and mental fortitude, after all one misstep and you're deeply injured or dead. Such concentration was not conducive to productive thought.  
Spade made their way through the bar, finding it too full for their liking, walked around a few different residence corridors, too much in and out, too much noise, they just wanted to sit and- And what? And be out of their room. Dare they try drawing again? Drawing what. They abruptly stopped thinking to swerve around a large green leg. Alright this was getting ridiculous. They began to path around people, darting down the first empty corridor they saw for a while. It didn't take long for them to find themself entirely lost. Great.  
Spade continued down the hall for a bit, walking truly aimlessly now there was nobody around until- clang, clang clang that was, unmistakably the sound of ringing metal. They frowned and ventured toward the noise, eventually stopping in front of an open door, shimmering in the heat that radiated from the room it kept. They cocked their helm and peeked inside. Standing in silhouette of yellow-orange light was unmistakably Crucible.  
Well, one person wasn't too bad, it was warm inside, and the way the light touched the mech's frame made for an interesting study-Spade could already see the uniform lines curling into place around him. This'll do. They walked in, still silent, and clawed their way up onto a higher desk to perch and observe. They took out their datapad and stylus, curling their chassis close to see in the dim light. Yes, this'll do.

Crucible probably wouldn't have noticed a fistfight going on behind him, and he definitely didn't notice Spade coming in. He was occupied with, well- it wasn't much yet, he was still making the billet, but it was going to be a sword. Probably. Might lean towards being an axe eventually, but for now it wanted to be a heavy, single-edged sword, probably with a double-edged tip. Optics covered in the tinted third lids meant to protect him from the light, he skillfully folded the heated metal against his anvil and began to hammer again, doubling the layers in the metal. One of the advantages of his massive heat tolerance- this sort of thing was far easier for him than for most organic species, he could work the metal at much higher temperatures and fold it before it even began to harden. Too bad for the species who couldn't do this! Really, Crucible had to be careful not to heat the metal for too long, he didn't want to melt or burn it.  
A pause to check the layers, then he shifted it to continue hammering, completely unaware of anything and everything happening around him. 

Soundwave didn't have enough of a map of the ship to know where the bridge was, nor was he in any mood to snoop around. He mostly wanted to rest, but he was curious, and he'd heard the hammering from a fairly considerable distance. It wasn't the most pleasant, and he dimmed his audials slightly as he got closer, but the heat was tempting and- ah! Now he knew where he was. This was Crucible's workshop. Now, he'd gotten a few stares but no significant remarks, and he didn't want to push his luck with encounters. So he slunk inside, scanning the room for threats, and found- a possibility, but nothing major. One bot, relatively small, likely not too much of a threat. Regardless, he kept an optic on Spade as he limped further into the room, moving over to one of the chairs that Crucible had placed here for such purposes. Evidently he liked an audience. Slumping into the soft (albeit singed) armchair, Soundwave cocked his helm to watch Crucible work, content to relax here and be comfortable.

Spade bristled as they saw Soundwave enter but said nothing. They were safe enough, back to the wall at their seat on the desk. If the mech, who, Spade noticed, was limping and half-bandaged from his entry last night, tried anything hopefully Crucible would turn around. At the very least there were many odd places to hide in here. They turned back to watch Crucible again. The repetitive motions of... whatever he was doing made for nice inspiration. It had taken quite a bit of impetus to actually rewire the datapad for color, not the least because they weren't exactly satisfied with how their black and white sketches turned out. But the urge was too great and now they diligently began to render Crucible's movement in shades of warm, dark brown, gold, and bright scarlet. Color, as opposed to line or form, was neutral. It was powerful but clean and clear-cut. Two colors next to each other had their own relationship which was unpredictable within an acceptable boundary. They felt their tension begin to ease away, their mind begin to clear, except... except...  
Spade turned to glare at Soundwave, the mech wasn't doing anything in particular but the shape of that bastard at the edge of their gaze was distracting, "Hey! Angles!"Spade shouted in Soundwave's direction, an irritated frown smearing across their face, "Your Decepticon stink is making it hard to work."

Crucible's heavy armor lifted slightly, and he slowly lifted his helm, blinking a few times as his concentration-haze faded away slightly. Oh. He had company, then? Turning slightly, he lowered his shoulder and looked over it at Soundwave, then to Spade. "Ah, hello. Uhm- people don't usually take requests phrased as insults," he noted, and paused for a moment longer, watching Soundwave.   
Soundwave lifted a servo slightly in greeting to Crucible, who he slightly liked, but completely ignored Spade. He'd been called much, much worse. Leaning back slightly (which, though he wouldn't realize it, put him out of Spade's field of view at this angle), he cocked his helm and looked Crucible up and down, content with the situation. Mostly. He would have appreciated less glaring.   
"I'm just working on a sword. You're welcome to watch, but I'm focusing, I probably won't hear anything you ask," Crucible declared, turning back to his work, and stuck the metal back into the forge again. Not his own forge- that wasn't active right now. Not big enough, not in his root mode, for this to be efficient. Instead, he was using a custom-built forge as big as his whole frame, its hot glow surrounding him in a halo of orange, its opening aimed slightly away from him to spare his optics. Once the metal was much hotter, as he needed it to be, he drew it back out with a pair of tongs and began to hammer it again. The anvil was another piece of furniture, slightly odd-shaped but perfectly flat on top, one he'd made himself. Not the neatest, but it was serviceable. And the hammer, well- that was all him for the first few blows, one of his servos transformed into a large sledgehammer, then he transformed it back into a servo to pick up a smaller hammer for slightly more delicate work.

 

"Scalene bitch," Spade mumbled, shaking their helm. At least he was out of their sight now, but the idea of him still being in the room set them on edge. They turned back to Crucible and continued the drawing. It was quickly turning into a painting, which Spade liked less and less by the second. Somewhere along the line they'd ruined it. Great. Bet it was the purple people eater's fault. They shook their helm again and cleared the file without saving. Their one solace, nothing remained of their artistic mistakes-no evidence left and they were sure. When they looked up again and tried drawing something stopped them, it was gone, whatever it was that had made Crucible such a good subject. There was another thing siphoning their attention. No. Ugh. Really?  
Spade's propellers clattered together in irritation, their optics flitting to the Decepticon in the room. They were reasonably sure they could get a fairly good likeness. After all the mech was mostly straight lines anyway. Strange but... aesthetically pleasing proportions. They adjusted the grip on their stylus. They couldn't pass up the opportunity, especially when the mech was sitting so still. They hunched even further over their datapad, stealing glances every few seconds. A few minutes later and they'd managed a few quick, very minimalist gestures. Great, excellent, it was going splendidly, Fuck. They were right, these were coming out pretty good and they hated it. Now thoroughly warmed up, they cleared the file again and began anew, working slower this time, using what they'd learned from the gestures. Maybe this time they'd have something worthy of saving.

 

Hm. Soundwave had never been insulted in a way involving the word "scalene". Creative! But Soundwave didn't respond, aside from filing away the recording of the insult. He'd rather focus on Crucible, on the steady shift of the stocky mech's shoulders and back as his arm rose and fell, on how the glowing metal on the anvil shifted. He didn't know much about forging like this, very few did, but he didn't need to know. It was much more pleasant to watch quietly and try to predict how the metal would be shifted than to focus on a bot who didn't seem inclined to do anything other than mildly insult him.   
Crucible continued until the metal was stretched into a long shape and just beginning to look like a sword, then set it aside to cool and stretched. Interesting to watch, his back plating sliding over itself as his shoulder mechanisms shifted. Arching his back to loosen himself up, he clicked his treads against his back, momentarily stretching the grasping arm usually wrapped around his waist like a belt, then turned around to study his guests more firmly. Spade, hm- Spade looked busy. Best not to interrupt. Soundwave looked... better than he had last night! Bandaged up, but awake and alert, still not moving. Typical for Soundwave, from what Crucible knew- no unnecessary motions. He wasn't bleeding visibly, didn't look panicked or even remotely stressed, just... sat and watched. It could have been creepy, but the firelight glinting off his visor and his plating cast what was, to Crucible, a friendly light, and he hardly seemed to be in any mood to threaten anyone.

As the ringing sound of hammer against hot steel died off, Spade took a pause. They'd... gotten lost in the rendering. They looked up and squinted in Crucible's direction. The glowing lump of metal was now significantly more sword-shaped... how did he...? Of course they'd miss it being distracted by Soundwave. They shook their helm and looked down again. The length of time had actually been spent well, that was a distinct rendering. A sweet little thought crossed their mind, nobody in espionage liked the idea of a candid image. They wondered if Soundwave had picked up on what they were doing. With a satisfied flick of their thumb, they saved the image into one of their protected folders, ejected the datacard and placed it neatly into a little compartment hidden in a hollow part of their arm plating. One of many.   
Spade turned to look at the mech, disdainful but self-satisfied look plastered over their face. They wondered if Soundwave remembered them. They'd been sure to scrub the database. They'd even changed as much of their paint as they could, though it was returning back to its original color-not that that was recorded during their time as a Decepticon either. They'd been exceedingly careful since day one. The allure of being a spy was nothing compared to their sense of self preservation. They knew going in that espionage was a deadly business and planned accordingly, always covering their tracks, always thinking ahead. It's not like they'd ever met him face-to-face either. Even their orders were passed down through a few different liaisons, never in Soundwave's own words, never directed to them by name.  
Though, of course, there always was a chance something had slipped through. Spade had come to terms with the reality of data leakage the hard way. Nothing and nobody was perfect, not even they.  
It was with a delightfully smug aire that they hopped off the table, datapad in-servo, and went to go look at what Crucible had done, "I always liked swords, they have a certain way about them, much more... personal."

As Spade moved, Soundwave shifted his gaze behind his visor, watching them. They looked somewhat familiar. Someone very much like them was in a file somewhere, but the firelight made it hard to get the best image of them. Still, he took a few snaps, to compare to his files later. He had too many faces to remember, even with his secondary processor. Had to focus on just the important ones. This bot wasn't ringing any bells in particular, therefore they probably weren't someone he really needed to recognize. Nor did they seem terribly threatening. Merely... dickish.  
"-hm- oh, yes," Crucible muttered, turning to pick up the metal. This time, despite it still glowing red, he used his servos instead of the tongs, with no sign of any discomfort. He didn't have too many surface sensors anymore, and they'd always been heat-hardy sensors anyway. "I already have my hammers, but I need something more effective against the more heavily-armored feral Insecticons. They're surprisingly resistant to having their helms smashed in. This... does seem to want to be a sword, now. I thought it might be an axe at first, but it's definitely going towards sword," he mused, hefting the metal lightly in both servos, then glanced to Spade again. "Not that I think the metal is alive. It's just a... feeling of sorts. Specific pieces of metal seem to be more, ah, colloquially willing to go in different directions. That, and you have to be careful of faults. This is very good metal, no faults anywhere, should hold an edge well. I can tell you, though- the temps this stuff needs are high even for me," he chuckled, shifting his servos on the metal to give them an instant of a break from the temperature. Though he wasn't showing it, this arms-length piece of metal was right at the edge of what he could comfortably hold, almost too hot to touch. "A lot of the softer, more decorative metals would have turned to liquid by now. Don't, ah- don't touch any of this, it's all set up for me. I can take the heat. Anyway- this is a billet. A piece of metal that's all ready to shape, essentially. I have to get it out into a more blade-like shape, then harden the metal, then sharpen the edge. It's not a sword yet, but it's a lot closer to being one than before."  
He'd gone right into teaching mode, though he didn't quite notice it, and his voice was almost businesslike as he handled the metal. The length of metal was about as long as his arm at the moment, fairly wide, showing a point at the tip and the beginnings of where the handle would be. It still had to be flattened and shaped further, the edge formed, and the handle worked more into shape, but it looked something like a sword. "Heh. Right now it's more of a stick than a sword, though."

 

Spade nodded and watched with tempered interest- couldn't come off that excited. They got as close as they could to the heat, closer than the average bot might get. After all what was a forge to the desert in midday? (hotter but not by much). Looking the billet up and down they cocked their helm slightly, "Feral Insecticons, huh, always thought the best way to deal with em would be some kind of hooked thing- yank the armor so you could get to the good parts. Then, I suppose, slash. Though I'm not sure how close you wanna get to one, nasty bugs," they shrugged, "aaand what do I know, not that I could fight one."  
Spade looked around a bit. They wanted to see what Crucible was doing better but there were no chairs this close, not that they could reasonably use the chairs in there without being positively engulfed. There wasn't even a wall to lean on anywhere near enough. At last they spotted a relatively-tall looking chair they were reasonably sure they could perch from with no issues. Well, on second thought two issues exactly. The first was that the thing looked heavy, far too much for their own power and the second was that it was situated all-too-close to Decepticon posterboy. They weren't afraid of the mech, they just didn't like him. Despite their dislike, another bot would not stop them from getting what they wanted.  
With a huff, Spade walked with purpose over to the chair, grabbed the bottom and gave it a hard tug. The resulting loud, harsh screech was enough to make them heavily disinclined to try again. So be it. "Surprising, I think I hate that noise even more than I hate you," they said to nobody in particular save for Soundwave, climbing up into the seat. A hop to the arm and then a quick pull to the top of the back and they were sitting again, hunched forward. They subspaced their datapad and set to watching Crucible, their servos clasped together, thumbs already circling around each other. This, they admitted, was a much better view.

"Hm, that can work, but with enough strength you don't need to borrow moving the armor. Or- and this applies only to the feral ones, mind- they'll impale themselves rather handily if you give them the chance. You just have to be durable enough to put up with whatever parts of them can reach you at the end of their charge. I'm heavy and durable enough for resisting an Insecticon charge to be an option if I- oh, you're moving," Crucible noticed, and leaned over the anvil slightly in order to stretch further, shifting everything around after too long staying in one place.   
Soundwave twitched slightly at the terrible noise and aimed a glare down at the chair feet, then turned his attention back to Crucible. Who was bent over the anvil in what could have been a rather tempting pose, if he'd been to Soundwave's taste. Somehow didn't seem to notice, either. Feeling vaguely playful, he played a recording of someone wolf-whistling, cocking his helm in mimicry of a wink when Crucible turned to look.   
"Oh- yes, yes, thank you," Crucible muttered, winglets quirking up, but didn't cut off his stretching at a little teasing. Accidental suggestiveness or not. "Hush, you, I'm stretching. Do you want me to snap something, hm? Sassy thing. Surprisingly smart-aft for someone so lanky. Don't have much aft to be smart with," he replied, and picked up the metal again, looking it over before sticking it in the forge. "You're just making faces at everyone from back there, aren't you? What'd you do to Spade, anyway?"   
Soundwave glanced at Spade, then rolled his shoulder in a shrug, turning his attention away from the smaller bot. Nothing, that he knew of. Maybe he'd killed someone Spade liked. He'd killed, or been responsible for the deaths of, a lot of people. Pit- he'd been chased after by someone who'd taken over the role, appearance, and even personality of someone he'd killed. Weird. Considerably weirder than being called geometry-related insults.

pade scoffed, "what self-respecting Autobot would play nice with the Decepticon third? A better question is what didn't he do to me." It only occurred to them afterward they weren't wearing their autobrand. Not that it was something they wore all the time, they didn't have Salvo's dedication, for reasons they kept to themself. It was a special occasions thing, a 'I'm seeing a lot of people and need to give a certain impression' thing. It was definitely not a 'put on before leaving the room in a great fuss just to keep up appearances' thing. So they were a bit of a hypocrite. Most of the statement was a lie anyway. They were fairly sure the ship was mostly Autobots anyway and was friendly enough to entertain the mech. Plus, they didn't really have the energy to hate anything anymore, all of it was spent currently on self-preservation. They were much too tired, but in deference to their old self, they couldn't pass up the opportunity to smack talk their old boss to his face.   
The latter part was true, though, Spade thought. He hadn't done anything and that was the problem. There was nothing personal in the world of espionage, except when it came to upwards of fifty received extradition requests that went unanswered. How impersonal could it be when you realized that you were so completely worthless to the cause that you weren't ever going to be retrieved? How impersonal were their ignored reports of Trail's suspicious activity? Course it didn't matter until he acted. Soundwave had done nothing, as far as they knew he'd simply trashed their requests and focused on more important players. Not that they probably wouldn't have done the same thing in the same situation. Nothing personal, until it's about you.   
Spade glared down at Soundwave again for good measure, this time with feeling.

"An Autobot who never disagreed with the Decepticon ideals, just the methods. Or one who doesn't think Soundwave in particular is a bad person. Or one who's willing to forgive everything short of sparkling murder in the interest of peace. Possibly some combination thereof," Crucible shrugged, and turned slightly, presenting his shoulder to Spade. He had a badge, but not an Autobot one- something entirely different. A very stylized hammer which, though he wouldn't have known, somewhat resembled some Norse designs. "Look- I'm not gonna tell you how to feel. But this ship- we want peace. We want a chance at rebuilding Cybertron, and doing it properly this time, without the things that rotted it in the first place. Soundwave... he agrees. He's helped us out with a lot of things. Besides that, he is... pragmatic. He's not cruel. I can forgive a certain degree of ruthless pragmatism when there's no malice involved. You are quite welcome to dislike him all you want, and call him... assorted creative things. But I do ask that you refrain from outright threats or outright violence. Especially given that he's not just a guest, but an injured guest. And a carrier at that," he commented, voice soft, turning back to his work. Evidently not realizing he'd spilled a bit of a secret. He was deep in creativity mode, voice stuck in teacher-tone, quiet and relaxed. Not really thinking about what was and wasn't supposed to be kept quiet.(edited)  
Soundwave hid any outward reaction, but glared at Crucible from behind his visor, somewhat annoyed. He hadn't been meaning to share a potential vulnerability. But... that was Crucible. He talked when he was in this headspace, and sometimes he talked a bit too much. Occasional bits of gossips about people's interface lives, mostly. And, at the moment, Soundwave had more visible vulnerabilities than "especially does not want to be kicked in the stomach now". A more effective tactic than targeting his stomach, which he could easily guard, would be to go at his injured back and leg.   
In fact... Soundwave was starting to like the idea of spreading this patch of information intentionally. Watch for responses. He no longer intended to even remotely keep up the ploy of Laserbeak being a drone that had worked in some areas- she was a person and would be treated as such whenever he had a say in it. And he had many says in it. Besides, it was going to be obvious soon enough that he'd been carrying. Namely, when he was no longer carrying and was instead wrangling a young symbiote. The ship might be, in fact, a good place to stay for a little while. Safety in numbers.  
In the meantime, thoughts from Spade? Soundwave turned his helm slightly, full-on staring at Spade now, and let his bio-lights flicker the slightest bit. Not a friendly or unfriendly gesture, just a gesture.

Spade managed an amused side-glance at Soundwave, "Carrying huh? Did Megatron have anything to do with it? I'd say it'd have to be Starscream's if I weren't reasonably certain he'd be dead of stupidity by now."   
They'd never admit it but there was something distressing about being looked at directly, especially by someone like Soundwave. Spade lived under-pede, worked on the periphery, existed unseen. Nobody was supposed to look directly at a surveillance drone for this long. They were supposed to be the one looking. What compounded the horrible feeling was the fact they'd chosen to meet his attention with their own. They held their gaze for as long as was socially appropriate and scoffed, shaking their head as they returned to watching Crucible. Their field stayed consistent the entire time, a result of too many hours of training. They knew their tells: a slight flicker of the optics and a vocal tremor. The optics they couldn't do much for, save for blinking and that was an even bigger tell. Lucky for them, though, they didn't have to speak. They just hunched over, putting their elbows on their thighs and grinned as they waited for their frame to calm down.   
A few silent moments passed and they let out a knowing hum, "Suppose it could be Shockwave's too, I'd bet that ugly bastard is still kicking. He's your type too, yanno, purple. Should start up a betting pool or something."

 

Soundwave scoffed audibly, vaguely insulted, and lit up his visor in large enough letters for Spade to easily read. [Interface with Starscream: high probability of audial damage, claw gashes, general annoyance.]   
Really- Starscream? Ugh. Any physical attractiveness he might have had going for him was outweighed by that voice, and by a personality that made Soundwave want to lock him out of everywhere. Megatron- hm. Not like he hadn't considered it. Shockwave... hm. Frame wasn't bad, personality was... almost nonexistent, but not objectionable. There were worse bots to proposition. But, really- 'purple' was not his type. He did not have a fetish for the Decepticon cause, thank you. He'd known a bot or two who did, but he did not.  
Now... the lack of realization about... hm. It still surprised him that people didn't seem to register he was a symbiote host. Or... maybe it was because they didn't know how symbiotes were made. Regardless, Soundwave kept his gaze on Spade for a little while longer, then, slowly, turned his helm away. Okay. Spade didn't like being watched. Spade moved like a spy. Spies in particular did not like being watched. Continuing to stare, to hold the smaller bot trapped in his gaze, was a gesture of power. Releasing Spade was... not quite submission, but it was a deliberate gesture that he wasn't trying to be in power here. Let the spy be a spy, make it a gesture of peace. Contemplate which side this spy could have been on. Was he angry about one of Soundwave's counterintelligence measures, or had he not gotten the support he wanted? Soundwave had tried to be good to his spies, but there was a limit to what he could do to protect them, especially the ones he was barely aware of. There was a war on- he'd had to be pragmatic. He'd have to consult his files later and figure out who this was.   
So, hm. Soundwave watched Spade out of the edge of his optic, careful not to look as though he were watching, and thought for a moment longer. Moving slowly, he reached into subspace and withdrew a data-pad, on which was an updated map of the galaxy as he currently knew it. Including Cybertronian outposts, with notes on inhabitants and what was or wasn't safe. Grasping the data-pad firmly in one cable, he extended it out to Spade, dropping it on the chair in easy reach, then withdrew. Still not looking at Spade.   
Consider that, and the lack of staring, a peace offering. Spies liked information -really, anyone did- and that was information. He kept multiple copies of this to give to different people.

 

That continued look... that was certainly deliberate. He must've figured out then, Spade thought, having spotted Soundwave's helm finally turning away. They weren't too surprised, difficult to hide when someone who's looking for tells finds none, and Soundwave should know his own. It was only a matter of time until he figured out who they were, then. Knowing what they'd heard of the mech, he'd consult his database, the one they'd been so eager to help maintain, and the one they'd erased their profile from. Good luck, boss- ex boss.  
Spade's attention broke when they heard the gentle fwump of the datapad on the chair cushion. They looked down, then looked back at Soundwave, then looked down again. A gift, they didn't expect. That was... hmm. They climbed down and grabbed the pad, the slightest twitch of a frown crossed their face for an instant. It was a map. It was... a very good map at that. Normally they would be thrilled, and they were excited, partially. It was hard to deny what you were built for. However, it was almost alarming, the casual invocation of their constructed skill, almost threatening. So then, Soundwave knew exactly who they were. That was fast.  
Yet he still offered them this. Something they liked on a personal level, regardless of their Decepticon record. That was definitely something. They poured over the map, leaning to sit down after a few moments standing. They remember following their dropship's course. They'd passed a few notable star systems which were... they scrolled around the map a bit, eventually getting their bearings. Yes, there. Follow those down, zoom in, zoom in and... There it was. A tiny twin- star in an otherwise barren part of the galaxy, Exolus. They zoomed in further. There was their planet, third in line from the dominant star. They hummed slightly, they'd seen their observation of Exolus-3's moon had gone through. But it seemed they'd forgotten to update the database with the information that the system had, in fact, five planetoids and two returning comets. That they'd found with Aphelion's help.  
Spade cleared their throat and tilted the datapad in Soundwave's direction, "Your map's incomplete. There are five planets in this system, not just three. It may also be worth noting there are two comets in regular orbits around the twin stars." Their voice was toned down, more polite than before. It was only customary to offer information in exchange.

It had worked. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing someone take his- well, it wasn't bait, in this case, but the principle stood. He had come up with something that would likely be of interest, and it had been.   
Soundwave had never been what one would call charismatic, but he had figured out a reasonable formula for getting someone to, at least, dislike him less. First, adopt a neutral position, with minimal staring. Watch, helm tilted enough to make it clear that he could see, but no staring. Second, peace offering. Gifts of maps seemed to work particularly well, everyone liked to know where they were. Third, attempt to at least slightly interact. Social beings in general tended to dislike someone less after neutral-to-positive interactions.   
Spade responding back was the beginning of an interaction. Excellent. Soundwave moved his helm very slightly, enough to clearly see Spade without looking like he was full-on staring, and considered the 'pad for a moment before nodding once. [Noted. More data required. Make edits, initiate data transfer. Edits: will appear on master console. Soundwave: will confirm, update all maps. Accurate data: vital.]  
Well. If that wasn't a backwater system, he didn't know what was. But that narrowed down who this could be considerably. A spy, stationed on Exolus. That... that was something he could work with. Giving in to his curiosity, Soundwave spent the energy needed to remotely access his databanks, letting himself go through his systems. His private databanks. The ones with the blackmail material and the data on every spy and spy-adjacent he knew of. Those, nobody touched, or even knew about. He had other things, too- everything from classified data on weaknesses of Decepticon powerhouses to exploit if they ever became an issue, to. Well. Nostalgic files. Old footage of Megatronus and Orion Pax. A few of Optimus Prime's speeches, to enjoy his voice. Footage of Soundwave's symbiotes. No one touched his private databanks.   
Specifically because of things like this. With the planet name input, it was easy enough to figure out exactly who he was interacting with. And to confirm that this bot was not in his main files. Clever. But... not quite clever enough.   
Who kept only one copy of their data on spies, and let other spies access it? Dead mechs, that was who.   
Helm cocking and mischief glinting through his field for an instant, Soundwave pulled up an old image of Spade on his visor, typing [found you] across it. Then, after a moment for Spade to register that, scrolling down slightly. To the point where it said, in very large letters, "contact lost. presumed dead or defected."   
Evidently, defected. Or he was talking to a hallucination, but Crucible had responded to Spade as well, so that was unlikely.

Spade shook their helm and let their optics flick to Crucible. They hadn't been looking at him, it would have been less than ideal if he'd seen. Secrets don't exactly stay secrets forever but that doesn't mean one shouldn't try. He seemed to be just working at this point but... one could never be too sure. They returned their gaze to the datapad and with one servo added in the additional information and with the other began to sign, a kind of shorthand, "Keep to yourself." Once finished signing they spoke, "There was a pretty-involved campaign on that one planet, but it turned out it had no strategic advantage so it was abandoned. Love it when the Autobots and Decepticons decide to compare spike sizes and then run. We seemed to come out on top though." They smirked, not Autobots 'we,' not Decepticons 'we,' the Choir 'we,' not that they'd elaborate, "I don't think anyone bothered to look at the area beforehand, either, which is why almost everybody died. It was a massive failure on both sides, so much so they seem to have forgotten it."  
Spade moved their servo away to check their work. There were added notes of the two other planets, approximations of where the comets would be, and something else. They added a small description to the sand planet, describing it slightly with warnings about the planet's electromagnetic field and hostile native population. Underneath all that was a short memorial of sorts: The site of the unknown campaign of Exolus-3. May those thousands who perished there, forgotten, find peace. They sighed deeply and brought up the datapad's internal console to submit it to whatever remote server it was getting its information from. They weren't sentimental, not as much as some of their friends, but they'd seen too many mangled frames, too many partial faces they'd tried to reconstruct to keep the database updated. How many mechs died completely unknown to their comrades, they could never say. This was the least they could do.  
A few minutes of wrangling security protocols and Spade had done it, possibly not the way Soundwave intended but done all the same. Now that both their servos were free, they glanced back at Crucible to make sure he wasn't looking and began to sign again in earnest, "I didn't appreciate being abandoned."

 

Soundwave didn't even need to look over at Crucible. He could hear the steady pounding of the hammer, Crucible was busy. He was focusing too much to even think of spying. Not that he was prone to snooping anyway.   
A quick check to be sure Spade hadn't put anything ridiculous in, then Soundwave let the data through. He'd go over that later, and if it made sense with the other data he had (which was likely- his file listed that this bot was a mapmaker, they didn't like to lie about maps), he'd upload it to all the currently active maps. And, just in case, the map server was isolated from everything else. It was remotely connected to all the other maps, but none of his other data, in case someone tried to use one of the maps as a way in to hack something. The worst they could do was scramble the map data, in which case he'd simply update it again from a backup. Isolate everything from everything else, connected only by any physical interactions. Couldn't hack everything else if the only connection between the map console and his main systems was him, typing.  
As for this disaster? That wasn't on him. He hadn't been responsible for literally every operation, even the ones with spies- they'd had tacticians for that. As for Spade, Soundwave highlighted and flickered the "presumed dead or defected" again, an answer in and of itself. The Decepticon cause wouldn't survive chasing down and checking on everyone who went out of contact, especially on planets with massive death tolls. It wasn't exactly one of his favorite parts of his job, marking off Decepticon spies as presumed lost because they'd gone out of contact, but what else was he supposed to do? Soundwave shook his helm slightly, turning to fully face Spade and display his visor again. People didn't tend to read it so much as staring if they were looking at something, instead of having the blank visor fixed on them. [Abandonment: not ideal. Only practical option. Spade: assumed dead or not wanting to be recovered. Attempted recovery of body, pursuit of defector: waste of resources, time. Too dangerous, given death reports. Apologies. Question; Spade: would have preferred self and team be located by Decepticon soldiers, with soldiers given warning of possible defection?]  
A potentially defected spy, surrounded by a ragtag band of Autobots? Not someone any sort of Decepticon soldier would be inclined to treat gently.   
Not that Soundwave exactly knew the timeline of things.

A flicker of annoyance passed through Spade's optics. They briefly closed their servo into a fist but let it go quick enough. They grit their dentae behind their faceplate and continued, "Sixty-four extraction requests. I sent sixty-four over the course of three years. Thirteen reports of suspicious handler activity, all ignored. I didn't defect for those, no. I even kept providing location data, even when the Decepticons attacks stopped. I kept doing my fucking job because I thought I meant something. And then my handler tried to kill me. Almost succeeded too." They paused, a hint of anger breaking through their impenetrable wall of a field. They shook their helm, closing their optics and taking a deep breath before they continued, "You know who pulled for me? The Autobots -the ones I was routinely laying open for attack, the ones who I had a significant hand in sending to their doom- they caught him and get this- they didn't kill him. They disarmed him and exiled him and set watch while I recovered so he couldn't come back and finish the job. How's that for loyalty?"  
Spade sighed and leaned back in their seat, "I didn't defect until Trail did that, not that it matters anymore. There's nothing to be done. You can't change the past and I can't blame you for prioritizing the more important fronts. The only reason I'm telling you all this is cause when I was lying in the berth, recovering from a stab wound that was a fingertip's width away from slicing my spark in two, I told myself if I ever got the chance to do so in person I'd tell you to go fuck yourself."

 

Soundwave's optics narrowed behind his visor, because that didn't make sense. If he had to leave one of his operatives on their own, he told them that. Warned them that, for whatever reason, he couldn't grant their request. Told them where the nearest safe place was they could go to, if they got out on their own. After all, they risked everything for him and the Cause, and he was pragmatic. Not sparkless. So he listened, but he worked at the same time, sorting through the reports in Spade's file.   
By the time Spade finished, Soundwave had his answer. A slight duck of his helm and a quiet recording of "acknowledged", then his visor lit up again, showing the list. Location data, yes. Extraction requests, handler reports, no. And, though he didn't know, there were a few miscellaneous reports missing. Probably from assorted signal interference. [File: contains every received report. Trail: intelligent. Thorough. Soundwave: would have responded. Considered extraction. If extraction: impossible, would have sent warning. Pragmatism: does not entirely banish loyalty.]  
A moment's pause, then [Animosity: noted. Accepted.]  
Hm. He probably wouldn't be able to get Spade to like him, then. Tolerance seemed to be a possibility, though. He could work with annoyed tolerance. It wasn't dangerous, after all. Spade could be pissed at him all they wanted, but he did at least want to be clear about what had happened, and that he hadn't intentionally abandoned Spade. He would much rather at least have warned Spade that they were on their own.

Spade's optics widened considerably. They hadn't considered the possibility Trail had been intercepting their messages. They'd been very careful to do it when he was asleep, outside on the rare clear nights. It never occurred to them that the mech could have messed with their private transmitter at some point completely unbeknownst to them. He'd always seemed too hot-headed, too easily readable for that level of trickery. They thought they knew Trail. Then again, he was a spy. Clearly then, a much better spy than they were if that were the case. There was also the possibility Soundwave was lying, that he had received the messages and simply deleted them, choosing not to care about a small player on a remote failure of a planet. It certainly wouldn't be very hard, face behind a mask, no voice, no field. They didn't know which version of the story they preferred.   
When Spade had imagined this exact confrontation in the hundreds of years that passed marooned on a hell planet with a bunch of people they'd personally hurt, it didn't go this way. Soundwave was violent, yelling at them, or they were violent, pulling the blade that almost took their life from its holster in the back of their leg and stabbing it through his hand or his helm. They usually won in their imagination, it was satisfying. It... was never like this. He seemed entirely unfazed by their presence, not angry, and... almost apologetic, almost. And here they were communicating through sign because they weren't even alone in the room with him.  
Spade looked away, tapping their forehelm softly, they had a lot to think about. They looked back to address Soundwave again, "I don't know what I expected. There's no way to confirm your story and I don't know if I'm inclined to believe you without proof." They didn't want to think about the alternative: having to search through their frame for some foreign transmission blocker that was placed there multiple millennia ago that they didn't know existed. Worse-case scenario it was somewhere in their processor next to their relay to the Decepticon spy database. Who knows what else Trail might have done to them if he had gotten that far? Their entire frame may be suspect.   
"This was a mistake," they said out loud at last.

 

Soundwave was definitely winning this encounter. He didn't need Spade to believe him- all the information he had was out, after all. Now... what were those emotions? Making sure he was recording this for later study, he shifted so that his entire frame faced Spade, starting to lean forward over the arm of the chair. It was a very comfortable chair, but he was curious. More than that, this was a safe place, he could be free to be curious. So far, Spade hadn't been anything like threatening to him. Pissed off, understandably, but not violent. So... time to investigate further.   
Crucible registered something about a mistake, and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see, well. Soundwave, perched carefully on the arm of the chair like an intrigued cat, as close to Spade as he could get without touching the floor or being precarious. "Oh- goodness. He's done that again, I see. Soundwave is an interesting one, isn't he? He relaxes a bit on the ship, since none of us are about to do anything unpleasant to him, and he actually starts getting expressive. And perching in strange places. It's like having a cat! A potentially... very deadly cat. Who brings you maps and information instead of mice. Anyway, it looks like the two of you are getting along reasonably well, hm? Good!"   
Soundwave watched as Crucible went back to his work, not quite sure how he felt about being referred to as a cat, and eventually decided that it was probably good. Crucible definitely liked him. Granted, Crucible liked most people. Regardless of what he was being called, Soundwave wasn't deterred- he was going to perch right here, watch Spade, and try to figure out what their emotions were doing. And maybe prompt a response from them.  
A soft chattering noise, and Laserbeak popped off of Soundwave's chassis to fly away, surveying the whole room in a couple of quick loops before going to perch on a cabinet. She'd leave Soundwave to his inspection, and whatever else he wanted to do.

Spade stood up as Soundwave moved forward but did not back away. They were optic-level with the mech's visor. Adrenaline doused their frame as they were once again presented with the challenge of direct observation. Their thoughts were a blur, assembling a plan with lightning speed. They could test whether their comms to the spy database were being intercepted. They'd need to be quick, with perfect timing, and enough daring to pull it off. It was only a matter of survival after all was said and done, though in the case that their test proved wrong, they didn't think they minded mortality.  
They began with a casual observation, giving Soundwave a look, "Catlike indeed." Then they did something they didn't think they would do again. Raising their left arm close to their chassis, palm facing towards them, they drew their thumb and middle finger of their right servo from the outside of their elbow up through their wrist. They could feel a slight static of their relay chip coming online again for the first time in centuries, activated by the specific sensory input of the gesture. Their optics flickered a bit as they made the connection to the database. It would be easily spottable from Soundwave's distance and likely something he could parse, this was amenable. Their frame was perfectly still as they composed the message, even forgoing the standard cipher, "[I am armed. I will kill your sparkling]." Short, sweet, should provoke a reaction. They sent it, waiting for the message received ping. As it arrived, they let their arms fall down to their sides and opened another connection, this time to the address of the map server they'd used before. It took a bit of time before they properly got in. They composed a different message this time, ensuring that the protocols allowed it to be read automatically "[I will strike at your throat. I intend no harm. Do not flinch]"  
One command, one command on a hair's trigger Spade could send. They set a timer instead, delivering the message after a certain time. One and a half seconds? Should be enough time to account for latency.   
In a lightning-fast, fluid motion, they executed the code and kicked back their pede. A sizeable dagger jumped, spring-loaded out of their lower leg, landing hilt-first directly in their servo. They took a step forward and lunged directly for Soundwave's throat, the point of the dagger several harmless inches away. As they got to full extension, they felt the ping of a 'message sent' notification.

Hm. Spade was- comming someone, perhaps, or- given the situation, probably checking to see if there was anything in the way. Given the data, Soundwave expected it might be a reroute function, or might simply be set up to intercept messages with certain keywords. That would make the most sense, seeing as how it looked like he'd been getting the non-extraction-request messages for some t-  
There was definitely a response. Tiny, but present- every cable in Soundwave's body tensed a fraction, and his bio-lights, formerly a reasonable brightness that indicated a casual interaction, shut off entirely. The bright spot over his chassis went dark, and did not light again, regardless of the additional message. That was a threat. A confusing threat. Was Soundwave's visible interest really enough to make Spade-  
He had no idea what was happening here. Soundwave didn't like not knowing what was happening. Moreover, he didn't trust Spade with something like this. A controlled adrenaline response sent his processor speed skyrocketing, and Soundwave was already moving as the dagger came out, entire frame shifting backwards. He knew how far Spade could reach. One arm came up, and, in the same motion, both cables lashed out lightning-fast. The tip of the dagger glanced off a suddenly extended blade, and his cables wrapped tight around Spade's frame, especially around their upper body and shoulders, locking their arms firmly in place.   
Spade was small. Easily lifted. Soundwave squeezed warningly, making his strength known, then lifted Spade slightly, held them firmly, and continued to stare. A threat, the most dire threat anyone could make against him, followed by simultaneous reassurance and attack. Possibly a fake attack, but- the threat. Had it been against him, Soundwave might have been inclined to simply put himself out of easy reach. The threat to his sparkling meant he wasn't going to let Spade loose until he figured out what was going on.  
Really- did Spade expect Soundwave to hold still and let a near-stranger stab at him? Holding the smaller bot firmly but not tightly enough to cause any damage, he locked their arm more firmly in place and set about prying their fingers away from the dagger with his clawtips, pulling up both messages on his visor. Specifically, with [EXPLAIN] flashing over them. Was it meant to be a threat, or not? There were easier ways to check for message blocking than this. He could have killed them! One cable was already wrapped once around their throat, his combined cables had more than enough strength to crush Spade's frame, or a quick plunge of his blade into Spade's chassis would do the trick. Far before Crucible could interfere. Besides- all he'd have to do was show the threat to his sparkling. It was more than self-defense, wasn't it, if that was presented without context?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey- if you happen to be reading this, and you find any chunks where it looks like something is missing, let me know.  
> Un-formatted and un-nice-made from this point on because that's Just Too Much. May go back and edit it later.

Spade tensed at being picked up and could hardly find their mind enough to speak as Soundwave's datacables wrapped around them. At the first insistence of his claws, they dropped their dagger. It bounced slightly off the arm of the chair and clattered to the floor. They could barely hold their composure. Their frame shook from a heavy mixture of adrenaline, fear, and anger, yet their voice remained calm, "You lied. You can't pretend to give a flying fuck about your agents and then  _ lie. _ Or I guess you can, mister spymaster, you can do whatever you  _ fucking _ want." their voice began to break slightly as the anger finally got to them, "You wanna kill me for that? Fine. Do it. I'm clearly dirt to you now, though I wonder if you'd ever thought of someone like me as more than that in the first place." 

They didn't struggle against Soundwave's grip, they didn't move at all save for the tremors racing through their limbs, "I wasn't going to hurt you, not that I think I could. Knife's barely sharp anyway and I'm not made for combat. It was a test. A successful test." They chuckled slightly, without a hint of mirth, "I'm almost relieved. I guess this is better than taking myself apart piece by piece until I figured out every horrifying thing that bastard did to me. I can live with, or die from, a lying spy. Though it begs the question, what lies have you been telling the rest of this crew? How little do you think of  _ them?" _

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

Well then. Soundwave cocked his helm slightly, settling back into the chair, and lowered Spade enough to set their pedes on the floor. He didn't let go, though. What were they so upset about? He definitely wasn't lying. 

Hm. Spade was trembling. Soundwave was holding a small bot in his cables, he could  _ feel _ the shaking, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it at  _ all _ . Some of that was likely the hormones, and he was aware of himself, but... he still didn't like it. Carefully drawing Spade closer, he lifted his captive and set them on the arm of the chair, catching their face in one servo so they couldn't look away from him. What, exactly...

Ah. Clearly, they'd come to a different conclusion than he had. And, just for this, he forewent his usual 'vocal' patterns in favor of typing. [ _ Spade. Did you not think that your messages might be filtered, instead of outright blocked? I suspect most reports were allowed through, to prevent you simply going out of contact, while blocking anything your traitor did not want sent. I did not lie. If I wanted to lie, I would have said that I never got any of your messages, or that I got a report you were dead. Now. I respect this ship's owner, and I respect its rules. But _ ] another firm, warning squeeze [ _ if you threaten my children again, bluff or not, you will not survive to explain yourself. That includes Laserbeak. You will respect her, you will respect my next, or I will kill you. I do not care what you threaten to do to me, but I will treat all threats to them as genuine. Am I clear? _ ]

There was no way he wasn't clear. So, after a moment, he loosened his grip a fraction -not enough to let Spade free, but enough that they could move slightly and it was comfortable- and... tried to be calming. It didn't work so well, though, because the first thing that came to mind for "calm small bot" was "stroke audial fins and scritch back of helm". This was not a symbiote, but the fear tugged at his hormone-laced spark as if Spade  _ was _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

"Crystal," Spade managed, no matter how thorough their training was, how good they were at staying calm, at lying, they couldn't handle the sensation of complete restraint, the threat of death straight to their face. They gasped as they were set down, not quite finding enough peace of mind to catch their breath. Their logic was quickly leaking from their processor. They wanted to leave. They wanted their spark to leave their tainted frame for good. They wanted Soundwave to  _ prove _ he wasn't lying. They wanted to know why their messages weren't answered, why they had almost bled out, left for dead.

Spade closed their optics, shut them tight and tried to imagine they weren't where they were, still being held captive by Soundwave. They wanted to be alone but whatever Trail had done, they may never truly be away from him. They took a shuddering breath and pulled at the edges of their frayed sanity, trying to force their mind together again to form a coherent solution. They could feel a skittering under their plating, almost like fingertips and lost their grip. They wanted it out. They wanted it out  _ now. _ They could feel hot anxiety ignite in their spark and burn its way through their frame. Where was it. Their optics flashed.  _ Where was it. _ Their servo darted to their shoulder plating, gently drawing their fingers underneath it. The feeling was almost sickening. They couldn't feel anything but that didn't mean anything. They needed to see with their own optics.

With an audible grunt Spade began to pull. After a few moments of straining, the plate tore off with a sickening  _ pop. _ Energon dripped down their shoulder as they leaned over to look at the underside. There was nothing, onto the next one.

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

-hm. Pit. Soundwave watched for a moment, somewhere between too curious and too surprised to stop anything, and very slowly unwound most of his cables from Spade's frame. Okay, this? This was far beyond anything he could deal with. He kept ahold of the smaller bot's waist, just enough that they couldn't flee, and-

Well. He wasn't good with helping people, but he knew who  _ was _ . Picking up the torn-off plating, he flicked it at Crucible, hitting the forge-mech square in the back, and started typing an explanation for this. 

 

Crucible made a frankly adorable noise of surprise, but, assuming it had been someone tapping on him, muttered "just a moment!" and took his time with getting everything ready to leave. When he turned and saw no one up close, he immediately looked down in case it had been a minibot, spotted the plating, picked it up-

And hurried over to Spade as fast as he could go. "I-  _ Spade! _ Stop that, honey, what- stop that!" he scolded, shaking his servos to cool them slightly, and shooed Spade's servos away from their shoulder to pinch off the bleeding line. "Spade! What are you doing? I-I don't- Soundwave?" 

 

Fastest explanation possible. [ _ Spade: former Decepticon informant. Betrayed. Traitor: somehow intercepted all requests for assistance, presumably with implanted device. Spade: coping poorly. Likely looking for device. Assistance recommended. _ ] Soundwave provided, and let Spade go entirely, leaving it up to Crucible to fix. There. 

 

"That's- I-I don't- goodness, Spade, that's not the way to do this!" Crucible scolded gently, subspacing the torn plating to focus on Spade, and tried to meet their optics. "Look- you stop doing this, we'll go to the medbay, and we'll scan you to find out if anything is wrong. I'm sure the medics can find it. You certainly aren't going to get at it this way- you're just going to mangle yourself! It's probably deeper than the plating anyway, honey, come on now," he sighed, and tried to steer Spade towards the door, without quite touching him. Gentle shooing motions.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

Spade managed to rip off another shoulder plate as Crucible stepped forward, flinging it to the ground with an annoyed huff. It took a bit to process that there was a frame behind them. They whipped backwards, spotted Crucible's line of sight and followed it to the tail end of Soundwave's message. What had he said? Their plating, what was left of it, bristled as they took a step back, off the edge of the chair's arm and tumbled backwards into the seat. Once they righted themself they scrambled to find some sort of wall to keep their back against and settled on the chair back. Their processor was trying to parse all of the thoughts flying through their panicked mind. Logic, cold and clear, had left their mind entirely. Their thoughts began to push together, to overlap, _ "Lies! _ Whatever he told you he's  _ lying- _ I'm not- I'm  _ infected _ -" they looked down at their frame again, visibly shaking, "It's there, he's there, it's  _ inside _ me?  _ Where Is It. _ " 

Spade grabbed the top of their chassis plate with both servos and began to tug, optics glowing, burning like the last rays of sunset. Their arms trembled as something inside them began to degrade. Their fans were cranked up as high as they could go but heat still shimmered in front of their face. Their strength was beginning to wane, something deep in their coding knew that destroying their chassis plate was one step from the end. On a superficial level, they didn't care. Their grip was failing, their optics began to waver. With one final rally, they pulled down with both servos, cracking their outer plate in two and ripping the inner one a third of the way down the middle. They couldn't do it all the way. The pain caught up to them in a single wave that broke against their helm, their fingers twitched and fell down, they could feel their frame overheating as their processor at last offlined.

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

"Honey, no, that's not going to help- ohh, no, goodness," Crucible muttered, gathering Spade up immediately, then winced slightly and handed them to Soundwave. "Here, please- they're overheating, I shouldn't be holding them right now, I'm hotter than  _ they _ are- come on, we're going to the medbay," he declared, grabbing the other shoulder plate, and set off as fast as he could move. Not the fastest. 

 

Soundwave hadn't been expecting to be handed- well, this whole mess. Regardless, Crucible had a point, so he went with it. Gather Spade up close, cradle their frame against his chassis, hold them with cables and one arm -regardless of the weight- and  _ go _ . This was sort of indirectly his fault, after all, him and his prodding. Ah well- at least this happened now and not somewhere Spade couldn't get any help. Bots who broke like  _ this _ at being poked would inevitably have broken at  _ some _ point, after all, that was a level of stress that didn't just go away. 

.

Crucible knew the shortest route to the medbay from just about anywhere, and, short legs or not, alarm let him move rather fast. Within a few minutes, he was in the medbay, having already sent an emergency COMM ping with no other explanation. "Ohh, goodness- you remember that bot who was convinced he had a listening device somewhere in him, tore himself halfway up? We've got that again, except there probably  _ is _ a bug. Probably going to have to get the restraints out, I'm afraid." 

 

Ow. Pain. Soundwave limped into the medbay with his entire back and leg complaining again, deposited Spade semi-gently on the nearest berth, and limped over to one of the ones in the corner that could be surrounded by a curtain. Slumping down, he tucked himself up into a little ball to watch, Laserbeak lighting on his arm with a series of chirps that only he could hear. May as well see what happened, and someone was probably going to demand an explanation from him at least once. He hadn't done anything! Technically. By some definitions. 

At the very least, it hadn't been  _ intentional _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

Spade drifted in and out of consciousness on the way to the medbay. Each time they came back, they were bombarded by alerts pinging their processor  **[WARNING: frame temperature at unsafe levels] [WARNING: multiple structural instabilities detected]** They felt sick, their arm hurt, their chassis hurt. Then they'd remember the horrifying idea and black out again.

Spade was moderately cogent when Soundwave placed them on the berth. They pulled themself together enough to take a few long(er) vents. With shaking servos they reached to their outer chassis plate, pulling the pieces off fairly easily. There was a rush of energon as they ripped open another line but they had to know-they  _ had _ to find-

Spade froze. Their throat caught. They cocked their helm, averted their optics for a moment and returned them to the bloody piece of their own plating they held in between shaking servos. There was something there. It wasn't a frame-maker's brand, theirs was on the other side of their frame, no. Something was carved in. They couldn't move, they just stared at it for a while, their mind quieting down, making room for a dull, slowly growing terror. It was Trail's signature, located squarely in the middle of the plate. He would have had to take it off all the way without them noticing and then put it back. When did he... Why...  _ How... _

Energon was staining the berth around them, their chassis ached so deeply they thought they'd explode. They could do nothing but stare in abject horror at the name. Their fingertips dug into the plate. They shook violently. They didn't notice any movement around them, optics locked on the signature.

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

"Dear  _ fuck _ , mech,  _ stop that! _ " Scalpel ordered, having come out of the medbay closet to find that the bot she'd thought was unconscious enough to turn her back on for a moment was  _ not _ . Her first impulse was to pin Spade down and stop them, but, no- best not to. So she didn't touch, just crept up to Spade, winglets quivering angrily as she got a look at the signature. Fuck. Okay. Time to... try and be gentle about this. Sighing quietly, she crouched carefully and slowly, slowly pressed Spade's servos down, trying to coax them to put the armor down but fully aware that she might have to stop them from doing something fatal. "Hey, hey- yeah, that's messed up, I know, but I gotta do somethin' about all that bleeding, okay? Hey, uh- Spade, right? Look- we can check everythin' else out for you, okay? Find everythin' we gotta deal with. But- I need you not bleedin' out, okay, mech? Servos down some, yeah? Let me get a look at you," she sighed, coaxing his servos aside. She would have preferred to sedate him, but... that was probably not a good idea here. "Easy. How about you just... get those servos aside some, put 'em on the berth instead, so I can see. And you are not gonna pull anythin' else off, bot! The more you make me fix, the longer before I can help ya find all the other slag. So- we get you to stop bleedin', we can look for everything else  _ properly _ . Take plating off  _ properly _ , with the latches, without tearing it off. Okay?" 

 

"We're probably going to have to talk to Notepad some," Crucible suggested quietly, setting the removed shoulder plating on the side of the berth, and backed out of the way to where he knew the restraints were kept. Not that he  _ wanted _ to tie Spade down, but... if Scalpel's soothing didn't work, it was either that or knock them out, and knocking them out would just make them even more paranoid when they woke up.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

Spade startled when they finally took in Scalpel's presence, "you, who- I don't know you. Don't- get away from me," they mumbled, their voice hollow, they jerked their arms away  and tried to push their frame to the other side of the berth, "don't touch me, don't  _ touch _ me. Don't-" They stopped when they realized they were still holding their chassis plate and flung it in Scalpel's direction but their aim was bad and their strength was even worse. It harmlessly glanced off the side of her arm, spattering it with their energon before hitting the floor with a loud noise. Even that small movement seemed to set off a firework of pain. They groaned and hunched over. They could feel their consciousness waning again, optics crackling at the edges. They stayed upright though and shot a look at Scalpel, their vents coming out ragged. Their optics were wide, bright and heavily shrouded by pain, "d-don't believe them. Don't believe what they told you. They're lying I'm-I'm not-"

Spade backed up further, their servo searching behind them for the edge of the berth. They didn't know her, they barely knew Crucible, the Choir could never know what they did. But Soundwave knew, and Crucible probably too. This... Scalpel? Probably knew now as well. It was only a matter of time. They wouldn't see Salvo's disappointed face -they  _ couldn't. _ They'd have to escape. And if they couldn't escape, they'd have to die. They wouldn't answer for what they'd done and their frame wasn't better than dirt.

Spade's fingers at last grasped the edge of the berth. With adrenaline-fueled quickness they flung themself off, landing on the ground on all fours. They let out a cry as the shockwave traveled up their arms into their injured chassis. They could feel energon in between their dentae as it flowed out and dripped down their chin from behind their face mask. Alarms blared in their head as they fell down to one elbow. Escape wasn't a possibility, then, not under the medic's shadow. They brought their servos up to grasp either side of their secondary chassis armor. Death it would have to be.

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

"Yeah, sorry, it's my job  _ not _ to get away from people who're bleedin' that much," Scalpel commented, circling around the berth to get to Spade. She'd already made up her mind to just go ahead and grab him, and then his servos started towards  _ extremely _ vulnerable areas, and Scalpel dropped all pretense of caution. A quick lunge at Spade, and she caught her extremely reluctant patient in both servos, tugging them close to use her frame as a restraint. Curling around the smaller frame, she wrapped an arm around his upper chassis and both his arms, trapping his arms against his frame and his whole frame against her chassis. Another arm around his legs so he couldn't kick loose, and Scalpel stood up, turning to look at Crucible- and to keep them from helmbutting her in the face. "Oi, yeah- oof- get me them straps! Ain't gonna get 'em settled, jus' gotta go with keepin' 'im from hurtin' anything worse, an' I don' think a sedative's such a good idea!" 

 

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Crucible whispered, but this wasn't the first time he'd helped strap someone to a medbay berth. It was never fun, but sometimes it was the only thing that  _ worked _ . Hence why all the medbay berths had fasteners around the undersides for straps to attach to. The least they could do was try to make this a bit less unpleasant.

To that end, the cuffs were wide and fairly soft, enough that fastening them as tight as they'd go wasn't painful. Cuffs around the wrists and ankles, thick, solid straps leading from there to under the edges of the berth, simple enough. At least Spade was small- easier to restrain without hurting them. 

 

Being a field medic for increasingly traumatized soldiers meant that Scalpel knew what she was doing, and got Spade immobilized quickly. Arms spread, ankles cuffed together and fastened to another strap, a wide band over their hips, another band over their shoulders and upper chassis, and a cushion under their helm to be sure they couldn't hurt themself bashing their helm into anything. There were three classes of restraints- first, bots who were heavily sedated, but moving around some. Usually loose restraints just to keep them from wriggling away by mistake. Second, bots who were trying to hurt someone else, or escape. Those were tighter, but generally had enough room to shift slightly. Third, bots at risk of serious self-harm, like this. And, given that Spade was evidently some kind of spy, absolutely no room to move whatsoever. That, and Scalpel didn't take her optics off them so they couldn't begin to escape. Aside from a glance at Soundwave. 

"The fuck did you  _ do _ ?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

Spade struggled against the restraints only for a moment until they realized they were well and truly stuck. Well that cut out a significant number of options. Something deep inside of them was satisfied they could no longer hurt themself, not that they were particularly aware of it. The one advantage this currently had to being on the floor was that nobody was touching them, there was no way someone was planting something new on them now. Their back was solidly pressed to something so nobody could get behind them. There was nothing they could do but think. Escape wasn't an option, death wasn't an option, moving wasn't an option. What  _ could _ they do. They were in the medbay, at least three people knew of their treachery, they didn't  _ intend _ for any of the Choir to find out but... but nothing. They'd have to figure out something before they found out. 

They could bait someone into hurting them. If they were burning bridges they might as well. Soundwave they'd already received a threat from but he was all the way in the corner and had the body language of someone not on the mood to murder. Crucible they had no idea about, Scalpel... they'd seen with the small grey one. What was his name... P-something? Sticks had talked about him... A... Acus. Yes, that was it. They'd just need to threaten him and it'd be done with, however it'd go.

"Scalpel... Scalpel I'll- h-hurt..." Spade couldn't finish the sentence. This is not how they wanted to be. They didn't defect to continue hurting people. They didn't defect to continue hurting themself. They defected because... because the people around them were  _ good, _ because the people around them saved them when they'd done nothing to deserve it. They wanted rest and peace of mind. They wanted to  _ deserve _ the Choir's trust. They told themself they'd be a better person. Better than Mercator could be, better than Trail ever was.

Spade couldn't remember when they'd forgotten that.

Tears flowed down their face for the first time in millennia, "N-nevermind. I didn't mean it. S-Soundwave," they yelled, unable to turn their helm, "I didn't mean it-anything I said. I don't blame you, I can't hate you. I-I'm sorry, sorry I threatened you."

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

Hm. People didn't usually get  _ calmer _ when you tied them up. Not that Crucible was complaining! Sighing heavily, he folded a blanket a couple of times and draped it across Spade's lower half, offering them some weight without covering any of the areas that needed attention. That done, he backed away and moved over to sit near Soundwave, worried, doing his best to stay out of the way. "Ohh goodness. What were you two doing behind me?" 

A moment or two of back-and-forth, and Crucible lifted his voice slightly, speaking to Scalpel. "He says he didn't do anything other than semi-accidentally reveal the whole betrayal issue! And I know you don't like him, but I'm honestly inclined to believe him, this doesn't seem very productive! And it's not his taste in chaos, I-I don't think." 

Soundwave, for his part, played "noted! no complaints here" rather loudly at Spade, shifting once or twice to get comfortable. He was just going to... stick around and see what happened here. Giving Spade a complete breakdown had not been one of the possibilities he'd been looking for. Poor, paranoid little spy. 

 

Scalpel glared at Soundwave for his participation in this whole mess, then leaned a servo on the berth, deliberately not touching Spade. "Self-destructive little fucker. You know you coulda taken all that armor off with the latches, right, ya li'l idiot? Stolen a scanner to look for this slag? Ya know, anythin' but started takin' yourself apart. Now I gotta fix you and yer gonna be all stiff! Now, look."

Holding both servos where they could easily see, she transformed her included tools out, a few at a time, and flared her arm plating slightly. "I'm not hidin' anything. All the empty space in here is full of tools. I just gotta fix you so you don't  _ die _ . No complaints, I am going to make you stop bleeding. And I'm guessin' you won't put up with any sort of sedative, so... you just lemme know if this hurts too much." 

That said, she started in on the repairs, servos moving quickly- just the energon lines, just the vital bits. See how Spade handled this, if he stayed- well, he wasn't  _ calm _ , but this was workable. "Ah, Spade, what'd you do. You really flipped out, huh? I see this sometimes, though usually not quite this bad. Spies got real weird paranoia issues. This, by the way, means you get a few sessions with Notepad so's they can try and get you stable and not,  ya know, self-destructive. Big vents, Spade- try an' tell me how you're doin'. Pain level an' such."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/02/2018**

Spade winced at the feeling of Scalpel working on them, "Feels bad but... what am I gonna do. Gotta put up with it. Not much I can do. Wasn't thinking." Words began to free themselves from their mind, their voice was soft, steady, it would pass for calm if they didn't do what they did earlier, if they weren't saying what they said, "Can't.. can't trust anyone. Don't trust you but I can't do anything. You try to put me together I'll take myself apart again, I'll undo all the work you did. I won't let this happen again. Thought I knew him, but I didn't. Thought I could handle what he brought. Survived him trying to kill me. Thought that was-" They flinched again as Scalpel got close to a sensor, "I saw his corpse. I  _ saw _ it. Thought that was the end. Wouldn't have to deal with his... creepy slag anymore. But- that- that  _ bastard _ " they curled their servos into fists, tensing them against the restraints, tears fell again as they spoke through clenched dentae, "what did he  _ do _ to me."

There was something calming, something slightly familiar about Scalpel's demeanor. It was not Patches's saccharine speech, not Forceps's coldness, her chiding, almost-gentle explanation, not afraid to be a little mean... made them miss Sticks. Not that they weren't relieved to finally be treated by someone competent, but they knew them. Sticks had treated them with respect, which was more than most of their company could say. Even if the explanation, they anticipated, would be one of the most excruciating of their life, they almost wished they were here... almost.

"I thought Sticks was doing their medic thing, why aren't they here?" Spade said after a few moments of silent thought. They were ready to stop thinking about the impending slagstorm that would be dealing with this whole situation.

##  **Betta132** **12/02/2018**

"I don't have a  _ leash _ on them, I wouldn't know," Scalpel muttered, then paused her work for an instant, just enough to punctuate her glare. "And you are not going to do this to yourself again. Listen to me- you are in my medbay. You are strapped to one of my berths. I am stronger than you, and my anatomical knowledge is probably much better than yours. I am not going to let you waste my work, my time, and your life on tearing yourself apart. Is that what you want? To survive whoever carved that into you, only to tear yourself to pieces trying to get rid of him?" 

Huffing, she pulled a small canister from subspace and showed its label -"local anesthetic"- to Spade, then sprayed a few quick bursts of it on especially sensor-rich areas before going back to work. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to fix these energon lines, and the wiring. If you behave enough, I  _ might _ let you up after that, but I am not letting you out of my sight. You are going to stay in here, and we are going to, methodically,  _ without _ damaging anything else, figure out what he did. We are going to get rid of all of it. And we are going to do it  _ without _ hurting you. We are not going to give whatever may be left of him the satisfaction of you self-destructing. We are going to be  _ calm _ about finding everything. That is not negotiable. You don't have to let me touch you once I've repaired everything that needs it, but we are going to do this  _ my way _ , because your way involves bleeding and eventual death." 

And, it might have been manipulative, but as she leaned down to stare them in the optics, she brought up the best point she could. "Do you really want me to have to tell your friends that you're dead because of some manipulative piece of  _ garbage _ who by all rights shouldn't be able to hurt you any more? Do you want to have to deal with their guilt at you dying of something completely preventable? Because they  _ are _ going to feel guilty if you do this."

December 3, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/03/2018**

Spade closed their optics for a moment, a frown passing over their brow, "If I die, tell them I was the mole, they won't be sad anymore. Easy as that. Don't see much reason for me to stay. Frame's as good as scrap. The secret's gotten out so it's only a matter of time before everyone knows. Figure if there's life after death I can at least find that filthy backstabber, Trail, and spend however long eternity actually is beating him to a pulp." They were eerily calm, a hint of horror still remained, their optics still wide, unfocused, as they reopened but otherwise they seemed to have entirely given up. Their frame didn't protest against the restraints anymore. They didn't even flinch as Scalpel dug in to get at a stubborn energon line. Their vents slowed as their frame finally began to properly cool down. "And if there isn't an afterlife then I won't have to deal with whatever comes next- won't have to face them. I thought a kill-switch was a bad idea all those years ago but  _ Primus _ I wish I had one now."

Spade almost had a bit of a smile on their face, hidden by their mask. But their optics wavered again as something buried under thick layers of false-calm tried to claw its way out to the open. It was something strong, lithe, valiant, shining- something they'd thought they'd given up even before they'd joined war. With it came oily fear, seeping into its wake, irrevocably staining anywhere it touched. As it at last lit upon the top of their mind it stood and stared at them. It did not present alternatives, it simply watched. The tears came again, this time their optics sparking rather violently, as they lay and considered what they'd said. Scalpel's words truly began to sink in as their vision presented them a world with their absence, the idea that after all was said and done they'd be  _ missed. _ It bothered them. They couldn't quite believe it, not with what they'd done, once the Choir found out. But, oh, did they want to. 

Their voice was shaky again as they spoke, just barely above a whisper, "can I... be forgiven?"

##  **Betta132** **12/03/2018**

"Ain't convincin' me that yer gonna get up any time soon," Scalpel muttered, then, aiming a bit of a glare at their face, grabbed a cloth with her less bloody servo. Sighing, she dabbed around their optics to at least catch some of the tears, reduce the possibility of open flame. Tears didn't generally burn hot enough to ignite energon, that would be very bad, but- still. Sighing quietly, she met their optics for a moment, then shrugged and went back to her work. "Mech, I've seen people forgive attempted murder. I'd probably see people forgive  _ committed _ murder if that was possible. Can't make any promises, but maybe you should try  _ asking _ first before you decide to die because they ain't gonna miss you. Easier to ask now an' die later than die now an' never be able t' ask. Oh, an' yer in a medbay, I am not gonna let you de. I will keep you strapped to things for the next  _ year _ if that's what it takes, there are  _ enough people _ dead already!"

(short post before bio class, if this isn't updated slightly by half an hour from now then it is finished)

##  **Betta132** **12/03/2018**

(alright, yep, that's done, gotta go)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/03/2018**

"What's one more?" Spade sighed. They jerked against the head restraint for a moment before realizing they couldn't turn their helm and set to looking anywhere but at Scalpel. Optics dancing from ceiling to the far wall to the corner where Crucible and Soundwave sat together, not that they could quite see them save for the reflection of Soundwave's biolights on the wall and just the tiniest triangular sliver of his shoulder. They pulled a little more against the restraint, trying to turn in their direction. They succeeded, somewhat. Their helm moved just enough so they could spot the two's faces at the cost of a dull echo of pain from their torn plate. They winced slightly but gave the two of them a puzzled look, "Why... are you still here? Don't you have a sword to get back to Crucible?"

They regretted the decision immediately as boisterous noise came from the hallway on the other side.

"-And I have high hopes!" Burner's voice drifted in from behind the entrance door.

"Good luck, femme, hope to see that polish buffed off by the next time I see ya!" Salvo said, he laughed as the door snapped open, revealing a trio of bots. Salvo held Red's elbow from one side. On the other stood Burner, looking in top form, a servo on Red's shoulder to signal where she was- she'd learned somewhat on the walk over. She was the first one to spot the angular dom and started to strike a pose in the door frame before Salvo pushed past, making a path for Red to follow. His optics followed from Scalpel to the tiny frame strapped to the berth, helm pointed away, "Spade? Sp- we're goin' up Red," he knelt down slightly, not taking his gaze off of Spade, to grab Red's legs and hoist them up onto his back, "Spade!"

Salvo ran to the berth, keeping a good hold of Red so they didn't fall off. Burner followed suit, a confused look on her face. They both stopped a few yards away as Salvo spotted Soundwave. He didn't say anything, only glared and gently let Red down before turning his attention back to his friend.

"Ah fuck," Spade said, their helm still turned too far to get a look at what was going on, "It's not what it looks like, Salvo"

Salvo frowned and took a step closer, "what... what's going on. Spade, what happened, you're all torn up. A-and-"

Burner jogged around the side, giving Scalpel a lot of room, she looked warily at the corner before squatting to meet Spade's optics, "you... you've been crying."

Spade blinked but said nothing.

"What's wrong, Spade?" Burner reached out for their servo. 

"Don't  _ touch me," _ Spade hissed. They jerked their servo against the restraints in response but were unable to do anything, "don't touch me."

Burner stopped, letting her servo drop to her lap, she looked hurt, confused, first at Salvo then at Scalpel.

##  **Betta132** **12/03/2018**

Crucible had, somehow, ended up petting Soundwave. Sitting on the berth next to him, petting an undamaged portion of his flank and belly in long, smooth strokes. "Oh, that can wait- I'm  _ worried _ . You tried to take yourself apart, for Primus' sake, I'm allowed to be worried!" Crucible called, servo stilling on the spymaster's flank, then resumed his petting. Soundwave seemed to like it- his pulse had settled a bit since Crucible had started. "And I think he's a bit too sore to want to move." 

 

Deeming Spade unlikely to resort to anything desperate right at the moment, Scalpel took the helm padding away, letting Spade move their helm as they wanted. At Burner's approach, she lifted her winglets slightly in a greeting, pausing her work to eye all that polish. She wasn't rushed any more, just  _ annoyed _ , she could appreciate for a moment or two. "Well. Sorry to disappoint, but you an' yer libido are gonna have to wait. Your friend had a bit of a break- tried to take themself apart. Something about a hidden bug, and- the fuck is this?" she asked, lifting the discarded chassis plate to show the signature carved into it. 

.

Red was actually feeling rather good. Part of that may have been they were still slightly drugged from the surgery to put their audial to rights. Everything on that side was muffled thanks to the bandaging, but that was okay. Burner- Burner was new, and very enthusiastic. A bit too much, she'd startled them a few times with abrupt touches. If they could keep track of her, though, she was all right. 

And- oof. Oh, they liked this, Salvo carrying them. No need to worry about running into things! He sounded so worried, though, what was- 

Oh. That was Spade. And Spade sounded... bad. Hunkering down against Salvo's frame, they nudged some of the bandaging carefully off their newly repaired audial, listening carefully and trying to figure out what was happening. At least Spade was  _ online _ , talking, sounded coherent- if upset. And, lovely, that was Scalpel. Scalpel still frightened them to some degree. She was... she was just a lot!

##  **Malusdraco** **12/03/2018**

Spade rolled their helm around at the newfound freedom, "you should leave, Salvo. Take your new friend and go- take Burner too. I don't deserve your concern." They paused and finally turned their helm to the corner and projected a bit, "that goes for you, too Crucible. I can't fathom why you're here."

"Shut up Spade," Salvo said softly, shaking his helm as he spotted the wound on their chassis. He was thrown, he'd  _ never _ seen Spade like this. Even after being stabbed they seemed to hold it together. He locked optics with Burner across the berth, she had no idea what was going on either, she looked... scared. He was sure he did too.

Salvo took the signed plate from Scalpel and turned it over in his servos a few times. He squinted, pulling it closer in to look at the signature, "Spade... who's Trail? Why'd he... Was he..." Salvo cocked his helm a bit and leaned over to pass the plate to Burner who looked close, "Damn mech is this about a breakup? Co-"

_ "No" _ Spade shouted, optics, wide, flashing, "I did  _ not _ love that... that monster."

"Then how'd he-" Burner chimed in.

"-I DON'T KNOW," Spade yelled and began to sob, "I don't know.... Leave. You're better off without me."

Burner shifted forward, "but who-"

"What happened to no questions asked?"

"Spade." Salvo stepped forward a bit, trailing his arm back so Red could hold on, "We all agreed, no more secrets about our  _ fucking health. _ And here you are strapped to a berth, having torn yourself apart  _ what is going on." _

##  **Malusdraco** **12/03/2018**

"Secrets? You want a fucking secret?" Spade whipped around to face Salvo, looking him directly in the optics, "I was the mole."

"Wh-"

_ "I _ was the mole. I provided the drop point location, I let the Decepticons know whenever we moved position. I killed your team. Over and over again. It was  _ my fault." _ Spade's voice broke, "I am the cause of all of your problems, of everyone's problems. Now drop me like the worthless piece of slag I am so I can leave this tainted frame behind."

Salvo's face fell, "You said Cloudbreaker was the mole."

"I  _ lied, _ Salvo, that's what spies do," Spade shook their helm, "And don't call him that. He was my handler, alias: Trail."

Salvo's head spun, he fell over a bit and gripped the edge of the berth as support, "I don't... so everything... was a lie?"

"No. I didn't want it to be. I wanted to be better. I  _ tried, _ Salvo," Spade sobbed even harder, "I'm not a spy anymore. But I-I can't. I can't get away from it, I can't get away from  _ him. _ I'm not worth redemption."

It took a few moments for Salvo to draw himself up again, his frame felt heavy. 

Spade began to squirm as they watched Salvo, "Scalpel do it.  _ Please. _ I can't- Just- kill me  _ please." _

"Shut the  _ fuck _ up, Spade," Burner yelled, grabbing Spade's chin with a vice grip, "Shut  _ up _ and listen, you fucking drama queen, we  _ all _ have problems. We've dealt with them. We are dealing with them. You don't get to just opt out of this one because some slag-for-brains mech decided he'd try to make you think he laid claim your entire frame. That's not how that fucking works. You're a  _ victim _ rust-nuts, did you forget that?"

Spade was silent, simply trembling under Burner's grip. She released them slowly, gentler than she'd grabbed them. 

" _ Fuck _ mech. You're gonna live, you're gonna deal with this, and he'll be gone for good. Then you can start on your redemption by confessing to everyone. Let them decide if they're gonna miss you. I've made my decision," Burner sighed and straightened up, "You still owe me one of those crazy sex toys you promised. And 50 shanix." She paused, stretching out her arms over her helm, "wow I get angry when I'm horny."

Scalpel was quiet for most of this whole mess, aside from muttering "no" at the request for murder, just watching to be sure no one injured Spade. More grabbing than she would have liked, but... no actual murder. Good. 

And, hey! Like sensible people, they did not immediately hate someone they'd liked! Shocker! Containing the snark, Scalpel nudged the both of them away from the berth, glancing over towards Burner. "Yeah, yeah. Look, I'm kinda busy with this idiot. Either wait, go find yerself some toys in my room, or... I dunno, go hit on Patches. If you wanna be dommed by a teddy bear. Gonna want some stress relief after this... fuckery. I'm surrounded by  _ idiots _ !" she complained, definitely aiming that down at Spade, and pointed a claw at their face. "You see? So-  _ no _ tearing yourself apart, idiot! Little-" 

Winglets up in irritation, she fixed the blanket Crucible had provided, then loosened some of the straps slightly. Spade still wouldn't be able to get up or move around too much, but they'd be able to move slightly. "-there. Behave. No fuckery! Now, you think you'd be okay with a bit of sedative so this hurts less, or are you gonna start thinkin' I'm up ta somethin'? Because I'm not a fan of working on patients who are fully awake. Except masochists, that I can work with." 

.

"Look, frankly- as long as you haven't raped anybody or murdered any sparklings, I can work with you!" Crucible called, now busy petting Soundwave's flank and back with both servos. He was glad to have something to do with his servos, mostly. That, and Soundwave had gone pleasantly limp under his servos despite all the trouble. "And, by the way, murder and suicide are not allowed on my ship! None of that! We can handle issues in a slightly more civilized manner than that. Salvo, you, uh- Red." 

 

Red had  _ no idea _ what was going on. No clue what any of this was referencing. They'd been- they'd been mostly okay, they had! Even with the- with all the upset fields, from their  _ friends _ , and the bot in trouble, and Scalpel somewhere they weren't sure of, and, oh, evidently also Soundwave. It was fine, it was fine, it was stressful and they had to cling tight to Salvo's arm, but it was  _ okay _ \- 

But the sound of the welder kept sizzling, the taste of energon lingered in the air, and then the bot on the table, the bot whose limbs were tugging against straps, who was bleeding and clearly in distress, begged to die.  _ Begged _ . 

If asked, Red couldn't have articulated what they were doing. But they knew where things were, roughly. Letting go of Salvo's arm, they headed off in a slightly crooked line, disoriented but  _ determined _ , to get to where the emergency supplies were. When they turned around again, they were holding a scalpel tight in one servo, quivering hard, one servo gripping the edge of the counter for support. 

 

"Seriously, someone should go and- Red, are you oka- oh,  _ frag _ ," Crucible hissed, vague worry turning to  _ panic _ , and tapped lightly on the spymaster's shoulder. "Soundwave, Pit-  _ grab them _ -"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/03/2018**

Salvo spun around and reacted immediately, sprinting over to Red, reaching for their arm. He wasn't thinking, wasn't paying attention, his inertia was too great to stop. His servo extended and went straight for the scalpel, blade first. It came most of the way out the back side of his servo through one of the transformation seams. Salvo winced, and wrapped his fingers around Red's ready to contest their strength if they decided to pull away, energon dripped down through the cracks in their grip. 

"Ow. Red, for  _ fuck's _ sake," Salvo was panting, adrenaline rocketing through his frame, he tried to keep his tone even, "What was your plan, huh? We just got you fixed up." He paused to wrap his currently-unoccupied arm around their shoulders, drawing them close to his frame, seemed to work before, hopefully it'd work now. He punctuated the gesture with a light squeeze from his occupied servo, "Let go, Red."

Spade sat up a little bit now that their restraints were loosened slightly, trying to get a look at whatever was happening.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this, you... probably shouldn't be here," Salvo continued. He looked back at Spade, and ended up meeting their optics, "Spade, this is Red. As you can see, they're significantly worse off than you are and they're still here. They're working on it -we're working on it. I want you two to meet. Not now, later. When you're both stable. And you will both." he glanced back at Red before returning his gaze to Spade, " _ both _ be stable. I swear by my own spark, I'll see to it you will."

Spade spoke quietly, "Aren't you... don't you hate me? Aren't you mad at me? I-"

"Fuckssake Spade, I don't know what to think about you. Jury's still out," Salvo shouted, grunting slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off and the pain of having his servo impaled on a scalpel started to set in, "Doesn't mean I wanna see you dead. I didn't spend millennia protecting your aft for you to do yourself in. Spy or not I know you, Spade, don't wanna see that happen."

December 4, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/04/2018**

Red had already started back towards Spade, trembling  _ hard _ , when Salvo caught them. Not that they realized who this was at first. Wailing a soft, panicked cry, they struggled for a moment, letting go of the scalpel in favor of trying to push away from their captor. When they realized who it was, they froze, whimpered, and carefully grasped his wrist, shaking all over. Completely ignoring the yelling, they uncovered their arm-mounted scanner for the first time since before they'd been on this ship, scanning Salvo's wrist and servo to at least figure out what was wrong. "Oh. Oh,  _ Salvo _ . I'm sorry, I didn't- I-I didn't mean-  _ Salvo _ , I-" 

They couldn't help. Couldn't help, couldn't- 

.

"Ah, great," Scalpel muttered, and aimed a stern finger at Spade. "You behave! Sit there an' think about where you wanna check for more fuckery. I am gonna help you find everything, but we are gonna do it  _ without _ injuring you. So, you think about that, I am gonna deal with  _ this _ . Salvo, Red- on that berth right there, and Salvo, do  _ not _ pull that out!" she ordered, already on her way over to the washing station to get her servos clean. "Behave! If you stay  _ calm _ , I might take those straps off for now. 

Once back over to her patients, she steered Salvo onto the berth, showed him a syringe, turned his arm over, and injected the contents into an energon line in his wrist. "That'll numb you up. Do NOT move your servo, I don't care if it stops hurting. Gonna pull that out  _ after _ you can't feel it. Do not panic, do not freak out, you are  _ fine _ . I know it hurts, but you are  _ fine _ , and I am going to take that out  _ carefully _ so it doesn't damage anything. Breathe, look somewhere else, and tell me when you stop being able to feel it. Red, hey-" 

Pit. Right. She scared Red. Scalpel eyed the small bot where they were curled tight against Salvo's front, shaking, face turned towards her, and lowered her voice slightly. "Easy. Doesn't look bad. Hurts, I'm sure, and- ah, frankly, no, it  _ looks _ real nasty. It's fine, though, doesn't look like it went through anythin' too important. Just gotta- hm. Might try an' find Forceps for this, that alt'd be useful. You got any idea where they are?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/04/2018**

"Y-yes m'am," Salvo was surprisingly calm as he sat and waited for the anesthetic to kick in, "Last time I saw them they were over in the ah- soft room? The one with the big screen and couches. But that was a few hours ago so unless they found a  _ really _ long movie to watch I've got no other guesses. Seemed to be hovering pretty closely to Sticks, though, understandably." He turned around to address Spade, "Right, you don't know. Something went down this morning and Sticks is finally dealing with their thing-"

"Their spark thing," Burner added, she'd pushed herself up onto the nearest berth next to Spade and was watching them, kicking her pedes.

"Yeah, Bowline and Draft did some kinda donation so they're out. I was gonna tell you the first chance I got but I've been a lil preoccupied. So-well, actually I guess this is it."

Spade was still processing what they'd seen. Salvo didn't seem to notice, or didn't care, but they had definitely watched the optic-less bot stumble their way with a scalpel pointed at them. They were considerably more alarmed than they thought they'd be. Right, that was it for asking people to kill them. Fear of death was creeping its way back in, inevitably, and part of them was relieved. The mech seemed to be doing... not so good. Their gut reaction was to call them on it, they didn't trust them, but... they supposed, they had asked. Their helm lolled back on the pillow. A slight sickened look on their face.

"That's more like you," Burner said, leaning over, she sat back up to talk to Salvo, "I just wish I'd been here when it happened. I was right. I wanna tell Sticks to their face to eat their fucking words cause I was  _ right. _ "

"You were," Salvo said, making a vague placating gesture with both servos, albeit gently.

"I  _ knew _ there was something wrong with them but then they were all," she sat up a bit more and went into a bit of a falsetto, "I'm the medic, I know what's up. You don't have to worry about it. Ppft, no you don't, fool. I was right."

"Alright calm down Burner, they had a rough time, be nice." Salvo said, looking down at Red again. The anesthetics were kicking in at last so most of the apprehension fell away, "It's alright, Red. Not too bad. I don't have a whole lotta sensors in my servos so I think I'm a lil less worried about em. Look-er, check it out," he held his uninjured servo palm-up in front of Red, letting the tip of his thumb graze against their chassis to signal where it was. His servos were unusual, with large holes in the palms, only separated from the outer plating by a thin, rubbery membrane, "Not much there except for what's in between, unfortunately it looks like it's got some lines in it." Salvo looked back at his injured servo, turning it around a bit to take a look at the damage, "you went through that and... nicked the back plates, looks like. I mean it's not  _ pleasant _ having something lodged in a transformation seam but I've been through much worse. So, uhh, don't worry."

##  **Betta132** **12/04/2018**

Scalpel had brought something akin to a stand with her, which she fixed onto the frame of the berth under the mattress, then brought it up to place a small, stable platform in front of Salvo. Winglets relaxing slightly and field projecting something authoritative but fairly reassuring, she brought his servo over and fixed a strap firmly over his wrist, keeping the limb more or less in place. "You gotta be still. Let me just..." 

A few light prods around the area, then a scan, then she grasped the scalpel handle firmly and pulled it out in one smooth motion. "Ah- there. Well, if ya gotta get stabbed in the servo, that's probably the best place to do it. Looks like" a pause, a scan, and a firm prod to each fingertip "nothin' but a few lines. Fix a couple, seal the rest- it'll heal fine. Maybe a bit of a scar, this is... not an anatomy feature I'm all that familiar with. Principle's all th' same, of course, but I can't predict scars on a servo thing like this if I've never seen it. Weird," she muttered, poking the membrane a couple of times for no other reason than because she could, then transformed one fingertip into a delicate set of pincers and brought the nozzle of a tiny sealant container up near the line. This was delicate work, but simple enough. "A'ight- we're good, nobody bother Forceps. Just wouldn't mind their help if I had tendons or nerves to work on. This's fine." 

.

Red, still shaking, tap-tapped their way over Salvo's uninjured servo for several long moments. They'd felt something odd before, but hadn't inspected it to- hm. Another scan, and they visibly relaxed against his frame, satisfied that they hadn't hit anything important.  _ Still _ . "Salvo, 'm still sorry," they whispered, pressed to his front but careful not to jostle anything, then slowly turned to face Spade. They didn't know what was wrong there, just that an injured bot was over there, they could hear straps rattling, and- and nobody begged to  _ die _ unless something was  _ horrifically _ wrong, and Red couldn't just  _ listen _ , had to- 

...what had they been planning to do? What... what had they been doing with... 

...were they going to kill them? Just- go over and- 

No. No, they knew now, they weren't going to- they were pretty sure they weren't going to- but they might do something about their  _ audials _ , about- 

They didn't know. They didn't  _ want _ to kill whoever that was, they just... 

Primus. 

.

Scalpel's repair work was done quickly. Fix the two relatively significant lines that were causing most of the bleeding, then seal the whole thing closed with flexible sealant. The plating would heal itself just fine. Releasing the strap, she flexed his fingers one at a time to help get the circulation going again, then let go and turned slightly to Red. Who was still shaking, hard, staring in the direction of Spade's berth. "Ah, Pit. Red, c'mere- c'mere, I won't bite, you just- c'mon up," she muttered, tapping loudly on the berth, then lightly grasped their arm. Red started slightly, but came with her, and she aimed a no-nonsense glare at Spade as she carefully escorted the timid medic over. "Spade, I don't care if you don't like this, you are gonna  _ sit still _ and let them figure you out. Red, look... I'm not hurtin' them. They're self-destructive. Had to strap 'em down so they wouldn't hurt anythin' worse. They're okay- I promise. Suicidal tendencies, hm, mighta been temporary panic? Spies, ya know, they got all sorts of paranoia stuff. But it's  _ not _ because of something that I'm doin', okay? Somebody  _ else _ did some slag in the past that ain't helpin'. They're gonna be okay now, though. So- berth's right here. You just... vent, nice an' deep, check it out." 

.

Red whined quietly in the back of their throat, but put their servos on the edge of the berth anyway, fingertips sliding up until they found Spade. A quick jerk back as they found the straps, then their fingers continued up further, stroking carefully over the distinctive texture of new welds. Chassis plating damage, repaired areas- shoulder damage, too, no deeper than the surface. A bad sign, torn-free plating, but- but the rest of them was okay. No major scars that they were finding right now, no- certainly not enough to have someone begging for death! 

Okay. This- okay. Their servos clenched on Spade's arm for a moment, their whole frame trembling harder, then they ex-vented hard, let go, and turned back towards Salvo. "Okay. That's- okay, they're- they're not- they don't-" 

A shaky vent, and they covered their face with their servos, already starting back towards Salvo for comfort. Them covering their face didn't impede their sight, after all! "I got it. I'm all right. I think. I'm still- I'm sorry, but-" 

They stopped right next to the edge of the berth, lowered one servo rather cautiously,  _ found _ the edge, and smiled the slightest bit, climbing onto it next to Salvo.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/04/2018**

Salvo reached an arm around Red and draped it over their shoulders, humming slightly, sending a brief ping of pride through his field at their arrival on their own. He looked up at Scalpel and nodded with a faint smile, flexing his newly-fixed servo, "Thanks Scalpel. Um if you have a minute-and while I can remember. We came here for some antibiotics and painkillers. Red just got their audial fixed and I managed to forget the stuff Acus gave me. That's what you needed, right Red?"

Spade was trembling, they'd managed to keep themself mostly still as Red had touched them, a feat driven exclusively by the fear of Scalpel's retribution, but the light, hesitant touches had started up the scuttling beneath their plating again. All they could do now, though, was stare and try not to think about fingers spreading apart the cracks in their armor. Salvo seemed to have adopted them, which was unsurprising considering their whole face deal. This very small-seeming large bot, by their standards, clung to him too. It was, admittedly, fairly endearing. And they knew, now, about their true nature. No hiding that they were a spy from this one, they doubt they were very convincing strapped to a berth anyway. They couldn't try to disprove what Scalpel had said. It was... interesting, almost refreshing. The tension with the other Choir members in the room, even with their other shipmates, who knew them differently, it wasn't there. It would be so easy to lie to Red, they couldn't see their well-hidden tells and were greatly vulnerable and probably simple to manipulate on top of that. But... they didn't want to. They could be honest, upfront, for the first time in... possibly their entire life. It was an intoxicating thought.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/04/2018**

"Red, right?" Spade looked in the bot's direction, voice soft, tired, "You, uhm, you spooked me there. Which is a good thing, I think. I... was a Decepticon spy. I got stranded with the Autobots I'd infiltrated and I only learned today it was because of my..." they paused for a moment, trying to find the right word, "compatriot, who later tried to kill me, the specifics of which... uhm..." they closed their optics and took a deep in-vent, when they spoke again their voice wavered, "imply that he had... taken my frame apart without my knowledge. This -Primus" they had to gather the strength to continue, their entire frame shaking against the restraints, "This includes, I am positive, my processor, where he'd planted some sort of communication filter or blocker. Due to this-" they took another shaky in-vent, "and the discovery of his  _ fucking _ signature on a hard to reach plate, I can't help but wonder what else he did to me- what else I don't know about. It's- it's like he's  _ haunting _ me."

Spade took a moment and closed their optics, "I want you to know, Red. I want there to be one  _ fucking _ person who I know I haven't lied to.  I hope... I hope we can be friends."(edited)

December 5, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/05/2018**

Scalpel took a detour over to a cabinet, retrieving two small bottles- both with raised-lettered labels on them. "Dug out an old 3D printer- prints in silicone. It's not the medical-grade stuff, but... try this out, Red," she offered quietly, clinking the bottles lightly together so they could hear, and kept her servo still until they had both of the bottles firmly held. "Any good?" 

 

Red carefully ran one fingertip across the labels, feeling it out, and offered her a timid little smile. "Yeah. Good. I-I know these names, I know what these are," they whispered, looking fairly reassured as they canted their helm towards Spade, and listened to him. A deep vent, and they sighed quietly, their voice soft and shaky but helped slightly by Salvo's presence. "I was... held captive and forced to repair the rest of my captor's prisoners so he could continue to torture them without them dying. I eventually... did this" a slight gesture to their face "so he couldn't make me do that any more. He's dead now. So are they. I'm not sure how well I'm doing, but... I know he's dead, so I'm okay about that. They" a gesture towards Scalpel, indicating the crew at large, "brought me enough of him to identify. He's dead. Is yours dead?" 

.

Pulsing a hint of apology in her field, Scalpel stepped up close to Spade again, crouching and speaking quietly to them. Too quietly for even Red to hear. "Red had a lot of people beg them to die. It's a major trigger for them. I had to show them that I'm not torturing you, and clearly they can't  _ see _ you, so they had to touch. Apologies for that. Now- here's the deal. I'm going to let you sit up. If you start getting the urge to pull things off again, you are going to tell me so I can stop you. And we are going to work  _ together _ to find out everything that's not supposed to be in you, so we can get it all out. You just breathe, and tell me where you want to start." 

She didn't want to completely let Spade up, in case she had to restrain him again, but he seemed fairly calm. Shaky, but calm, enough to work with. Therefore, she undid the strap across his shoulders and drastically loosened the ones around his wrists and ankles, meaning that he could sit up, get reasonably comfortable, and move somewhat. It would only take a few jerking motions to get him pinned flat, though, the straps could easily tighten. "Alright- if you stay calm, you get to stay sittin' up. Now... couple options, okay? Either we stay out here, or we go into one of the side rooms, bringing someone you at least  _ moderately _ trust. I'm guessin' you might want the privacy, because if we're lookin' for marks a creep left, I'd start checkin' under your pelvic and thigh plating."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/05/2018**

Spade sat up and stretched their shoulders and neck, spreading out their rotors a bit and shaking them out. Now that they were spread apart it was easy to see just how damaged they were on one side, one blade even seemed to have snapped in half long ago. They weren't quite thinking, instead trying to piece their calm demeanor back together. The crawling feeling seemed to fade into the background as they convinced themself they would deal with the situation, that it would be resolved soon. With a final deep in-vent they sat up as straight as they could and snapped their rotors back into order, "Privacy is useless to keep in this situation, I can't leave a single place untouched. I want a Choir member as witness since I know..." they trailed off,  they  _ didn't _ know how to spot when they were lying. They couldn't really trust their instincts now, could they. Not after such a massive oversight, "I know them better than anyone else though... possibly not as well as I thought. And..." they turned to where Soundwave and Crucible sat, "I want you, Soundwave, to see what you've wrought. Suppose I don't mind Crucible seeing too, if he doesn't have any objections."

Spade then turned to Salvo and Red, a pang of guilt blooming in their chassis, "Red, you went through something truly nightmarish, I wouldn't want to bring you back there again. I... don't think it's a good idea for you to be here. Salvo you understand what I'm saying, yes?"

Salvo sighed, "Yep. Was thinking the same thing. Don't  _ like _ leaving you here very much but I hope you know that already."

Spade hummed, "He is dead, by the way, the mech who did this to me. We- They exiled him, spotted his corpse a few months later. Looked like he'd gotten caught by the elements or some kinda bug, or something. We should talk later, Red."

Salvo stood up and offered his forearm to Red, "You got a good hold on those bottles, mech? I can carry em back if you'd like a servo free."

That settled, Spade turned to Burner, "You gonna be okay with this?"

"Sure, lil nudity never bothered me," Burner replied, cocking her helm, "get to see a pretty femme in action, too."

Spade turned to Scalpel and nodded, "Side room is preferable."

##  **Betta132** **12/05/2018**

What  _ he'd _ done? Had they not established already that Soundwave hadn't gotten any of those messages? Soundwave aimed a glare at Spade from under his visor, grasping more firmly at the berth in a signal that, no thank you, he would not be moving. Sorry. Goodbye. 

"Oh, hush, you can put up with it. Come on now," Crucible declared, scooping Soundwave into his arms, and wound up with a disgruntled spymaster wrapped around his shoulders and grumbling a wordless complaint. "Shush. You are  _ fine _ ." 

Soundwave growled for a moment longer, but didn't try to squirm away. Fine. He'd tolerate being dragged along. Nothing Crucible was doing hurt any, and he was  _ warm _ . So, so warm. 

 

Red contemplated the bottles, then offered them to Salvo, not letting go until they were sure he had them. "Yes, please. Don't have my subspace back yet. Standard for self-harm risks. I might keep knives," they sighed, carefully standing up, and kept hold of his arm for support and guidance. "It's probably a good thing, I don't... I-I don't know. I... I don't want to die, though," they added after a moment, their winglets pricking the slightest bit. "Not any more. Not... not here. I don't... don't know if I like being alive, yet, but I don't want to  _ die _ . I guess I can try an' figure out things I like. Aside from  _ you _ ." 

.

"Great. I got an audience," Scalpel muttered, unlocking the wheels on the berth, and pushed it over into the side room. A quick shove to roll the existing berth off to the side next to a chair someone had put in the corner for some reason, then a few shooing motions at the collection of other bots so she could shut and lock the door. "There. A'ight- you lot, over in the corner where I can see ya, sit, hush. You- no spook business!" she ordered, aiming a glare at Soundwave, who somehow managed to project exaggerated innocence as he was set on the corner berth next to Crucible. "I've had enough of spooks." 

Sighing quietly, she tuned out her audience to focus on Spade, optics softening as much as she could manage. "All right. Steady- let's start somewhere semi-likely," she suggested, placing a servo lightly on Spade's upper thigh, and reached under the edge of it with her other servo to trip the latches. "Look- there are  _ latches _ under here. Armor  _ comes off _ . You don't have to mangle yourself, idiot."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/05/2018**

Spade sat up quickly at the feeling of actual fingers under their plate, twitching rather hard, "Tell me, Scalpel if you felt something  _ crawling _ underneath your armor would you have the presence of mind to deal with it  _ calmly. _ " They shuddered again as the plate came off, this was going to be a long process, they were going to be naked in front of some relative strangers because that was somehow the only way they could convince themself Scalpel wouldn't plant anything on them, and there were only bad things to find, like some kind of fucked-up scavenger hunt. Great. Excellent. Thanks Trail. They leaned forward a bit more as Scalpel turned over the plate, squarely in the middle was another signature, "that's one-  _ Fuck _ it doesn't get any easier the second time around."

"What are you gonna do with it," Burner said, "plus that other one, chassis protection is important, mech."

Spade turned to find her on the counter, legs spread apart, chin on servos, elbows on knees. Her face was serious but her stance made Spade frown slightly in confusion. They paused, having to get their mind back on track, "I... don't know. I can't walk around armorless, can't imagine putting it back on either.  _ Primus _ I hate every fucking step of this. Just let me-"

"Let you what, Spade," Burner said, looking vaguely exasperated, "you're still strapped to a berth at the mercy of a medic who's agreed to check your whole frame out for you. Nobody in this room is gonna let you die. You don't even want to anyway. Just think of it as... hmm," she cocked her helm and reached to draw something out of subspace, a piece of candy on a stick, "Every time you find another one you've beaten him back a little more. Whatever you  _ do _ with the things he's done to you is up to you. If I was to guess, he put them there to fuck with you in ways only he would know. So by finding them you're stripping him of his power over you." she popped the candy in her mouth, "or something. You want a candy? Patches made em, help ya loosen up?"

Spade looked at her with a tired grimace, "No? And..." they sighed and looked down at the plate, "you're wrong, I think. He started acting... strange a few days after I'd told him I wasn't interested in him... as in, sexually. He was probably staking his claim, trying to show he owned me or some slag.... ugh." Spade slumped forward, Burner wasn't wrong, each new signature they found would be one less unknown mark, but there was always the possibility for more, "Soundwave,  _ how _ did a maniac like him pass agent screening?"

##  **Betta132** **12/05/2018**

"Mech, I got actual bugs under my plating once, an' I at least remembered to disengage the latches first. You nearly  _ died _ . Bad response!" Scalpel scolded, then sighed, winglets twitching slightly. "I am not askin' you to be perfectly calm. I am askin' you to be calmer than trying to  _ rip yourself apart _ , and I am talking because it tends to help people relax slightly if I explain what we're gonna do. Now- lemme tell you somethin' about that kind of abuser. The kind that like control. They don't just like it, they  _ need _ it. They need to control  _ every aspect _ of their target's life. If they can't do that, they can and will resort to killing their target. The 'if I can't have you, no one can' sort of thing. If you want to defy him as much as possible, you  _ live _ . You live, you put him behind you, and you form  _ healthy _ relationships with other people. Look-" 

A pause, and she crouched so they couldn't easily avoid her gaze, winglets up and ice-blue optics blazing intently. "-I'm not tellin' you it's gonna be easy. But, if you die now, because of this,  _ he wins _ . He gets what he wants. He takes your life away from you. You are not going to let him do that.  _ I _ am not going to let him do that. Now, you are welcome to hate this. You are welcome to hate  _ me _ , as long as you don' turn it violent. You are welcome to curse me out every step o' this. You don't have to  _ like _ this, but we are gonna find all this nonsense. So- you pick. Where do we check next? I got all day." 

.

"I could build you some new armor, and we can melt the old and use it for something," Crucible offered, then paused and offered a slightly wry smile, rubbing the back of his helm with one servo. "It's, uh. I'm a blacksmith, not a medic, so it's gonna be pretty clunky, but it'll work 'till you can get something a bit more... fitting. Or we can cut or melt out the nasty bits and just patch the holes. Either way, I have lots of good ways to melt and cut things, and you are welcome to use all of them. With, uh. With me keeping an optic on you. I don't wanna have to deal with you jumping into my smelter." 

 

A fair question. Soundwave didn't sit up, too comfortable (and sore), but did rotate the words on his visor so Spade could easily read them. And, for this, he set his usual speech patterns aside again.  _ [Sadism can be difficult to detect. A certain amount of tendency towards manipulation and need for control is a useful trait in spies. We did not have the time or resources to vet every potential candidate enough to do things such as track down past romantic partners and ask about warning signs. Additionally, I had to delegate the vetting of potential assets. I never met your abuser in person, and cannot say that I would have been able to pick up on this if I had. Sadists are generally good at hiding their true nature- the ones that do not are always stopped quickly. It is also possible that this is something which developed over time, due to stress- it may have been present, and the situation exacerbated it. Either he was good enough at hiding himself to fool my assistant, or he was not a sadist at the time. I do not know. I apologize for what happened, but I did not cause it. Everyone else who was involved in the process is dead.] _

 

Spade sat for a while, absorbing everyone's words. Yesterday Trail to them had been a betrayer, an attempted murderer and an aft, today he was a sadist and an abuser,  _ their _ abuser. They leaned forward, trying to curl into themself as much as they could given the restraints. It was a lot to take in. Their first instinct was to be angry, but angry at who? Anyone who'd had a servo in the process was already dead and Trail... if they could they would kill him, over and over, but he was long gone. They could do  _ nothing _ but deal with the aftermath and there was so  _ much _ to deal with and for the first time in a long time they had no idea how to go about it. They were completely and utterly lost. They wanted not to deal with it, to ignore anything happened at all, to go crawl into some dark place and stay there alone, for a long, long time. But most importantly, they wanted to live, in spite of Trail and his machinations, in spite of their own fuck-ups. He wouldn't win. They wouldn't let him win.

"He will not claim me, he will  _ never _ claim me. I won't let him," Spade's voice was shaking as they spoke, straddling the barrier between unbridled rage and absolute despair. They brought their helm up again to look Scalpel directly in the face, finding fresh tears rolling down their face. They blinked a few times, through gritted dentae, enough was enough, "Processor. I'm sure of it. The only way he could filter communications remotely would be to modify my spy corresponder. A communications  _ block _ could be attached anywhere on my frame, but a  _ filter _ would have to read the messages before they sent.  _ Primus _ I wonder if he put a trap in there."

Spade shook again, the idea of permanent processor damage bothered them more than they could say, but they wanted out. Whatever it took to take Trail's servos out of their frame for good. They turned their helm to Burner, but first stole a glance over to Soundwave, and nodded, a quick acknowledgement, apology accepted, "If you're up for the task, I want to see what you're doing, Scalpel. Burner, would you mind me borrowing your optics?"

Burner pushed off the counter and approached the berth, "Make sure she isn't doing anything funny, right? Go ahead-well, I say I can behave myself over here but s'all about what the doc says."

##  **Betta132** **12/06/2018**

Scalpel made a quiet clicking noise and picked up the blanket again, tucking it around Spade's shoulders- because what else was she supposed to do? "Good. You don't give him the satisfaction of any kind of control over you. Now... hold still," she ordered, and lightly grasped their helm between her palms, optics dimming almost to black as she ran a long, slow, detailed processor scan. Winglets hitching up angrily, she lifted a small panel on her forearm and showed the image to Spade- a processor scan, with a small, flat object highlighted in red. "Found it. Only good news here- it's on the surface. Had to be to get it on sneakily. I can get that thing off, but you need to hold  _ still _ . Burner- c'mere."

No need to delay. Gathering up both of Burner's servos, she quickly wiped them down with a cloth that smelled of disinfectant, then clamped them on either side of Spade's helm. "Get up there in front of them, hold on like that, sit  _ still _ , and be calm. Gonna walk you through this. Easy," she whispered, nudging Burner into a decent position to somewhat restrain Spade, then stepped away to the sink. "If you need me to stop, at  _ any _ point, or if you start feeling like you're about to start struggling, you  _ tell me _ . Deep vents, Spade. I'm not going to hurt you." 

Not wanting to scare Spade any more than was necessary, she set both servos lightly on the back of their helm, petting her fingertips in small circles for a moment. "All right. Just... get used to this, if we can. Then I'm gonna start with your outer plating, take that off and outta the way. Gotta trip the latches," she warned, doing so, and slowly, carefully lifted a piece of helm plating away to set near Spade. "Now, I'm gonna clean this next layer of plating to be sure it's nice an' clean. Your systems can handle a few flecks of dust in your processor, but it's best to keep as much as we can outta there." 

That done, she placed her fingertips lightly against the delicate inner plating, keeping them still, and tapped her pede claws sharply on the ground. "Spade- gotta hear you now. You doin' okay with this?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/06/2018**

Spade's optics were wide, glowing brightly in between Burner's thumbs, the crawling had commenced again the instant Scalpel had touched their helm. This time, however, they had even more to worry about, with Burner hunched over them, her giant servos nearly engulfing their helm, "Burner please-" they hissed as the end of a cable popped out of the plating just below the wrist.

Burner reached a servo down and caught the end between two fingers, plugging it in behind her right audial before returning to her grip, "gotcha. Don't even think about moving either cause I'm not gonna let you."

"Right, close your optics. Open them when I say so." Spade said, grasping at the modicum of control.

"Bossy," Burner said, but complied.

Spade closed their own optics and concentrated, their frame getting remarkably still as they stepped into Burner's mind. By most definitions, this was hacking, but there was something undeniably safe about pulling up all status data, vitals feed, field monitoring, movement precursors. They had a few quick escape routes in mind and a counter-hack program in place before they felt themself begin to calm down. They took a deep breath and at last spoke again, "alright Burner open your optics."

"Finally ready?" Burner said. Spade's feed flooded with sensory inputs, processing them down took enough power for their frame to relax fairly deep. 

"Nothing's changed," Burner said, cocking her helm a bit, Spade noted a slight emotional change: confused/disappointed.

"That's the point," Spade replied, their voice was slow, lower.

"Are you ready Spade?" Burner was even more confused, looking down at Spade's frame, "you're acting a little strange."

"People call this hacking, takes lots of energy," Spade managed.

"You're  _ hacking _ me? I thought you just needed my optics." 

Emotional feeds jumped to surprised/scared/disgusted, vitals reacted accordingly. As expected. A slight smile flitted across Spade's face.

"I can trust you now Burner. I know you aren't lying, have a significant status feed."

Burner frowned. Emotional feed shifting to disgusted/dubious/slight betrayal, "You can hear my thoughts?"

"Just vitals, emotional input for your field, and when you'll move."

Burner sighed, displeased but resigned, "upping your debt to 200 shanix and a sapient hat plus that weird fuck-toy you promised."

"Done."

Burner rolled her optics, emotions shifting to a bit determined as she looked at where Scalpel's servos were, "this good?"

"Yes. Thank you Burner." Spade said, their preoccupied frame managing to send a distinct flicker of gratitude through their field, "Thank you."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/06/2018**

" _ Ask _ people about that sorta thing, ya little creep," Scalpel muttered, lightly tweaking Spade's audial fin, but otherwise continued her work. As she'd said, she kept talking, regardless of whether or not it was necessary. It was almost habit, at this point, to narrate what she was doing to an awake-and-aware patient. A layer of inner plating came away, then another, and she shut off all her front-facing vents as Spade's processor was revealed. Always a weird thing to do- staring down at someone's mind. "-and that's what runs every one of your thoughts. Fun, huh? That's... every one of your memories, and the whole mechanism of your thought processes. Now- if I wanted to hurt you, all I'd have to do is tweak a few of these wires wrong. You would notice that, though- it would spark. You will not see that here. Now... this is your problem, right here." 

What she was indicating was a small device, a bit like a large data-chip, pressed over a portion of Spade's processor. Pulling an insulated pair of tweezers from her kit, she glared at the little object for a moment, then smirked, gripped a tiny wire, and plucked it free. "Ha. These? These were mass-produced awhile back. See- you need major skills to build one of these from scratch. Nobody but  _ medics _ has th' skills to build one of those. This ain't custom, aside from the programming. No traps. Now hold still and lemme pluck this thing. Your processor doesn' have any pain signals, but you are gonna get some very weird COMM signals for a bit while I get all these li'l wires out. Just... ignore that." 

The device, in itself, wasn't all that complex to install or remove. A few minutes of carefully plucking the tiny wires away, and Scalpel lifted the little chip out, smirking as she presented it to Spade. "There. Melt that, burn it,  _ eat _ it, whatever ya want. Ain't yer problem any more."


	13. SO MANY WORDS

##  **Malusdraco** **12/06/2018**

Spade barely noticed as the chip fell into their lap, after all their attention was devoted to parsing Burner's input, who was not looking in their direction, but rather at Scalpel, optics drifting from her servos to her neck, to the bottom of her face, notably not making optic contact. She was trying to be subtle about it, little, suppressed pings of glee every time she caught another glimpse. Burner wasn't exactly the most subtle person to begin with but even this felt more than a little invasive. It was... endearing to say the least. Distracting too, almost enough to forgive the fact their processor was out in the open, almost. 

"Burner, look down," wasn't as gentle as Spade would have liked but did the job, a slight ping of embarrassment and Burner complied, "watch as she puts it back together."

"Haven't seen a processor sittin in a helm before," Burner remarked, evidently using her genuine curiosity to hide her embarrassment, "kinda unremarkable for something so important."

"Don't touch. I'll hack your arms."

"Now I know you can't read my thoughts because I had no intention of doing that." Burner said, all signs pointed to truth, with a large portion of relief and a hint of annoyance.

A slight smile crossed Spade's face as they watched Scalpel replace the plates, luckily none of them were signed. That was one thing taken care of. He was out of their mind, definitely, and they were  _ sure _ Scalpel hadn't put something in there. The peace of mind lasted only momentarily, however. This was definitely not the extent of Trail's disturbances on their frame, no, they were planning on systematically taking their armor off and looking for things on their own, or the first chance they got, whether Scalpel would facilitate or not. If the effort it took to get into their processor did not deter Trail, then what else could they have done. Their entire frame was still suspect, but the overwhelming desire to not show the entirety of their organs to this many people was a worthy contender to their paranoia. 

Burner stepped back a bit and looked at Spade, optics settling on the weld marks on their chassis. Spade picked up a pang of sadness, regret, and overwhelmingly pity. Looking at themself like this, motionless, strapped to a berth, they did look pitiful. Burner reached up to pull out the plug, "I hope you see what I mean, Spade."

Spade had a few kliks to close the connection before Burner pulled out the plug. They spooled it back in and at last opened their own optics again, "I think I do."

December 7, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/07/2018**

Once everything was back in place, Scalpel patted Spade's helm, then tugged lightly on one of his shoulders. "C'mon, lay back down. Let's check your organs for fuckery. This part, you can watch for yourself. I'm bettin' you have  _ something _ nasty around  _ somewhere _ important, so let's check out, hm- external spark chamber area, everything related to fuel processing. I'm not leavin' you to do that yourself, that's a good way to die. You want the spook an' the walkin' volcano outta here?" 

 

Crucible approached rather cautiously, stepping loudly (as usual) so Spade could hear, and picked up the marked piece of thigh plating. "Hm. Yeah, this- I could melt this, easy. The signature, or the whole thing. Could use it for something, too. What do you think- would you like me to lend you some tools for that? Pit- you know what you could do? Melt out this signature, patch it up, and sign it  _ yourself _ . Reclaim yourself and that sort of thing. Or, maybe... melt this down, make something artistic. It's good metal, I'd use it for  _ something _ , but that doesn't have to ever be on you again. Y'know?" 

 

"Mech's got a point," Scalpel declared from where she'd gone to wash her servos,  _ again _ , winglets hitched slightly in agitation, and moved back over to the table. "All right- you think you can handle me pokin' around in your innards?"

(slow brain day)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/07/2018**

Spade sighed, "I... I don't know Crucible. My armor's part of me, I don't think I could see myself without it. I don't know how well crafted armor would work when I transform, which I  _ would _ like to do eventually once I can get my blades fixed. But-" they shook their helm, and looked up at Crucible, "I just don't know now. Don't... don't use them yet."

The mech really was trying. He'd stayed throughout this whole process, didn't complain and did seem worried, whether that was a feint or not it tugged at Spade's mind just a little bit. It deserved recognition. "And, thank you Crucible. I appreciate what you've done... for me. I appreciate that..." perhaps it was a leap to assume but they wanted to hope it was true, "that you care about me, even though I've done nothing to deserve it." They nodded at Crucible, their face softening, then looked past him to Soundwave, "I think you've seen enough of me today... boss." they turned to Scalpel, "Not particularly psyched for organ diving, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep without confirmation. Burner stays as witness, I'd like the rest to leave."

"Sure, mech, I can do that" Burner said gently, leaning down to rest her elbows on the edge of the berth. 

Spade turned to acknowledge her and slowly, tentatively pulled their servo up, letting its back lean against her wrist. She looked down, somewhat of a surprised expression on her face, and shifted to gently touch back, smiling sadly that such a tiny gesture would be so difficult after everything they'd been through together.

##  **Betta132** **12/07/2018**

"Oh- I'm not going to  _ steal _ it! I'm giving you options. And, you're welcome. Call it basic decency," Crucible shrugged, setting the plating down and going over to gather Soundwave up. "C'mon, we're gonna go leave them alone. Maybe you can come back to my workshop and I can keep working on that sword, I know you like it in there. I'm not surprised- such a skinny thing, you must get so cold. Pretty stomach, though!" he commented, shifting to pet the glowing patterns, and was given only a cursory growl in retaliation. He was warm, Soundwave liked him. 

Soundwave pushed himself up into a roughly graceful pose, managing to make himself look like he'd fully intended all this to happen, but somewhat ruined the effect by sneezing rather hard. 

 

"All right. Come on- lay down now, try an' get comfortable, see how much you can relax. This shouldn't hurt, but  _ nobody _ likes this sort of thing. Well. Unless they got a weird kink," she commented, resting a servo lightly on his stomach, and stroked firmly to massage the cables into loosening slightly. "Easy. Nobody's gonna hurt you, okay? Well, okay, can't promise that, but nobody in this  _ room _ is gonna hurt ya. See if you can relax or if I'm gonna have to soak your midsection in something. I do have muscle relaxants, but you aren't gonna be able to sit up right for awhile if I have to use those, so. Preferably you can just kinda not panic."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/07/2018**

"That's..." Spade grimaced as the skittering started up again, "a tall order." They propped themself up as much as they could to see what Scalpel was doing. It wasn't that they were freaked out about the prospect of someone's servo inside them, there had been a significant amount of that when they'd had to be pieced back together after getting stabbed. It was that organs were much different than plating, the margin for error was small and the sensitivity was considerably more. It was a significant amount of trust to place in one person. Besides what Scalpel could do, there was the horrid potential for what Trail had already done. It was not going to get easier if they kept considering this. They tried to convince themself Scalpel wouldn't do anything wrong. She hadn't thusfar, she'd been patient the entire time while they were freaking out. She'd been  _ adamant _ for their safety even when they'd been willing to simply perish. What's more, in the off-chance she decided to kill them then and there, it would be a bummer, they'd be angry, but ultimately not a total loss. Otherwise, they could see what she was doing, and Burner would be another witness. 

Spade clung to their reasoning and took a few deep vents, never taking their optics off of Scalpel's servo, "would be nice to be that kind of someone else right about now. Horny's better than ready to panic."

"Got that right," Burner said, laughing a bit. She pulled another candy from subspace and stuck it in her mouth. 

After a few moments of deep breathing and concentration, Scalpel could finally feel Spade relax under her fingertips.

##  **Betta132** **12/07/2018**

"Hey, it's better on this end, too. 'S long as they're polite," Scalpel commented, stroking for a moment more, then slid her fingertips carefully between muscle cables and pressed. "Ordinarily I'd prefer to slick things up a bit, but... don't know what I'm lookin' for, so, can't afford any lube without knowin' how well I'm gonna need ta grip something. Now, seriously- if this starts to get too much, you tell me!" she ordered, then dimmed her optics slightly, going largely by feel. It was... almost reassuring to do this, at this point. Spade was uneasy, yes, but  _ alive _ . Healthy. Mostly. 

"Now... if he's done somethin', it's gotta be smooth around the edges. Anything sharp would cause a site of inflammation that would show up on scans. And it can't react to pressure, because otherwise standard repairs, and normal actions, would set it off. So I can do this, I just need to... look for anything that doesn't feel right," she explained softly, and paused, fingertips tracing over a scar along part of Spade's fuel tank. "Old scar here. Less flexible than the rest,  _ slightly _ rough. Nothing worrisome. So... follow this up, to your fuel pump, and  _ this _ is trickier. More details, more textures. This... this is where I would hide somethin' if I were gonna be nasty. Lots of activity, lots of moving parts, good place to hide something. So... relax, and let... me..."

A pause, brow furrowing slightly, servo in Spade's frame easily halfway up her palm, and she very carefully began to splay the cables further so that she could actually see. "...hm. That doesn't quite feel right. Let's just get a look at-  _ there's _ the fucker. Look," she muttered, holding the cables splayed open, revealing- well, most of it looked about right, to the untrained optic. Mostly, the thing that stood out was the thin, glimmering wire wrapped around a major fuel line. " _ That _ ... looks like a miniature garotte. Hooked up to something that, I assume, tightens it. Wire that thin, it'd slice, easy. Right- found the thing, now, you think you can avoid clawin' at it while I get a spreader? I gotta scan that thing and figure out what to do with it. And I need you to  _ not _ freak out and start grabbing! If that line's cut, you aren't gonna die, 'cos you're in here, but it's gonna suck for everyone. Be  _ calm _ ," she ordered, winglets up, field pulsing medic-grade  _ reassurance/confidence/anger/medic/calm _ , one servo guarding the thing from any of Salvo's attempts at grabbing. "I can get that off, but you gotta let me do it my way."

##  **Betta132** **12/07/2018**

.

Doom was having issues again. The sort of thing that almost made him think he ought to go ahead and let the medics do everything they'd suggested, except that, ew, medics. So, he worked with this as well as he could. Which meant, basically, pulling his arm plating off, a piece at a time, regardless of if the latches disengaged properly, and chucking it at the wall. And, whenever that failed to ease the strut-deep ache, punching the wall as hard as he could. Which appeared to be damaging the wall more than his servo- it was already sporting a number of massive dents, and the worse that had happened to his servos was a slight dulling of his knuckle-claws and the loss of a lot of paint to the wall. Still, this was not great!

##  **Malusdraco** **12/07/2018**

"Oh great," Spade said, descending slowly into panic, "I've had a killswitch all this time and I-" a short choked-up gasp, "didn't know. Would have been useful back when I actually wanted to- ugh."

Burner watched with dawning horror, "you're kidding me, this  _ whole time. _ " She reached to hold Spade's servo, to which they responded with a viselike grip back, not shying away this time.

Spade's optics flashed, their field very suddenly blasting terrified rage,  _ "Get it out," _ they muttered, "get it out get it out get it out get it out." 

Burner's fingers started to hurt, "Spade you gotta calm down, this is only gonna make it worse." Something in her voice was straining, close to breaking, this would be the closest she'd seen them get to death today. Their comments hadn't felt real, but this, this tiny wire ready to flood her friend's frame in their own energon, definitely did. She didn't know what to do, didn't know what to make of it, Spade had a good reason to be freaking out this time, "Come on buddy."

Not knowing what else to do Burner held her other servo out, hovering first over their chassis, then over to their shoulder, then a bit above their audial and finally rotating, letting her fingertips gently stroke down their jaw. Spade's optics went wild for a second before they grimaced, tears dripping down their face once again. A few kliks and they began to breathe slower, still visibly upset, but slightly calmer.

Spade let out a quiet "fuck" but did not turn away. As much as they'd deny it, depriving themself of contact for the majority of their life was a bad idea. Their anger began to slowly fade away, and their fear too, to an extent.

Burner felt their grip loosen on her servo and let out a heavy sigh, "we're here. Scalpel's gonna fix this. Everything will be okay."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/07/2018**

.

Bowline had managed to haul herself upwards despite the vertigo. Keeping herself upright enough to navigate to her room gradually made her feel better, though. She was looking forward to lounging in her chair and not worrying about her friends for a while. She stood in front of her door, leaning on the wall next to it and paused. What was that-  _ bang bangbang. _ She straightened up a bit, it was close. She wouldn't be able to relax with this noise so close. She shook her helm, time to be as palatable as possible. 

It wasn't difficult to follow the noise to a room a couple doors down from hers. She could feel an unfamiliar field, frustration, tiny sparks flickered at the edges of her vision with a hint of the smell of gunsmoke. Ah. Something... slightly sexual about it. She held her helm up and prepared herself accordingly. With a game plan in mind, she knocked on the door, two brisk but distinct taps, offset from the irregular sounds of whatever this mech was doing.

##  **Betta132** **12/07/2018**

"Easy, easy," Scalpel muttered, moving rather quickly to fetch a spreader before Spade could panic, and slid it into place with a quick, practiced motion. "There. Hold still while I scan this," she ordered, quickly doing so, then  _ smirked _ and lifted her winglets higher. "Ha! Now,  _ that _ is supposed to explode, but it can't. Your nanites thought that was leaked fuel, and they processed it out. This can't detonate, it's got no explosive in it. So- just gotta deal with the wire. This  _ is _ going to set the thing off, but it can't hurt you, all right? So,  _ no _ panicking when it moves," she ordered, transforming two tiny scalpels from the forefinger of each servo, and carefully lowered them into place. Against the wire, right where it met the device. A deep vent, then two tiny slicing motions, and the ends of the wire were severed from the device. The device did trigger, as she'd said, with a whir- 

But that was it. It whirred uselessly, something clicked, and that was it. A few smooth slices to sever its connections, and Scalpel lifted the little thing out, setting it right next to the control chip. "Nasty. But- that's it. You think you can handle checkin' over the rest of your organs, hm, or you need a minute? Creep like this, probably oughta check everywhere personal we can think of that you haven't seen recently." 

.

Doom wasn't used to having a  _ door _ , and he cocked his helm in surprise as the knocking registered. Then- ah! Right! There was a door. Doom walked over, opened the door in question, then- well, didn't know what else to do, so he went back to where he'd been before. Sitting on a crate, pulling pieces of armor off his arm and throwing them at the wall, punching the wall every time it failed to help. He didn't really  _ greet _ Bowline, or... do much of anything, aside from glance at her, though. Too frustrated, too uneasy. 

The whole room looked a bit, ah. Punched. Dents in every wall at roughly the same height and in large patches, a couple of chairs and an assortment of crates scattered around like someone had been throwing them. The berth was in decent shape, though. Or, what was left of it. A mattress on the floor with a massive heap of shredded-up blankets on it, the actual frame smashed to bits and bent into an interestingly shaped thing that was halfway wedged  _ into the wall _ . Doom hadn't yet learned how to deal with anger in any way other than using it against things, and this was the result.

December 8, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/08/2018**

Spade shuddered as they heard the device activate, for the first time, tearing their gaze away. They only looked back once Scalpel had begun to move again. They let out a long, shaking sigh and turned to observe the small collection of heinous things that came from their frame, "and  _ fuck you too, _ Trail," they spat. 

"Now that's the spirit!" Burner said, patting their servo.

"Nothing quite as charming as knowing that was supposed to detonate," Spade said, a uniquely furious pallor inching into their optics, "blow me up, huh.  _ Fuck. _ "

"Look on the bright side," Burner said, "You're 2/3rds of the way to a proper collection. Should display em, show em off to anyone and everyone you meet. Would be a real good way to impress people."

Spade was feeling considerably better, fear now replaced with white hot spite, "That's  _ right. _ I survived you, bastard." They sat up as far as they could, tensing against the restraints, leaning over to the pile of Trail's traces, their voice growing in intensity, "I survived you. And I'll continue to survive you, no matter what you did to my frame. I've won- I'm  _ winning _ "

"We're winning too, don't forget," Burner said, gently steering them towards some form of gratitude, she seemed to ease a bit, too, seeing Spade like this at last, "it's a team effort. Let's you  _ were _ ready to self-destruct not too long ago."

"R-right," Spade said, calming down enough to lay back down, there was a hint of a smile on their face, "you name it Scalpel, I'll make it happen."

.

Interesting, Bowline thought as she leaned inside. Very unusual behavior, very fearsome looking bot, to boot. She spotted the molding lines on his frame and began to put pieces together. MTO for sure, unlikely to have had any sort of social instruction before judging from the absolute mess of his room. And this strange sexual tinge she was picking up from his field, either ripping off his armor was sexually gratifying, or... She cocked her helm slightly, she really  _ didn't _ know what to make of it. She decided her best approach was her original one. 

"Excuse me, would you be so kind as to stop?" Bowline said, inclining her helm in his direction, "I am rather tired and am fairly bothered by the noise. On top of that I am sure others are too."

Whether this worked or not, she would get a better feel for the mech. Her tiredness began to retreat as interest took over.

##  **Betta132** **12/08/2018**

"Yeah, well, first off, hold still so's I can get that wire out," Scalpel ordered, going back in with a set of tweezers, and carefully extracted the thin wire from where it was embedded in their fuel line. "Got it. Right- let's see what's up next. 'least it doesn't look like he's signed your fuel tank. Too hard to carve, I guess. Let's see- what else?" she muttered, fingertips trailing down through all the intricacies of a properly working frame, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Scar, scar, another scar, vague and harmful malformation of one particular fold, and then- 

Her optics narrowed and her winglets pricked up, much higher, and Scalpel  _ growled _ quietly in outrage. "Found one. This, ah... this ain't anywhere that comes off as easily as yer plating, though," she sighed, fingertips pressed against a signature she'd found low in Spade's belly. "And  _ this _ is your gestation tank. Figured there might be somethin' on here. Nasty. So- we gotta figure out what you wanna do about that. I can take the whole tank out, if you want, but that one's pretty hard to replace." 

Disgusting. This wasn't just nasty, it meant that any eventual pregnancy would be very likely to fail, given the weak point of the carving. "So- yeah, that's yer options right there. I get the whole tank out, I get just that part out and patch it, or... s'pose you could keep it, but I'm guessing you don't wanna. Nasty." 

.

"Can't stop," Doom declared, punching the wall again, then growled and began to yank at a piece of his chassis plating. None of his armor had been made to actually  _ come off _ , there were no latches, so it simply started to tear away around its weld points as he pulled. "Something itches. Have to keep doing this until I pull off whatever it is. Then it can't do that any more. Simple. Easy," he remarked, and pulled harder on the plating, seeming oblivious to the pain as it continued to tear loose. Once it was halfway off, though, he frowned down at it and stopped pulling. That wasn't it. Therefore, he shifted lower, a pinch and tug to his stomach cables, then began to pry at the edge of his thigh plating. Was that closer? That felt closer. "Medics said nerves are bad. Im-pre-cise," he sounded out, giving it another tug, then turned to look over his shoulder at Bowline. "Don't know where it is. So- gotta keep going. Can't stop." 

He didn't seem aggressive, at least. Thoroughly annoyed, but his armor didn't bristle at Bowline, he was too busy focusing on himself. Up closer, his field was thrumming something considerably more notable than simple arousal. Frustration with an undercurrent of anger, annoyance, a hint of inquisitiveness, and, most interestingly, a very  _ specific _ type of arousal. The type that was born, not out of desire, but out of a frame's need to burn off charge. Not that he seemed to realize it, because sitting on a crate and peeling off one's armor was not how one handled arousal.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/08/2018**

Spade's optics narrowed as they looked away. They frowned deeply. Their helm twitched. Course he'd do that. Once you install a killswitch in someone there seemed to be no boundaries you wouldn't cross. Surely it wouldn't be a stretch of the mind to think that he... A twinge from their abdomen, a brief wave of nausea and their fire seemed to sputter out a bit. When they spoke, their voice was quiet, "Don't suppose that's a quick fix. I don't like the idea of getting rid of something that's  _ mine _ just because someone... someone..." they trailed off, unable to shake the thought, "I don't think I'd need it. It's not like I ever intend to carry but... I don't think I could ever just get rid of it. It's  _ mine. _ " 

Spade shuddered, "what else would I put there anyway? Just empty space might... might mess up my balance." 

"Some kinda speaker system maybe?" Burner joked, she could see Spade was bothered more than they let on and tried to bring them up a bit, "Blast some sick tunes."

Spade shook their helm slightly, "how long does a patch job take to heal?"

.

Bowline inclined her helm slightly further in but did not enter, "Self destructive tendencies are not ideal. What you are doing looks like it hurts, and will cause you further issues in the future, I suggest you stop and think critically about the situation." 

Did this mech really not understand what was going on? She wouldn't expect any person to really be this unaware in this day and age, MTO or not. She was, perhaps, not the best bot to be teaching sex ed, considering her lack of drive but, she supposed, this mech needed some help. Perhaps not everyone had the ability to pinpoint exactly what they needed, though then again, she was not the best role model for that either. She stood up a little taller to try to get the mech's attention, "By my read, you are experiencing some sexual frustration. Therefore you might try your search slightly more inward and upward, though I would not recommend ripping off that panel. Open it on its own and perhaps you will get the gist."

For good measure she tapped her own panel with her thumb. It was a fairly lewd gesture she felt slightly odd performing. After all, she was not looking for interface and in most other situations it generally did not elicit good responses. Though this mech was interesting. She'd admit he was throwing her for a loop, the first to do so in quite a while. She would need to figure out exactly how to approach him, "May I come in, stranger?"

##  **Betta132** **12/08/2018**

"Ugh. This- this's nasty. Primus, at least a killswitch is a  _ pragmatic _ sort of nastiness. This's- ew," Scalpel declared again, and pulled her servos free, glaring at Spade's general tank area as if it had personally offended her. "If you ever want it out- that's doable. Can put some silicone in there for weight, or just let ya adjust. I got mine shredded beyond repair right near th' start of the war, had it out, never missed it. But, if you wanna keep it- patch takes a couple days to stop achin', week or so to get to the point of it bein' fine to be punched in the tank, few months for it to be fully  _ working _ . Frankly, that's my suggestion- feel like otherwise you're gonna start rippin' yourself up later. We gotta get that slag outta there, yeah? Figure you don't want your tank signed. Plus, if you do wanna carry, that's a weak spot. Can't have that in there. Oh, by the way- you don't wanna carry, nobody here is gonna make you even think 'bout it. I am not gonna prioritize your ability to carry over your comfort. But, if you think that's somethin' you might wanna do, I can work with that." 

She was retreating again as she talked- back over to the sink, once again, to vigorously scrub her servos. Mostly out of revulsion. The crawling agitation up and down her spine at this  _ invasion _ wasn't going to go away on its own, it was worth a scrub to see if that helped any. Ugh. Nasty. 

.

"Door's open. Not keeping you out," Doom pointed out, unfamiliar with the concept of requesting permission to enter, and stared at her for a moment before looking down at his own panel. Oh. Right. The new equipment. A long glare, then he tapped on his panel a few times, trying to figure it out. He'd never actually  _ opened _ a panel. Most of his didn't open. 

His frame was a bit more cooperative than expected, though. A few hesitant strokes, and both panels opened, Doom giving a grunt of surprise as his spike immediately pressurized. The itch in his frame settled slightly into  _ somewhere _ , and his shoulder plating perked in a gesture he'd picked up, something to mimic winglets. Another glance back at Bowline, bright red optics -he'd insisted on the lens color being changed away from Autobot blue- regarding her with something vaguely grateful, then he stood up off the crate. 

Turning around, he rather accidentally presented his spike to Bowline, showing off the ridges underlit with shining red. Nobody had taught him about modesty. "I just got this," he declared rather proudly, walking over to his berth (softer to sit on), and immediately laid back once he'd sat down. Right. Spike. Valve. Equipment.

Now what? This sort of thing usually involved two people, right? A longer stare at his spike, then Doom ran a servo up his own thigh, brushing the side of his finger carefully against his valve. "Soft.  _ Wet _ ," he commented, rubbing a fingertip up the side of his spike, then lifted his optics to stare at Bowline again. He made for a... slightly odd picture, like this. The comfortable splay, the spread legs, and the bared, primed equipment should have been sexy, but his body language looked more vaguely intrigued than anything else. "This's for two people. Not supposed to spike smaller people, too small. You're not small," he observed, and made a slight grabbing motion at Bowline, optics glinting. "You know about this, and you're not small. C'mere, let" a slight pause, remembering a phrase, "let me spike you, slickvalve." 

That was how people asked, right? He knew it was important to ask- Patches had made that very clear. Had to ask. This was asking. But the words- sometimes people were picky about words. Weird. Was this the right words?

December 9, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/09/2018**

"I... agree with you I think that's... the best option," Spade said, still clearly perturbed, "can that happen today or is it-" They stopped, the claws were digging in deeper. It took a few moments for them to speak again, "this wasn't really personal. The killswitch would... probably be to protect information, I could see that, same with the transmissions filter. Signing my frame, somewhat of an obsession but nothing so... intimate. That's another level of depravity," Spade balled their servos into fists, "You think he could have..." How could they even ask the question. They already knew the answer was 'possibly.' Once someone signed your gestation tank, the bar lowered to the floor, the possibility of assault was far from zero.

Spade watched Scalpel intently as she moved, they were fairly certain Burner wouldn't do anything harmful, and whether by necessity or desire were beginning to truly trust her as well, "I don't believe it matters now. He can't do anything to me anymore."

.

"You do not know how to open your own panels, yet you speak lines directly from a pornography script," Bowline wasn't exactly  _ thrilled _ at being propositioned, nor... could one even call this flashing? But there was something distinctly naive about this bot, he wasn't malicious, no, simply ignorant. She supposed she couldn't blame him, this equipment was flashy, and judging from his inexperience, extremely new. The possibility that this mech needed a masturbation walkthrough crossed her mind. Perhaps she would suck it up for his sake, too much ripped off plating and he was likely to do some serious damage.

Bowline entered into the room and sat down, an amiable yet clearly uninterested distance from this strange mech, "It all looks very nice, I assure you, you should be very proud. Now, it is worth noting, it is not socially acceptable to show your interface equipment off to strangers without their consent, no matter how proud you are of it. That being said this is forgivable as it is your first offense and you have a severe lack of knowledge. In other words, you should not have done that but I forgive you for it." She paused, letting Doom take in what she'd said, "Another point of note, my valve is not 'slick' and I would prefer if you referred to me by my name, which is Bowline, not to any presumed status of my interface equipment. In addition, just because someone is more experienced than you are does not mean it would turn out well for you. Not only am I not attracted to you, I am a great deal older than you are. So you see it is a point of both moral and personal conviction that I must decline your offer of interface." She got up to close the door, for Doom's privacy more than anything else, "Finally, I would suggest you explore what you have revealed there. One does not need two frames to release charge, as I am sure you will find out for yourself."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/09/2018**

Scalpel sighed heavily, resting a servo on his belly again, and stroked in gentle circles before pressing her fingertips back in. "Lemme check that out. And, yeah- this's a new layer of disgusting. And... I can't tell you what he did, no. I can only tell you what I can find.  _ But _ ... I don't think he would have assaulted you. Not least because you would  _ notice _ that. This all could be passed off as standard aches. Besides..." 

A pause, lip curling in disgust, fangs bared, "this sort of abuse, this sort of manipulation? If what he wanted at first was to interface, he's not gonna do that secretly. From what I know of that sort of thing, at least. No guarantees, just... a theory. And I can do this today- do it now. It's just the outer layer that needs a patch. I  _ am _ going to numb this whole area up, though, I am not cutting into your  _ organs _ while you can feel it," she noted, servos wrapping momentarily around the small organ, then carefully withdrew them. "That's the only one on there. You want me to check your spark chamber now, or after I get you numbed up some?" 

.

That wasn't the response he'd hoped for, and Doom's optics narrowed slightly in confusion at things not going quite right. Helm cocked, he eyed Bowline for a moment, then glanced down to his spike, then pulled up a blanket and covered his general crotch area. "You  _ said _ I should open," he muttered, staring at her for a moment more, but kept everything covered. She didn't like that? Or... 

Somewhat carefully, optics on her to check for anything unpleasant, he slowly uncovered his equipment again. "It's new," he repeated again, softer, glancing away, then grumbled quietly and spoke almost too quietly to be heard. "Don't know what to do. Saw vids. Think I can do that. Doesn't look hard. But this isn't like that. This's different. Haven't... it's  _ very _ new. Days. Just set in. Don't... know what to do with..." 

A sharp, upset whine from his engine, and he jammed the bundle of blankets back over his crotch, hips rocking hard against the fabric. "Don't  _ like _ that. Doesn't feel good. Make it  _ stop _ ," he growled, eyeing her with... some degree of confusion, mostly. He didn't know what some of those words meant, and it had  _ showed _ , tiny twinges of  _ confusion/frustration _ in his field at every word that didn't make any sense. He genuinely did not know what that had meant, the last part, but he'd gotten the general... some of the gist of it. But not the last bit. Squinting, he cocked his helm to the other side, armor fluffing slightly in irritation. "Don't know those words. You" a pause, engine whining in frustration, hips bucking involuntarily into the blanket, "-you gonna come show me or not? Won't  _ bite _ . Won't... make you..." another pause, gesturing at her frame in general "anything. Know not to do that. Know to ask. Not making you do anything. Asked. So... good, or not? You're  _ in _ here, you're looking- fucking  _ help me _ -" he hissed, sounding simultaneously very pissed and very  _ young _ , armor clattering in a full-body shudder of  _ need _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **12/09/2018**

Spade nodded solemnly, "Now's as good as ever. I... don't think he's got anything in there anymore at least. When he stabbed me it ended up going almost all the way through, grazed the armor around my spark. Medics really got an opticful, it would have been hard to hide something given how much attention it got. Logic says there's probably nothing there but... if there  _ was _ anything  it could be... real bad." They sighed, "I'm not unfamiliar with the feeling of showing my spark to people, at least there's that."

Spade took a deep breath, "Burner I need you to witness, visor down so I have a reflection if you could."

Burner leaned in, flipping her visor down as Spade opened their chassis. They winced slightly as plating slid over the new welding marks. The armor around their spark was closed tight, but still let a shimmering, yellow light shine through. On one side was a two-finger's width scar that traveled from the top of their spark chamber to a tapered end at the bottom. All along its length were lines of stress fractures , from extra width that wasn't meant to be there and a sharp pull upward, all hastily welded over. At the lower end of the scar were a few damaged spark-plates, dented slightly from being straightened, with small bits missing. Spade looked intently at Burner's visor, catching the reflection of their spark chamber. Their optics darted away for a moment before they resigned themself to watching. It wasn't the most pleasant sight to look at. They saw Burner wince when they opened up fully.

"Sticks has done their best to check up on the scar every so often but they... really don't know what to do. Haven't seen a professional about it in a long time, probably a good thing you're checking here," they said, relatively calm, all things considered.(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/09/2018**

.

Bowline turned around, resigned, a vocabulary trim seemed to be required. No matter, she had simplified before, she could do it again. Clearly his frame was responding to some stimuli, or else it would not be acting so, yet... he didn't seem to pick up on the feeling? She would need to be crystal clear then. With a sigh she resumed her seat, still far enough away to let him know she wouldn't participate, but close enough to be a reassuring presence. Walkthrough it was, "I am sorry for confusing you. I will try to speak more clearly. I will help you but I will not join in, understand?" She looked down at him for emphasis, optic bright, unwavering. One day she would explain to him power dynamics, when his vocabulary was decent enough to understand the terms she would need to use, but until then a solid 'no' would have to do. Had the bot not been taking himself apart earlier she would already have left, but now she seemed to be rather committed. Poor thing, fucked over by mass-production. 

"What I meant was... touch," Bowline said, "every bot's self-servicing styles are different. That is what this is called, self-servicing. It is not a good idea to talk about in polite company, but since we are here it is okay to talk about," She nodded, hopefully giving off an encouraging atmosphere, she wondered how much of her body language was reading for this mech, "Generally a good place to start is stroking the spike, do you know what I am talking about or do we need to review the names?" If her read was right, the mech would try something then and there, whether or not he seemed to understand would then drive her future decisions. She did not intend to watch this poor mech overload, but perhaps he would need some further explanation. Primus knows, he had a lot to learn.

##  **Betta132** **12/09/2018**

Scalpel hissed through her dentae in an expression of sympathy, moving slowly to avoid startling them, and carefully stroked a fingertip up the scar. "Well... gotta say, for a bot with no training and barely-functioning servos, that's... really not as bad as it coulda been. It's... pretty bad, though, we gotta do somethin' about that. Not right now, you got enough stress to deal with, but at some point we are gonna need to... oof. Put you under, cut out that scar and replace it with clean metal, fix those plates... put everything back in the right shape, essentially. Which I will  _ not _ do with you awake. But, hey- didn't  _ sign _ anything here, just fucked it up. Right- close that up, take a few deep vents, try an' settle," she ordered, taking her servos away, and sighed quietly. "Yeah- I can work with that. So, you want to work on that tank now? That's gonna be... odd to watch. You still want an audience, or you wanna just get positioned so you can watch it yourself?" 

.

##  **Betta132** **12/09/2018**

Doom slumped back in satisfaction as Bowline stayed, relaxing slightly, and pushed the blankets away to look down at his equipment again. Albeit with a grumble of "not stupid, know what things are". Glancing up to Bowline in what was clearly a search for approval, he wrapped a servo around his spike and squeezed lightly, hips rocking slowly into the stimulation. It took a moment for his frame to fully sort everything out, but when it did, he groaned softly and slumped back, pleasure starting to pool low in his belly. "Nngh- oh,  _ that's _ \- h _ aah _ , right. Oh. Oh, I  _ like _ that," he growled, optics dimming slightly, thighs splaying apart as he fisted his spike- though, rather roughly. And then,  _ ah _ , an idea- 

She'd said 'no'. Patches had made it very clear that, if someone said 'no', you did NOT push further. So he wouldn't ask again, fine, but maybe he could get  _ her _ to ask. Not that he really knew how to do that, but, hm- what was tempting? Spreading his thighs further, he glanced up at Bowline again, biting his lip like he'd seen bots do in vids, and pushed two fingertips roughly against his valve. It didn't quite work as he'd planned, though- instead of spreading himself open nicely, he pushed dull claws against his valve lips, and immediately jerked back with a sharp hiss of discomfort. He hadn't  _ cut _ himself, but it hurt, more than he would have expected anything to hurt from just a little motion. Ow. Another long, slow growl, and, slowly, he lowered his servo again, touching as gently as he could.

That actually worked! A careful rub, then another, and he managed to slide his fingertips into himself instead of jabbing at something. But, of course, he then got overconfident again, tried to push his fingers deeper, and succeeded- but slightly too well. His valve clamped, hard, around the sudden and moderately unpleasant intrusion, and Doom hissed again, bothered and in mild pain, letting go of his spike. " _ Fuck _ . That's not-  _ stupid _ frame," he hissed, jerking a couple of times in an attempt to get his fingers loose, and failed to do anything more than rile his frame up slightly. Growling, he slammed his free servo down on the bed, failed to get anything like a satisfying noise out of it, and slammed his servo down on his  _ chassis _ instead, denting the plating instead. Growling, tense, and vulnerable, he hunched slightly into himself, staring at Bowline, somehow looking defensive and completely helpless at the same time. 

Again- not going how he'd planned. He'd almost started to feel good, the itching had faded away and started to settle into something nicer, and then he'd gone and gotten his stupid servo stuck in his new valve. It hurt. " _ Fuck _ these  _ servos _ , couldn't have given me anything  _ decent _ , had to give me this  _ junk _ , didn't even give me a  _ valve _ , can't go  _ find _ someone because I'm gonna  _ break _ them-  _ fuck! _ "

##  **Malusdraco** **12/09/2018**

Spade's chassis snapped together as soon as Scalpel's servos were clear. They heaved a big sigh and grimaced, "there's no way I could watch I'd-" they imagined the picture of someone cutting a hole into their organ and retched. It took a few kliks to pull their mind together, "No. It's not. No. Burner could you spectate. I want to trust Scalpel, I really do but I don't know if later my mind's gonna make a field day out of it"

"Don't want you pulling yourself apart after surgery, yeah. "Burner said, flipping her visor back up to look Spade in the face, her expression wore some doubt, "I...  _ think _ I'll be okay watching, but I don't understand what makes  _ me _ more trustworthy than her? She's the medic here."

"You're easier to read. And I've been in your mind, all logic points to you being the same as the person I've gotten to know," Spade looked away, letting their helm fall back onto the pillow, "that's how I've been justifying it at least. Further constraints come from my complete and utter inability to take anything moderately gorey and the fact that this needs to happen as soon as possible. Therefore,  _ by logic _ the only option here is to use you as a witness and assume you would pick up on any ill intentions." they shook their helm slightly, "there is one path forward, enough logical conclusions can forgo liabilities like trust."

.

Bowline moved quickly to grab Doom's free arm, "If you do that enough times you will die. I assume you do not want that to happen, correct?" She lowered her helm sternly, "if it makes any difference, I do not want that to happen either." She held on for a moment longer and finally released him, letting her servo rest on his shoulder instead, a friendly point of contact might be useful in this situation, "equipment does not work like most things. You need to be gentle. You need to be slow. I guarantee you it will feel better than going right in fast and rough. You need to find what feels good and play with that until it starts feeling bad at which point you stop." She leaned in a little and dimmed her optic a bit trying to be gentler, "you will learn in time what you like. You will figure out what hurts and what does not. You just need to take it slow. There are two options here: the painful way and the tricky way. I could pull your arm until your fingers come out of your valve but that would be unpleasant for both of us. What I would suggest instead is that you slowly move your free fingers to touch the area around your valve until it loosens up again. Stay away from your node as that will likely make the problem worse." 

Bowline sighed, "Valves are difficult, they have more sensors than spikes do and so are much easier to hurt. I will not tell you how to do this but I would recommend not dealing with your valve until you are ready to be more gentle."

##  **Betta132** **12/09/2018**

"Hey- don't need you to trust me. Just need you to hold still," Scalpel shrugged, and left to go and get her supplies. She'd worked with patients who could barely manage to hold still for her to touch, and some who  _ couldn't _ . Compared to them, Spade wanting supervision was nothing. 

Once back in the room, she set out her supplies where Spade couldn't see them, in order to hopefully not unnerve them, and lightly stroked their stomach again for a moment. "If it helps, this at least isn't going to be too bloody. Surgery in non-emergency circumstances is a lot less of a mess. Just... vent, nice and deep," she ordered, coating her servos in something thoroughly slick that smelled of antiseptic, then carefully slid her servos between muscle cables again. A few quick, practiced motions, and she'd placed a spreader that kept the cables apart, revealing their gestation tank. A careful motion with two fingers isolated an energon line from the rest, and she injected a dose of a glinting silver sedative, lightly squeezing the line to increase pressure in that area and push the sedative along. "That's gonna numb your whole frame up a bit, and should knock out every nerve in this area. Not gonna cut into you while you can feel it." 

.

##  **Betta132** **12/09/2018**

Doom tensed sharply at her approach, armor flaring, but relaxed slowly when she didn't do anything other than stop him from. Well. Punching himself. And then touch him, again. Not quite how he'd hoped, but it was  _ calming _ , and he leaned slightly into the touch as he glared down at himself in frustration. A cautious glance up at Bowline, and he slowly lowered his free servo, doing as he was told. Soft, careful touches around his valve, hesitant, tentative, gradually increasing slightly in confidence. That... was starting to feel surprisingly good, and a glint of  _ hope/intrigue/enjoyment _ shimmered through his field. 

After a moment of that, and  _ not _ of abrupt stretching and prodding, his calipers un-clenched, and he was able to get his fingers out. Which he immediately did, with a rather triumphant huffing noise, and stared at the lubricant on his fingers for a few seconds before wrapping that servo around his spike. He was clearly contemplating something, optics narrowed, shifting to get into a rather precise position- one he remembered seeing. Legs apart, one pede propped on the berth, valve exposed but not being touched yet, annd...

A long, slow stroke,  _ clearly _ something he'd seen before by the practiced-but-clumsy motion, and Doom groaned in soft, distinct pleasure as everything throbbed wonderfully. " _ Hnnnh _ , oh," he muttered, turning his gaze up to Bowline, the tense, angry lines around his optics softening until they vanished entirely. "Found it. Feels... really good. Hhah. Good," he trilled, and, optics glinting, squirmed in what he  _ hoped _ was an enticing manner as he continued to stroke his spike. "Wanna stay?" 

That was fine, right? He wasn't asking to  _ interface _ , just... suggesting that she not leave. Maybe if she stayed long enough, she'd want to frag. "I can be pretty." 

...he did not know how to be pretty, but maybe he could bluff enough.

December 10, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

Spade made an unpleasant face and sighed, looking away, "Not like I haven't experienced that before. Don't recommend."

Burner made to pull the other berth over, dragging it against the ground for a couple feet until she figured out how to unlock the wheels. She was tired of standing. Once close enough she levered it's height up a bit more and sat down, "Got a good view now." She seemed calmer, not her usual springy self, but the empathetic tension had left her face. She took a few candies out of subspace and put them down next to her then leaned down to look at Spade, an expression of amusement playing at her features.

"What," Spade said, preparing for something stupid.

"Just thinkin," a smirk, "Feel free not to answer but... What's it like being a spy?"

Spade frowned a bit, "Why... do you wanna know?"

Burner shrugged, "thought I'd never met a spy until now. Figure you might have some insight on living is all."

"Insight, huh?" Spade said, optic twitching bitterly, "Don't push down every emotion you have in pursuit of someone else's goal and always assume people are lying."

"Huh, well, not gonna say that's all bad advice. But-well, look where it got you."

"Strapped to a berth on a scavenger hunt for traces of a sadistic maniac's obsession with me, yeah"

"Nah- well," Burner leaned forward and put her servo on theirs, "that and you're alive, plus you've got friends-"

"We'll fucking see" Spade interjected.

"Mech not everyone is like you," Burner said, laughing, "I think you'll be surprised. Anyway, your finger's stopped twitching, I'm pretty sure you're ready."

"My wh?-wait," Spade turned their helm, shifted their shoulders a bit, their mind felt a bit hazy, "you're right I don't feel anything. Chassis has stopped aching for sure at least."

Burner sat back, a pleased look on her face, "Every so often I'm right about something."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

.

"I have no doubt you can be," Bowline said, standing up, "I did say, however, I would not participate." She gave Doom's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. The mech was so  _ earnest _ it became quite clear he simply needed some company. She would oblige, he was starting to grow on her, however, "Truth be told I do not feel comfortable staying. That being said, I would very much like to talk to you more once you have gotten your charge all sorted. I will wait outside, come get me when you are finished and have cleaned up."

Bowline turned to walk to the door, turning back at the threshold, "Remember to be gentle with your equipment. If you get stuck again, go slower, touch, you will do well," she paused and cocked her helm, deciding on an addition, "No overload will quite compare to your first. Believe me when I say it is better off experienced alone. Savor it."

With that she turned and exited, using her entire frame to block the door as much as possible so nobody would accidentally see the contents of this strange mech's panel. True to her word, she sat down outside, next to his door, letting her frame knock against the wall with an audible  _ crash. _ Hopefully he'd appreciate it.

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

Largely ignoring the banter, Scalpel pinched and prodded at the general area, testing for any sort of response, then glanced up to Spade's face. "Now would be the time to stop looking," she warned, then lifted a scalpel, cupped the organ carefully in other other servo, and slit just the outer layer of the tank. She wasn't about to give graphic details to her still-conscious patient, but she kept talking, voice soft and steady. Everyone knew, at this point, that when the medic was talking you were probably fine. "The gestation tank has two layers. The external layer is thicker, protective, and can only expand slowly, while sparklings tend to grow in spurts. To keep up with that, the external layer expands separately than the internal, a steady expansion, and any gap between the layers is filled by liquid. I only have to replace part of the external layer. Much easier than the internal, but I still have to be careful of scarring so it can stretch, in the event that you decide to put it to use. Now... steady." 

Moving carefully, she cut a smooth oval around the signature, removing it fully but keeping as much of the original material as possible, and released her grip on the organ as she lifted the scarred patch out. "Got it. You doin' okay so far, Spade? That patch is gonna take a li'l while, I need to try and fool your frame into not realizing it's an artificial substance so your nanites will colonize it properly. Otherwise the outer and inner layers will scar together. Gestation tanks are... not the trickiest organ to deal with, but they're picky little slags." 

.

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

Doom gave an oddly pitiful whining growl as Bowline left, plating lifting up slightly in hopes of reestablishing contact, but didn't try to follow her up. The noise of her settling against the wall helped a bit- she hadn't left, she'd promised to stay, and that was nice even if she wasn't actually  _ here _ . So, optics fixed on the door, Doom settled back and begun to stroke his spike again. Long, slow strokes, getting a bit gentler, thumb stroking over the head of his spike now and then. Ex-venting harder, he relaxed back against the berth, optics dimming, pleasure shimmering up his spine as his frame figured out what it was doing. Groaning softly, he propped one pede up on the berth and ventured his other servo down to touch his valve again- this time, much more carefully, rubbing at his valve lips instead of trying to push inside. That had hurt! He could have stood it if he'd needed to, but he didn't need to. This was play. It was supposed to feel good. 

And it did. Optics shuttering, Doom groaned softly and settled in, helm lolling to the side as he kept stroking. Nice and gentle, then faster, squeezing slightly harder, fingertips sliding over the leaking slits hidden just under each ridge. Patches had given him lube glands in his spike -something about "it'd be useful for everyone, and especially someone your size"- and those were  _ more _ than worth taking advantage of. They made everything slick and wet and  _ amazing _ , nngh,  _ fuck _ -

As his charge built, he began to pump his hips in quick thrusts, fucking his own servo with a snarling growl of pleasure, gripping the berth hard with his free servo for support. Harder, harder- 

His frame may have been uncertain at first, but it wasn't  _ now _ , charge surging through him as new coding and dormant instincts stirred themselves properly to life. Fangs bared at nothing in particular, he worked his spike with the servo not ripping long trenches into his berth padding, panting harshly as he rocked his hips up and- 

And came, fast and hard, back arching up as lightning bolts of charge jumped from his frame to his surroundings and back. Doom outright  _ howled _ in bliss, back arching up off the berth, then shuddered, moaned, and relaxed, curling onto his side. 

 

It took him a little while to get himself gathered up again. When he did, he blinked, sat up, scrubbed at his belly with a blanket, and prodded his spike back into its housing so he could shut his covers. He didn't want to wait here. He wanted to go and- 

Well. He wanted to go do what he did, which was stagger over to his door, open it, and immediately sit down right next to Bowline, optics on her for any signs of- anything. Approval, hopefully?

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

Spade gave an unsure hum, "Well I can't feel what you're doing so I guess that means I'm doing fine." The soft drone of Scalpel's voice was all they could really focus on, pay too much attention to what she was saying and what was happening would sink in a little bit too deep. Their optic twitched slightly. Everything was too much and not enough all at once. They focused on Burner's face and tried to drown out the various voices shouting in their head. By now she knew the deal, watch and be watched. Her expression was somewhat concerned. She brought a servo up to her chin and absentmindedly stroked her jaw with her thumb. She didn't have the morbid fascination with gore Salvo did, but this was... this was fine, she could do it for Spade, no energon going everywhere, everyone was calm, well, mostly. She stole a glance at Spade's face and was immediately caught shirking her duty. Spade inhaled as if to say something, frown accumulating, just as Burner looked back with a small smirk. They were okay. 

"Believe you've got the third part of your collection, Spade," Burner said, glancing quickly over to where Scalpel had put the piece. The bot said nothing, she could almost feel their tension levels rising. Time to fix that. She sat up a little straighter and stretched her arms out above her helm, still watching Scalpel's servos, "gonna need a real good fragging after all this."

"Primus, really Burner?" Spade said, incredulous, "how can you still be horny."

"A frame has  _ needs _ Spade," Burner crooned.

Spade was silent for a few kliks, "pull your spike out in here and I'll find a way to bite it off I swear to Primus."

"I invite you to do so," Burner said, stealing another look again, that slight smile returned.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

.

Bowline's helm inclined a little bit at the noise. The walls were fairly thick, enough to give most people privacy for their own excursions save for, well, that. Evidently he was successful. She waited patiently for Doom to collect himself and turned to look at him when the door opened. Her gaze followed him as he sat down next to her. He didn't even invite her back in the room with him, immediately sat down. She let out a short sigh, just a hint of amusement. The people on this ship were generally pretty nice but even she knew she spooked some people. She could feel the stares too, usually out of morbid curiosity or pity. She was unavoidable, she knew, and naturally intimidating to most. But this mech, he looked at her nonjudgmentally, no fear, no pity, even desire, however misplaced she believed it to be. It was deeply refreshing. 

"I did not hear any more loud crashing, I assume your itching problem has been solved. Do you feel better now?" Bowline lowered her helm a bit, giving his frame a once-over, as she suspected, an attempt at cleanliness with little success, "Tell me about it and then go wash up. It is my duty to tell you that it is generally frowned upon to interact in public with transfluid and lube on your frame," she gestured towards the general direction of the hall's washroom, "best practice is to keep berthroom and public activities separate."

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

"If you take your spike out in here, I am going to shut you in one of those cabinets until we're done," Scalpel scolded, pointing sternly at Bowline -with a pair of scissors, no less- and half-glaring at her. "You and your spike can  _ wait _ . Or, again- you can go hit on Patches. He'll prob'ly accept. Now, see...  _ this _ is a non-emergency surgery. We're all calm, no one is hurting or in any serious level of distress. I can carry on a reasonable conversation and tell you that I am not going to frag you. An' you better not be giving yourself a surgery kink! I am not obligin' that. Nor am I watchin' you, so you can stop bein' sexy at me, I am  _ busy _ ." 

Humming softly, she cut out a suitably sized patch of the replacement material, then took Spade's tank in servo again and began to carefully thin out the edges of the cut tank layer. She'd have to slim this down so the overlap of the patch wouldn't be too thick and stiff. But... might be best not to talk about this too much. Aside from extreme generalities. "Good news is... not seein' any concerning scars around here. There's... hm, one right here. After I finish this patch, I'm gonna thin that scar out a li'l bit, might as well while I'm in here. Make it easier on your frame if you ever wanna carry. If not... won't hurt anythin' to take care of that. Now, Spade... you think you could handle checkin' the rest of your armor over for yourself? Take it off properly, with the latches, without any damage? You seem settled down some. Think you'd handle that? Once we figure out how much of your plating is nastied up, we can decide how to deal with those pieces." 

.

"Better," Doom hummed, but didn't get up or want to get up. A look down at his front, then he shrugged and propped his knees up to largely hide the smears of fluid, tapping absently at his own shins with one set of claws. "Felt good. Patches gave me... things, for extra slick. Said it was a good idea because I'm this big. Made a mess," he commented, looking down at his servo, and licked lightly at his fingertips for a moment. "Tastes nice, though. And I tried my valve- just a little. Not inside. I think claws might not be good for that," he commented softly, turning his arm over, and lightly tapped a spot underneath it. "Or- practice? I can do guns. I'm good with guns, so I can be accurate. Little, delicate things, I can do that much. But valves care if you scratch them. Maybe I can put something soft on them. Or... there's toys. Maybe I can get toys. Or find somebody with soft servos," he mused, quiet, and edged just slightly closer to Bowline. She seemed friendly. Maybe it was all right to scoot in and lean his shoulder against hers a bit? He was supposed to ask before touching people smaller than him, but she wasn't smaller than him. In fact- 

A pause, and he looked Bowline up and down for a moment, then smiled slightly and bared his fangs. "You're bigger than me. Who do you interface with? I want to find someone, but... all the small bots are so fragile, I don't want to hurt them. But you're  _ bigger _ than me. If someone can take  _ you _ , they can take me."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

Burner leaned back a bit, winglets twitching upward, and  _ blushed, _ optics wide, well she wasn't really horny before but now... She shook her helm to try to clear her mind, thankful that Scalpel had her attention on Spade. Real casual-like she brought one pede up on the berth, stacking her forearm on top and burying the majority of her face in it, save for her optics, which were now firmly focused on what she was supposed to be looking at. This was not going to get any better if anyone noticed, especially if they thought she'd orchestrated it. Ohhhh she was stupid. 

Spade was distracted too, looking up at Scalpel instead. They sighed, "I think so. There's... nothing that could really top what he's already done, I think... I hope... I might just take everything off and sort it later. I'm..." another melancholy sigh, "I'm  _ exhausted. _ " They resumed watching Burner and squinted a bit, she'd shifted. This wasn't entirely odd except that her posture was... very practiced, optics a little too bright, too wide, winglets placed just a bit too high. She was quite unusually focused on their abdomen, moreso than she was before. Oh no... Spade smiled, oh  _ dear. _ They held in laughter. That was a classic 'trying to look casual' Burner pose. They caught her optic glancing back to them and watched her winglets hitch up a bit higher. They didn't want their witness to get thrown out but Primus that was funny. Evocative too. They'd not  _ seen _ Burner's so-called "sex tape" but judging by that they could imagine what was on it.

"What was that about a surgery kink?" Spade said, frame trembling a little as trying to hold their laughter was getting harder.

Burner tried to glare at them but couldn't stay angry past a split-klik of seeing the smile on their face, "Mech you know we were  _ both _ hurling when Sticks brought in both halves of Draft. I  _ remember _ that fucking moment- what are you laughing at."

Spade  _ was _ laughing now, unable to really stop themself now and soon Burner joined in- the kind of awkward 'sure I'll make fun of me too' laugh, laced with relief. Yeah, they were going to be okay.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

.

"Truth be told, I have not interfaced in a very long time," Bowline said. Interesting and unsurprising that he would do as she said automatically. This was a good sign in a bot this impressionable. She angled slightly so Doom had more frame to lean on, the mech needed the contact and the warmth of another frame almost as big as hers was rather inviting, "I could not convince anyone to follow me to berth after empurata and even then I was not doing so out of urge, only some desperate reach for normalcy." She paused, perhaps a bit more personal than this mech needed, "Historically my partners were largely people my own size. There were many astrodock workers in close quarters. However, choice was not really a factor, there. We did what we needed to do. I have not interfaced with anyone smaller than-" She paused again, cocking her helm and setting a servo at where she'd expect Aphelion's height to be, about half her height fully standing, "The key is to listen to them and to be gentle above all. You know now what it is like to hurt your valve, you do not want to do that to anyone else."

Bowline was quiet for a bit and sighed, perhaps now was the time to explain orientation, "It is also worth noting most of my partners were femmes, or later became them. I do not much find myself inclined towards mechs, and never truly did -my apologies if that was disappointing to you. As for your prospects, Bracer, is large enough and seems active enough to have the potential to say yes. Patches is a hardy bot, and knows a great deal about interface, my recommendation is to ask him first. However do not be disappointed at a 'no' answer. You could use much more practice."

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

"Right, I'm gonna-" 

Hm. Neither of them was listening. Scalpel looked back and forth between the two of them, then huffed, planted her servos on the berth, and leaned in to glare at Burner more closely, winglets up in what was clearly a scolding posture. "You think that's funny? If you go an' give yourself a damned surgery kink, I am  _ not _ gonna indulge it! I do not need to be formin' connections between surgery an' my own reward centers! Because if I go an' do that, if I start associatin' surgery wi' kinky things, my processor is gonna start shuntin' my servo input into the 'sexy' category when ah'm actually tryina do  _ surgery _ !" she complained, though her winglets were canting slightly and her optics were glinting in something almost like amusement. 

"Do you want me explainin' that to a patient? 'Oh, sorry, I can't finish your surgery, 'cos if I put my servos back in yer frame I am probably gonna pop my spike out right here', huh? Do you want me explainin' to Patches that I can't help 'im save people any more 'cos it's turnin' me on? Do you want me explainin' to people that I can't be a medic any more 'cos a bratty li'l sub got a surgery kink an' now I can't look at my own damned namesake without gettin' horny, huh? 'cos I feel like, ya know, people prob'ly want there to be an extra medic 'round here more'n they want you gettin' yer kinky li'l rocks off! Now quit bein' horny at me while I'm tryina do surgery! Primus, d'you get turned on if yer fightin' someone an' they pin you against a wall?"(edited)

She was playing. This was something she did occasionally, mostly because it made Patches and Acus start giggling furiously and even got a smirk or two out of Forceps. Take a legitimate complaint and exaggerate it out to its exaggerated and unlikely result, complete with faux-passion. Nor was she done! "If you get a surgery kink, I am  _ not _ gonna frag you any more, I am gonna- Pit, I don' even know who'd oblige you on that one! Medics don' do that- you think people wanna have a medic they know's got a surgery kink? You think people wanna picture their medic bein' horny at 'em while they're all cut open? You had better not think that's sexy! I ain't playin' along with yer damned- hypothetical surgery kink!  _ Stop giggling while I do surgery! _ You ain't allowed ta giggle durin' your own damn operation!" 

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

"Ffh, gentle," Doom scoffed, hunkering down against the wall and leaning more firmly into her frame, tucked up in a rather protective posture. Knees to his chassis, arms tucked up close and servos shielded against his chassis almost like how medics tended to shield their servos. He was trying to protect his forearms, mostly. It didn't seem to be out of any form of nervousness, only habit, a comfortable and safe way to sit. "Everything needs gentle. I already  _ asked _ Patches. He called me his 'oversized a-dop-ted child' and said it'd be weird. Pfh. But I like Bracer, except the tiny one on him fusses at me. There's the- with the-" a pause, gesturing around his frame and up from his back in a manner that more or less conveyed Avalon's armor, "-but he stares and doesn't talk. Don't think he likes me. Didn't  _ do _ anything! Just doesn't like me." 

Cocking his helm to look up slightly, he pondered Bowline's general helm area for a moment, then scoffed lightly again. "Looks weird. Don't care. Everybody looks weird. Don't have to fuck your  _ face _ , the fun parts aren't there. Being silly," he muttered, helm tilted, crouching to get a look at everything up underneath, then scoffed again and just settled firmly against Bowline. "Warm. Bet your valve's hot. But- fine. You don't want to.  _ I _ want you to, but- fine. Okay. I know not to make you. That's bad. Hurts people."

He knew what he was talking about, here, and he liked when he knew what he was talking about. Very softly, he added "don't want to hurt people like that, different than fighting, it's  _ bad _ ", and lightly petted Bowline's arm in an absent gesture as he considered things. "I like when people tell me things. I... don't know very many things. Yet. I got made, and they didn't put very much in my mind. Just how to fight. They didn't give me things about how to... people. So now I have to figure it out. But I'm not stupid! I'm not. I know things! I learn things! I know a lot of things about machine guns. And how to make people stop fighting you. And how all the organs break if you tug on them when they're in a dead thing," he listed off, tapping his arm with one servo, pricking light claw-marks into the already damaged plating. "And I know how to find the parts you can drink out of and not spill or have it taste bad. And the good parts to chew on. Don't think that's any good for you, though. Can't chew on things. Got no lips. Hard to pour things down your throat when your throat's got mu-til-ations in front." 

That was clearly another new word for him, as he slowed down quite a bit, pronouncing it carefully. He knew this word, and he liked this word! It was a good word to describe very, very bad things that had happened to somebody's body. But it was a difficult word. Regardless, he was looking up at Bowline as he spoke, checking for some sort of response. After a moment, he blinked, huffed a sigh, and gestured at her general face area. "This is slag. Just learning how to do faces, and now you've got no face. Don't know how to do not-face. There's no- with the-"(edited)

A moment of silence, prodding at his own brows, then he huffed again and ex-vented softly. "Stupid- them with the lenses and the- the making people do things, and the taking people's faces, and the building people for things and building them  _ bad _ ," he complained, lightly punching his own knee (it had been creaking annoyingly lately), and stared moodily at the floor. "Can't even punch them because they're  _ dead _ , and the- the one with all the twitchings and the tail ate one. But it's not in him any more, so I can't even punch that."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

Spade was  _ howling. _ They didn't normally do that, but this day was a strong contender for about the worst it had ever been. Their entire frame clung to the brief respite from madness.

"It's-It's like 'listen I know you're bleeding out but just hold on gotta go rub one out real quick,'" Burner said, her blush only deepening, as she pumped her arms, miming running out of the room, "you got your arm in up to your elbow in someone's frame and-and just -'wait a minute.'"

"Maybe it's your turn to be the sexy medic, Burner. Can't run  _ you _ outta town for malpractice," Spade joined in, having calmed down enough to speak. 

"I'll-I'll just get a- bloody fuckin pair of scissors and stick em in my mouth like-" Burner sat up and flourished, " _ Hey ladies. _ Who wants me to cut them open  _ I'm a physician. _ " She had angled herself towards Spade in an attempt to occupy their attention for even the slightest bit longer. Finally hearing them laugh was deeply gratifying, even at her own expense. She continued, "That being said, Scalpel  _ please _ fight me and pin me against the wall. I dare you. You would be surprised how well people can fight completely aroused." 

Another chuckle from Spade, " _ flirting _ over my open fucking frame. You're incorrigible, Burner, you and your weird fetish."

"Listen," Burner said leaning over and waggling a finger at Spade, smile still on her face as her winglets twitched a bit, "I reject any and all accusations that this is becoming a kink."

"Course not, I know it's her voice you predictable fucking bottom," Spade said, satisfied to see Burner's blush get brighter. The femme returned to her watching, servo covering her mouth, but still laughing.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/10/2018**

.

Bowline nodded and was silent for a while, "It is difficult to know those who hurt you got away with it. It is difficult that now there is no other option but to accept there is nothing left to do. We must simply continue on." Her voice began to change, modulating to fit the flow of the sentence, ever-so-slightly at first but increasing quickly as she took up her orator's mantle again, "You are allowed to be angry at them but know that is what they want. They want you angry. They want you not to learn, not to grow. If you stay angry at them it means you are still focused on them, not seeing what is at your back, the future you could have." She would be gesturing if she were younger, passion beaming through her field like the rays of a dying sun. But she wasn't, she sat motionless against the wall, voice the only indicator she was truly thinking, "They can control you by your anger even after they are long gone and that is what is most insidious about them. You cannot make them hurt, no, I cannot either, but you  _ can _ disgrace their names, prove to yourself that you are more than what they envisioned for you." 

Bowline paused, a theatrical silence as well as a way to realign herself. When she spoke again her voice was as normal, deep, sonorous, monotone, "Fortunately you are already doing just that. It does not feel like retribution, but it is. Now tell me, mech, what is your name?"(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

"Oh, no, it's  _ worse _ than that," Scalpel complained, gesturing at Burner with the scissors again as she finished trimming up the new patch, deeming Spade still enough to get back to work. "You know I have at least as many sensors in my servos as in my whole array, right? Just about very medic with medics'-class servos can get off on nothin' but servo stimulation. Which, by the way, is why you two gotta be careful 'round Sticks now, 'cos o' that, but, anyway- wouldn't be runnin' outta the room to jerk off. It'd be comin' damn near overload  _ during surgery _ . An' medbays get messy enough without another kind o' fluid everywhere! You li'l- 'fucking bottom' is a good description- gonna have people slippin' on transfluid in my damn medbay, and, dear Primus, seriously, if you transfer yer damn hypothetical kink onto me, then  _ you _ get ta explain it to Patches, because I am not tellin' his stupid cute teddy bear face 'bout why I can't do surgery any more. Now quit bein' horny at me! I will fight you  _ after _ this. Brat," she muttered, and aimed a slightly exasperated, vaguely fond look at Spade. This whole "embarrass Burner to distract Spade" thing was working out pretty well. "Gonna have to spank her again, I think." 

She had to be careful with applying the patch. Nice and gentle, smooth, easy motions, lifting the outer layer of the gestation tank away from the inner, working slowly. There was no rush. She liked not having to rush.

.

##  **Betta132** **12/10/2018**

Doom puffed up slightly and growled, claws scraping against his forearm plating- which was already marked heavily from similar motions. This must have been a frequent gesture. "I can't punch being angry! I can't even- I can't  _ emotions _ . They only gave me 'angry' and 'nothing'. I'm just getting the new ones, but I'm not good at them yet. And I'm not good at angry, either. Not around people. I throw things. I don't throw them  _ at _ people! Just... at things. Because otherwise I  _ do _ want to hit people. And things."

And then she asked for his  _ name _ , and he absolutely  _ beamed _ . His armor fluffed, his bio-lights brightened, and his optics shone as he puffed up his chassis. "Doom! My name is Doom, and I  _ earned _ it. I have a  _ name _ . They didn't give me a name, I'm not supposed to have a name. But I do now. And I'm  _ alive! _ " he trilled, armor still lifted happily as he leaned into Bowline's frame again. "I'm not supposed to be alive. They made me to kill a lot of people and then die. But I didn't die! I didn't want to. And then there was a crashed ship. Big one. Engine still" quick, sputtering motions with both servos, akin to machinery struggling to move, "-and the scanners can't see in if the engines are doing that. So I told the others they should hide too, so they wouldn't die, and I went and I sat next to the engine until everything was dead. And when they came to pick up the ones that didn't die, they didn't find me, because I didn't come out for them to find. I fooled them! I wasn't supposed to know enough to fool anybody. I wasn't supposed to know that I was going to die. But I knew! And I didn't want to die all big, like the others wanted so someone would remember. I just wanted to still be alive. So I'm alive!"

He went silent for a moment, armor lowering slightly, then sighed heavily and shook his helm. "The rest aren't, though. Most of the ones that weren't already dead got shot. And then the ship with them all on it exploded. And then they were all dead, but I wasn't. They didn't want to come hide because they said I was being a coward. But I wasn't! I wasn't hiding because I was afraid. I just hid because I wanted to still be alive. I was  _ smart _ . And now they're dead, and I'm not, and the ones who tried to control me are all blown up too. But I'm not! I just have  _ stupid _ joints because they made me to die really fast. I'm not supposed to still be alive." 

Another moment, and he cocked his helm slightly to look at Bowline, optics almost soft. "I like being alive, and I like you being alive. And I want to hug you. People like hugging, but people are too small, I might squish someone. You're not small. You're  _ big _ ."

 

"Spank her? Again?" Spade said, returning to watching Burner's reaction. She was still focused on watching what was going, albeit now perched in a gargoyle-pose on the edge of the berth but her winglets flicked upward and she curled in a bit, as much as her massive chassis kibble would allow. She blinked and blushed farther.

"You're giving me  _ so _ many ideas Scalpel," Burner said quite earnestly and then, "First we cover the entire medbay floor in lube and then we slide- yes  _ slide _ on over to Patches so that I can explain how we're both quitting to go become mimes, sex mimes."

"Is  _ this _ what you did on that sex tape?" Spade said, grinning.

"Yeah, what made you guess?" Burner turned her helm to make a face at Spade, "and then we get off at the nearest planet and find the first willing participant so you do your thing and I can watch until I hurl or overload or  _ both. _ "

Spade let out a harsh 'ha.'

Burner, encouraged, kept going, "and we take video of the whole thing and then sell it to organics as some weird niche cybertronian porn. Make enough shanix to retire and then live happily ever after together where whatever government can't find us and take us in for the crimes we surely will commit during this whole journey." She paused to take a breath, "so yeah those are my ideas, well those and a  _ real nice _ servo massage for you later now that I  _ know. _ Actually to be quite honest mostly just that last part." All the talking had calmed her down too, no longer the only one uncomfortably aroused in the situation, "All things considered, though, Scalpel, you keep telling me off like that there  _ will _ be some fluids on the floor."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/11/2018**

.

Bowline was silent while she listened to Doom's story, leaned forward a bit, optic bright. She stayed silent for a few moments after to gather her thoughts. She spoke slightly quieter when she had put the right words together, "It takes courage to go against orders. Sometimes it even takes courage to live when others die. You made a smart decision, and a brave one at that. By living you are spitting in the faces of everyone who decided you should die so soon. Whenever you are angry at them, remember you are going against them now just by living. I am glad to have met you, Doom. I am glad you are alive, too."

Bowline placed a gentle servo on Doom's shoulder, "I would also like to hug you, however I must insist you wash up beforehand. I will stay here, I promise." By her mark, the mech had a lot of justified rage inside of him. But rage can turn to passion without much effort. That amount of passion could become an enabler of something magnificent. The bot already had a sense of kindness and a good direction about him. He showed distinct promise, all it would take would be time and patience, both of which she had.

##  **Betta132** **12/11/2018**

"I am up for very nearly none of that," Scalpel muttered, leveling a glare at Burner, then huffed and returned to what she was doing. Namely, working on Spade and complaining at them. "Yer damned kinky sub friend is being distracting. And, yes. That's what's on the tape. That and some other things, none of which I intend to make public. That's for someone who- ah, Pit, you'll figure it out. Acus. He doesn't like rough play, but he  _ does _ like to see what I get up to. Ain't for public consumption. Hold still." 

A few minutes of intense focus on getting the patch  _ exactly _ right, then she carefully released his tank, looking things over to be sure. Hm. "There we go. That's just about perfect," she declared softly, and carefully removed the spreader, massaging Spade's stomach until the cables settled back into place further. Once everything was settled, she removed the restraints entirely, tucking them away, and  _ carefully _ nudged Spade upright. "Easy. Your whole midsection's gonna be pretty numb for awhile. Keep in mind that just 'cos you can't feel it hurtin' doesn't mean somethin' isn't wrong. So... ya know what? Here. I got spares," she offered, pressing a small latch-trigger into his servo. A tiny device that was essentially a lockpick, meant to be pressed into a latch and twisted to pop it open without damage. "That's for if the latches don't wanna behave. Now,  _ please _ , be calm. If I let you up lookin' all calm and then you go an' freak out, I am gonna think I can't trust you bein' calm. And by that, I don't mean all... zen n' slag, I just mean  _ not hurting yourself _ , okay?" she huffed, stalking away to wash up again, winglets up as she focused intently on everything. Had to be sure Spade wasn't about to panic and start hurting themself.

.

Doom practically glowed again, shimmying slightly in place, and bolted upright the instant the stipulation was given. Not that he knew what "stipulation" meant. Ooh! Perfect. Well, almost- his pedes had been designed to work properly on rough substrates, not on the floor, and he ended up barging into the opposite wall as he jumped up. Not that he even seemed to  _ notice _ , he just set off towards the washracks at a fairly high speed. Okay! He could do that. 

Transfluid turned out to be much easier to wash off than dried energon, but Doom lingered in the shower for a little while longer, purring deeply, enjoying the sensation. He  _ loved _ showers, it was so easy to get  _ clean _ ! And it was so warm, so nice, with good noises. He... might have to come back in here, actually, later, and try getting himself off like this. But, right now, he had an opportunity he'd rather focus on. 

Optics shining, Doom trotted back down the hall to Bowline, still rather damp but having managed to get clean, and sat down right next to her. Armor lifted, he hesitated for an instant, then leaned in and hugged Bowline.  _ Tight _ , enough that he heard armor creaking, but he didn't care. Nor did he care that he'd more or less climbed into her lap, engine purring low and loud, squeezing her tight and snuggling his face into her throat. Absolutely  _ no _ hesitation whatsoever. He knew how hugs worked! He just hadn't gotten to do enough.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/11/2018**

Spade was still for a while, venting slowly, readjusting to being upright. Being unrestrained opened up quite a few new options, they were no longer forced into one path forward. Burner to one side, Scalpel, still cautious, on the other. It wasn't complete freedom, yet their processor began to resume its usual routing. They twirled the tool in their servo then gripped it. They could try again now. They didn't quite want to, though. They really didn't want to. They brought an unsteady servo to draw their fingertips against the new weld marks on their chassis. That was embarrassing. They didn't like it. 

Burner's playful smile faded as she saw Spade's face fall once again.

Spade sighed and began taking armor off, patiently, just gentle enough not to rip off the latches, starting with the other thigh. They threw it down with a loud clatter on the side of the berth closer to where Trail's other intrusions lay. As they went two piles became clear, marked and unmarked. Spade was not putting them back on, however, simply throwing the unmarked plates off the other side of the berth. As they finished with their legs, they started to shiver. too many energon lines exposed to the cold air of the ship. They barely reacted, simply drawing the blanket further up and resuming their grim search.

The entire time Spade's face was stony, grimly determined, but with an anxious edge one could only see in the way the edges of their optics distorted. They moved onto their arms, shoulders, and finally they paused, what were the odds that creep had hidden something in their servos? Surely they would have noticed... right? Slowly, optics flicking to the two femmes around them, they transformed their free servo. A second set of fingers, smaller, thinner, folded out from their palm to lock upright between their main fingers, which split slightly to shift some supportive armor to the new ones. They flexed, exceedingly gently, to look in between the plates, going so far as to lift the back plate upwards and check underneath. They let out a long sigh, nothing. Thank  _ Primus _ nothing. They transformed their servo back and did the other, quicker now, but just to be sure. The entire time they stole glances at the room, these were particularly nasty to break if anyone tried anything.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/11/2018**

.

Bowline could feel Doom's elation from down the hall and wrapped her arms around him when he did the same. Her optic flashed as his face went close to hers, though, and she jerked her helm back to keep it out of the way. She tilted her helm so far up, a grisly part of her empurata began to show itself, the bare, underlying structure of the bottom of her face. The skeletal remnants of dentae and facial struts popped from behind muscle cables, tendons, and vestiges of neck plating. She had seen it soon after being released back into society and found it too shocking to want to display to everyone. She'd come to terms with the way her frame was, mismatched limbs, non-emotive, single optic, except for that. She rather hated the idea. After a few tense kliks, she turned her helm back down, deeming Doom's helm out of the way enough, and leaned forward into the hug. 

"It seems that even I am not immune to hugs," Bowline said, squeezing a bit tighter. She could feel something within her that very quietly sung at the contact. She would maintain this for as long as he needed, because despite what she'd thought, she needed it too.

##  **Betta132** **12/11/2018**

Scalpel left Spade plenty of room, cleaning up her supplies and busying herself with organization tasks, deliberately not watching them. She was listening, but they seemed calm enough, unlikely to do anything drastic. If they did freak out and start ripping plating off again, she'd hear it and could stop them before they did anything major. They didn't, though. Therefore, she largely ignored them, aside from pausing her work to watch those unusual servos. Still, it was casual- quiet interest, as though this was only vaguely remarkable. 

After a bit longer of Spade doing nothing in particular, she quietly left the room, coming back relatively quickly with a small space heater. Flicking it on, she set it on the berth next to Spade, offering him a cloud of warm air. "There. Can't have you chillin' yourself too much, your vessels will all constrict. Gonna have to advise against leavin' all that plating off long-term, but if you wanna be naked right now, I ain't gonna stop ya." 

Once she ran out of things to do in the room, she looked around in a vaguely aimless manner, then shrugged and sat down on the very end of the berth with Spade. "How you feelin' about things? Answer me honestly, now- you think you'll be okay if we leave you alone, or you think you're gonna hurt somethin'?" 

.

Doom cocked his helm slightly at the sudden motion, curious, and shifted to put his helm slightly further away from hers. He didn't speak for a few long moments, engine purring so hard it shook his entire frame, and only leaned back enough to get a look up at Bowline's face. Face-ish. Lowering his purr to speak clearly, he considered things for a long moments, then spoke- softer than before, but not as if anything was out of the ordinary. "Gonna get stuff in there. If you move and your internals go out, stuff gets in it, and then it grinds when you use it." 

A blink, tilting his helm to try and glimpse the mechanisms again, "but you don't use that any," he observed quietly, settling right next to Bowline, legs in her lap and arms still around her. Comfortable! But, hm. A momentary squint at her entire frame, his servos shifting, and he lowered his plating slightly as he shifted. Bowline was heavy. But not too heavy- right? He could lift her! Probably! Humming, he lowered his servos, shifted his grip, and did in fact manage to- well, not quite lift Bowline, the positioning was wrong, but he managed to get her more or less into his lap. Which was the goal. It also let him plant his face into her chassis, completely unashamed, thoroughly enjoying himself. 

His field was- well, it was odd. As usual. It was present, but it was  _ simple _ , almost unrefined. It wasn't the steady coherence of a bot used to communicating, it wasn't the raw honesty of a bot too emotional or overwhelmed to be coherent, it wasn't the unsophisticated field of a child, it was just... there, and it was almost  _ thin _ . Something like light filtering through a grate- present, but not quite as clear as if the grate hadn't been there. He hadn't been made to clearly communicate with his field.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/11/2018**

Spade glanced at her only for the briefest klik and began taking off what was left of their chassis armor, "Things in general, not good. Feeling a lot of things..." They pried off a piece from under their arm, looked it over and threw it in the unmarked pile, then worked on the same on the other side, making heavy use of the latch tool. Once that was done they sighed again, optics flicking to Scalpel before they reached up and took off their faceplate. They were slow taking it away from their face and soon it became clear why: bare cables, intricate, tiny pistons, unfinished metal.  Evidently the mask was not voluntary. They looked down at the plate and growled, flinging it fast against the far wall before letting their face fall into their servos, "Most of all I'm tired. I want to be able to fucking sleep knowing he's nowhere near me."

Burner leaned forward, partially out of curiosity to see what Spade's mouth looked like underneath their mask, partially to address them, "You want help with your back?"

"I just want to be alone," Spade said, voice like stone as they began the final pieces on their back. A little bit of leverage and they released a large back plate, which they quickly scanned and threw in the unmarked pile. They leaned back on one arm, the exhaustion really starting to kick in, still refusing to look at either of the other bots, "I guess I don't want to die anymore... but that's not a whole lot."

.

Bowline straightened up a bit at the attempt of picking her up, it'd been a while since  _ that _ happened, but was grateful for the softness. "You are correct I do not use what is left of my jaw anymore, save for fuel intake. I have found holding my helm at an angle keeps it mostly covered, which means I do not have to deal with particulate as much as one might think." She demonstrated, looking just slightly downward of Doom, indeed the sight was gone, "It helps that most of my company is smaller than me, so the angle is not unnatural." The mech's statements were straightforward, as were his questions, such curiosity should be encouraged and answered in an equally straightforward manner, she thought. She leaned into Doom and gave him a quick pat, "While we are on the topic, there is something to be said for your armor, Doom. It is not good to take off plating in such a violent manner, and I worry about your chassis plate, which will not fix itself. You spoke about your joints earlier, would you mind my taking a look? You are free to decline of course." She held out a servo where Doom could see, an offer, a suggestion.

December 12, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

"Mech, not wantin' to die is the driver of mostly everything else, including a li'l thing called evolution!" Scalpel scolded gently, shifting around to get a better look at their face. "I can cover all that up if you want. Your choice what you want yer face like, but- if you want it a little less  _ unfinished _ , I can at least wrap all that in somethin' to keep the grit out. And, yeah, at this point I'll buy that you aren't gonna hurt anything. As soon as you're done with all this, I'll find you a couple more blankets, an' you can just... sleep for awhile. Prefer you do it in here, just in case, but... yeah. I'd be willin' to leave you alone. Don't think I'd come back to an emergency. And keep that tool- I got plenty, an'  you need a way to get things off without tearin' anything. Don't make me strap you down again!" 

Contrary to the statement, though, she was detaching the straps from where they were anchored under the berth. "Sorry 'bout these. Figured you'd mind 'em less than me druggin' you," she shrugged, folding them neatly over her arm to store away later, and studied the fastening on one. Hm. Winglets lifting, she slowly and deliberately looked from the straps to Bowline, then took one strap firmly in servo and smacked it against the side of the berth. See if it got any attention. She  _ definitely _ had an idea, and, hey- flustering Burner was evidently a decent distraction for Spade. 

.

"Doesn't come off like normal," Doom complained quietly, turning his half-stripped arm over, and prodded at the edge of one piece of plating. He was right- instead of being latched onto the framework, it was welded on, and hastily at that. "Already welded. Just weld it back. Can't do that with joints, though," he pointed out, turning his arm slightly, and flexed it at a slightly odd angle. Elbow joints didn't exactly like being flexed askew, but most could handle it fine. Doom's, however, gave a horrifying  _ screech _ of metal on metal, and he visibly winced and shook that entire side of his frame. " _ Bad _ . Doesn't- it's rough now. They make  _ noises _ ," the big bot complained, and pushed his arm into Bowline's servo, quite happy to let her do what she wanted. Especially now that she was basically in his lap, he liked this. Nice pressure. He'd always liked having heavy things on top of himself. "The ones inside me aren't as bad, Patches says my frame can fix those, but they made my limbs really fast and didn't use the good metals. Now they're bad, and nobody can fix it without taking my arms off. It's  _ fucked _ ," he remarked, and hunched his shoulders angrily, which also produced a somewhat unpleasant sound.

"Takes too much metal to fix. And cutting. But they're  _ not _ allowed to cut my arms off to fix it! I'm not going to let them. I'm big. I can break all the straps they have, all at once," he bragged, rather overestimating himself, then hunched down into himself slightly again. "Except if Scalpel finds the darts. She has the darts with the drugs. I don't  _ like _ her, she has too many knives and she knows how to cut to make you stop working. She said she would." 

What he  _ didn't _ mention was one very important detail; the threat had been in case Doom ever hurt Acus. Which was fine! That was fair! He understood "don't do this or I'll be upset and hurt you", and Acus was so... quiet. And shaky. Doom would probably also want to take apart someone who hurt him. It just... scared him some, was all, that she  _ could _ . She could put him on the ground and cut him apart and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

 

Burner, who was leaning forward and not really paying attention, sat up abruptly at the noise with so much momentum that she almost lost her balance. Bracing an arm against the side of Spade's berth, she spotted the strap in Scalpel's servo and let out a low laugh, winglets twitching upward, "aw come on, how are you supposed to lecture me about being horny in the medbay  _ now? _ " Burner looked to Spade, who had sat up a bit, looking a touch less depressed, "how are we gonna do 'good femme/horny femme' now? 'Bad femme/horny femme?'"

There was a smile on Spade's face as they turned to take off the last of their armor, "Burner, despite what you seem to think, 'horny' is not a personality."

"'You can't prove something doesn't exist,'" Burner retorted, "your own words, Spade."

"My  _ own words _ used against me? In my time of need?" Spade said, prying a piece off, "cruel, sparkless, how could you do such a thing."

"All in the name of 'horny.'"

"All's fair in love and sex, I guess," Spade put the tool down at last, having taken off as much armor as would come off comfortably. The rest of their back plates were scarred, fitting together in a just-right way that made taking them off or moving them painful. Maybe now there was supplies and competent medics, they'd be able to transform again in the future, but that was a problem for another day. Until then, they stretched their blades one last time, settled them back where they rightfully should be, and lay down, pulling the blanket up to their shoulders, it was time to sleep. They shifted enough to keep both femmes in their sight but were otherwise still.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/12/2018**

.

Bowline nodded slightly, focusing her attention on his arm. Scalpel was indeed a prickly one but only out of protection, a large mech with destructive tendencies would be dangerous to have misbehave in a medbay. She trailed her fingers along the molding lines, up to his elbow, then patted it gently and let it go, "It is scary to think about someone cutting off your arm but, if I may offer a counterpoint, it is not as bad as one would expect it to be, and often it is necessary." She held out her right arm for Doom to see, a round, clawed, silver servo attached to a chunky, purple forearm and a military-grade upper arm with decorative silver plates underneath her natural pauldrons. It was somewhat-obviously of a hodge-podge of different parts, "we did not have the supplies to repair my limbs, so we made do with scavenged parts from local corpses. It was unpleasant at first, but there are things to look forward to. Here you avoid the risks I faced, as well. You may receive painkillers, and you are in a clean environment."

Bowline shifted a bit in Doom's lap and continued, "This is not to push you in any direction, your arms are yours and replacing them is no easy feat, however, it will be a permanent solution to your problem. You will also be able to take armor off without ripping it." She inclined her helm towards the door to his room,  where the rest of Doom's plating still sat, mangled, "The medics are good at their work, but besides that I have a few friends you may wish to talk to regarding issues with your frame."

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

"I'm the CMO, I get to dictate how much horniness is allowed in here," Scalpel declared, smirking the slightest bit at having successfully distracted Spade again- and at Burner's reaction. Mm. "Right. You- sleep. I'll lock this door after me so nobody accidentally comes in, but I  _ can _ get in here if you do somethin' that makes me have to get in here. You are  _ not _ allowed to try and barricade me out, because I  _ will _ get Patches to smash the door down, and I am tired of having to get doors in here fixed. Behave yourself!" she ordered, then turned on one heel, winglets going up, and aimed a stern look at Burner. "And now you got my undivided attention. Congratulations. C'mere." 

She'd never liked having to restrain a distressed patient, and this whole situation had gotten stressful. Which meant that the offer of stress relief, right up close, was oh-so-tempting. Therefore, she marched over to Burner, grabbed the other femme by her scruff, gave her a few instants to orient herself, and led Burner -still by her scruff- out of the room. A pause to lock the door, then she headed off to her berthroom, not letting go of Burner's scruff, semi-playfully scolding her the whole way.  _.:Bratty little slickvalve sub, coming into my medbay all horny. What were you expecting me to do- bend you over one of the berths right out here? Well, fine- you want my attention, you got it. And I got some rope. And...:. _

A pause near the door of her room, and she let go of Burner's scruff, but only to turn and look her in the optics.  _.:I have an idea that I think Acus might be into. Would you like to get him involved? He's shy, you have to be gentle with him, but his servos are more agile than /mine/ are. You wanna try?:. _ (edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

(I know Burner is Lesbian, but I also know that sexual attraction isn't necessarily required to have and enjoy sex with someone, so... hot medic femme and not-unattractive shyboi?)

.

Doom thought quietly for a moment, then sighed, glaring at his arm in general. "My joints are  _ slag _ . I want them better. I  _ like _ when people spend time on me, nobody was supposed to do that. But if they take off my arms, I can't do anything if they try to make something happen that I don't want. Or putting them back on might not work. Maybe I'm made so I can't be fixed. That seems like a thing they'd do, fuck me over even further," he grumbled, servos clenching hard enough that the plating creaked, then huffed, loudly, and shoved his face into Bowline's chassis. Mostly because it was either this or start throwing things, and he didn't have any things to throw that weren't attached to him. Or Bowline. He didn't particularly want to throw Bowline.

He did, however, want to yell into her chassis. "Can't just make someone all terrible like this! You can't just- I was supposed to die! I was built to go and die, and now I'm stuck in this slag heap of a frame instead of something decent because they- expected- me- to- die-" he hissed, smacking his forehelm against Bowline's chassis with increasing force as he spoke, and gripped tighter at Bowline's back. "But it's  _ mine _ ! It's  _ my _ frame, it's  _ mine _ , it's  _ mine _ , I  _ earned _ it by keeping it  _ alive _ , it's  _ my _ frame and they can't  _ have _ it, it's the first thing I got and it's the only thing that  _ nobody _ can take, it's  _ mine _ . And I don't care if they built it! It's not theirs! I live in here now, they don't get it, it's  _ mine _ , and if they try to take it away I'm going to  _ break them _ , because I  _ can _ , it's  _ mine _ , they can't- I-I won't- I won't  _ let _ them take it!" 

Blunt claws gripped tighter, and Doom whined sharply in the back of his throat, shuddering, butting his helm a bit harder into her chassis. His field was starting to build into a storm of shaky, rough, stirring anger, of desperation, of the determination of someone who fully expected that they weren't about to survive whatever they were about to do, his vents kicked up high like someone about to go into battle, and his forearms click-clicked in an effort to transform that was cut off by the lack of power to the guns. There was a reason he wasn't currently allowed to have his guns working, and that was mostly because otherwise he would start shooting things when he got upset.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/12/2018**

Burner gave a dazed wave to Spade as she was tugged along by Scalpel through the door. She could feel her frame tense in anticipation at the femme's grip and flicked her glossa along her lips, "Babe I got all dressed up nice and pretty for ya just  _ hoping _ you'd notice." Now that Scalpel was clearly no longer in work mode, Burner took the chance to ogle. It'd taken her too long, precisely the time when she was walking back from her first night, to notice just how much she liked the way the femme's hips moved when she walked. She was so,  _ so _ ready to take her mind off of what she'd just seen, too much horrific abuse of the frame and  _ way _ too much of Spade. Fuck away her worries? She had no other ideas, "I usually don't do mechs but I've never tried a threesome before. The idea is very tempting. Don't think I've seen a whole lot of Acus either. As long as I get absolutely railed by the end, I'm game." 

Burner shrugged slightly and stopped, bringing her servo up to Scalpel's forearm and trailing it down to her wrist, as close as she could before she felt the telltale tension that signaled 'stop.' She was quite stuck on what the femme had said earlier, she  _ knew _ she could do good things for a medic's servos, she also knew now to be much more careful, "Offer's still open on a servo massage, unless that's a thing your mech does, in which case I defer to him and his good servos."

.

Bowline was quick and exceedingly gentle in pushing her servos past either side of his helm, letting her fingers just barely dance across the plating around his neck and settling them on the backside of his helm, thumbs tracing the underside of his audials. It was almost second-nature. She distinctly remembered the dark days of her revolution from ages past. Bots were scared, angry, desperately wanting change, wanting to believe, they would come to her. This was not so different. 

"It is yours, nobody can take it from you," Bowline said, voice just a hint quieter, "It is yours to modify, to upgrade, or not to change at all. You have a right to your frame that nobody can trespass upon." Here she let go with one servo and pushed it down his back, letting him feel the weight of her full arm as she found a place to lightly scratch. She shifted the other servo to the back of his neck, "Your frame belongs to you but it is not you in your entirety. You are not your frame. Therefore a change in your frame is not a change in you. Whatever parts you might switch out are yours as well. No matter what you decide to do with your frame, you deserve a pain-free life."

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

Scalpel narrowed her optics slightly in consideration, then smirked slightly, purring, stretching both servos and flaring the plating on them. "Lemme sit first, but... if you wanna try, I ain't complainin'. Now- nothin' too rough right now. You want a good pounding, I can do that, but rougher stuff puts him on edge. Just play-spankin' an' such for now. And, hey- no grabbing, all right? Let him come up to you, don't try an' make him do anythin'. He's, uh. Timid. Real subby. You let me handle the domming, a'ight? You'll like him, just... gotta be gentle," she explained, and nudged Burner into her room. Out of public areas. 

A quiet COMM later, and Acus emerged from another side room, winglets up in blatant interest. Optics bright and moving rather as if he was trying to sneak, he wove between the berths to get across the medbay, and slipped through the closing door before it could completely shut. "I'm- y-you want to- oh, goodness. Hello," he squeaked, clearly a bit flustered, hesitating just inside Scalpel's room. "Y-you want to-" 

"Easy," Scalpel purred, and let her field roll out to engulf them both, heavy, warm, and confident. "Don't think it over too hard. Come here. Come here, treasure," she crooned, lifting one servo, her voice slipping easily into a softer version of the dom-voice she'd used on Burner before.

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

An instant of hesitation, optics flicking to Burner again, but Acus' winglets relaxed instinctively at Scalpel's voice and field. Mannerisms smoothing out considerably, he stepped closer and nuzzled his helm into her servo, optics shutting as she stroked his audials, visibly relaxing all over. After a moment, he looked up at Scalpel and offered her a slight, timid smile, his voice slightly more confident than usual as he spoke. "I... have some ideas. For her. Do you... want me to tell you, or...?" 

Scalpel lightly cupped his face in both servos and leaned down the slight distance it took to reach and kiss him, unexpectedly tender given the high cant of her winglets, then let him go and stepped over to her berth. "No. Surprise us. Go get whatever you want to use, and show me what you'd like. I'm sure she'll enjoy it. Now..." her voice hardened slightly, optics steeling, body language shifting to something much less soft-dom and more commanding as she locked her optics on Burner. Sitting comfortably with her pedes on the floor, she set her knees apart and retracted her outer panels, leaving the delicate inner panels in place, and set her servos palms-up on her thighs. "-come here. Sit between my pedes, see what you can do with my servos. You can watch him, but only if it doesn't distract you too much. Right now... your job is to focus on me," she ordered, and, once Burner was in front of her, planted one pede on her thigh to help keep her down. "Good girl."

##  **Betta132** **12/12/2018**

.

Doom shuddered, hard, clearly uncertain of how to react, and his servos clenched considerably tighter on her back before he slowly relaxed. Shivering, he moaned oh-so-softly and went almost totally limp, still curled up comfortably, a bit squished at this point but not caring at  _ all _ . After a few moments of panting harshly, the intermittent clicking noises in his forearms stopped, and he spoke again, a bit quieter this time. "I  _ do _ like having a dick now. That's new. And they had to take out some parts to fit. That was okay." 

Lifting his helm slightly and leaning into the contact, he blinked a few times, rather slowly, his voice  _ almost _ slurring when he continued. "Do... do medics let you keep parts you get taken off? Nobody's... nobody'll want my arms. The joints're bad. They're... nn. I like  _ your _ arms. Like... this," he muttered, and lifted one servo up her back, aiming for her helm. But, wait- she'd flinched from his helm near hers, she probably wouldn't like his servos there. A moment of quiet consideration, and he settled for rubbing low on the back of her neck, trying to mimic her motions. This was something he'd started to get reasonably good at- watching and mimicking others' movements. "Might. Might go'n ask. Does your... does that hurt? 's not... what is that? Not face. The... under a face. Looks like it might hurt."(edited)

December 13, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/13/2018**

Burner felt her fans kick in at the pressure, frame more than ready for the stimulation at last. She looked back towards Acus, slow, practiced, trying to appear much more confident than she was. Her curiosity at the experience had turned into a bit of fluttery nervousness, she had no idea what to expect, what to even do and Acus, it was no secret across the ship the mech was  _ delicate. _ Just how delicate she did not want to find out the wrong way. She decided her best plan was to go slow. Not exactly a simple task for someone like her but not impossible. She would do it, cause she's Burner, and she's good at what she does. 

She shifted her position a bit, letting her other leg fall a bit offset to the one already pinned down, straightened her back and cocked her hips a bit, not a show for Acus even though he had the best view of it, but rather a confirmation for herself.

Giving Acus a slight smile and graceful nod, she turned back to Scalpel. Now which servo was she using the most... Burner took a split-klik guess and reached out toward it with both of her own servos. A massage she knew how to do, find the tension, deal with the tension, but if this was going to be sexy she couldn't fix the problem all at once. Game plan set, she began. She cradled Scalpel's servo in one palm and with the other gently drew the side of her thumb down the centerline of her forearm until it reached about her wrist. She paused and shifted her grip, tracing both thumbs along the outside edges of Scalpel's palm before she started in earnest to look for the lines of tension. Her optics brightened, her winglets hitching up an inch in concentration. She could see the slight tremors in plating if she really concentrated, not as well as she could feel them but going all in was not the point now. Subtlety, teasing out just the right spots, that was the key. So she watched, lightly following the lines of tension with her fingertips a few times, gradually getting slightly harder until she could feel the it ease. And then she moved onto the next one, until eventually she found herself rubbing gently down the length of every finger.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/13/2018**

.

Bowline involuntarily tensed as Doom seemed to reach toward her head but relaxed when she felt his servo lower down. That was not ideal but acceptable. She could attempt to get used to the feeling now that there was not daily imminent danger. "I do not see why they would keep your old parts from you. My closest friend recently had to have their servos replaced. They tell me their partner, a medic, it is not that odd, still has their old ones. Their feelings on their old servos are certainly different than yours are about your arms and I do not believe they have seen nor wanted to see their old parts since. Therefore I would believe your wanting to keep your old parts around would be no stretch of the rules, given the precedent." 

Bowline paused, wondering how to explain. Doom's question was a difficult one to answer in normal circumstances, let alone the subtle discomfort of the weight near her neck. Neither was it an easy question to know the answer to. Then again, Doom was not a sparkling, he had experienced a particularly nasty version of dawning mortality. To gloss over would be a disservice to him. She sighed and began, "It does not hurt, though I do not feel much to begin with due to nerve damage. It is, however, delicate, and too exposed to provide real protection to my processor, which is why I am wary of any contact there, not just yours. It is not armor, nor was it a choice," her helm twitched slightly in annoyance, "I was deemed an enemy to functionism and thus was sentenced to this. They took my face, my servos, my passion, and labeled me a criminal. It is called empurata if you are not familiar."

##  **Betta132** **12/13/2018**

Acus watched for a moment, winglets quivering gently in interest, and kept watching as he moved over to the closet. He knew what he was looking for and where it was, but he was definitely somewhat distracted by Burner. Mostly by  _ anticipation _ , wanting to see what was about to happen. First, though, he'd need... hm. A set of cuffs, and a few lengths of soft rope. And then, well- he had an idea or two for things that he loved the idea of, but that neither he nor Scalpel wanted to to. He'd been saving a couple of toys for if he ever got up the courage to go and find someone to play with, but he hadn't done that yet. This... this could work. Burner seemed like she would be up for a lot of things. So, grab those toys, and then... a blindfold, maybe? Definitely- definitely wrap the toys up in a clean rag, hide them a bit. He... he liked the idea of a bit of surprise.

##  **Betta132** **12/13/2018**

Scalpel groaned softly in pleasure, leaning back slightly, and half-lidded her optics to watch Burner. "Good girl," she purred, flexing her fingertips slightly against Burner's servo, armor fluffing all over her frame to invite more contact. "That's it, good  _ girl _ ..."

Acus brought his selections over, setting them on the nightstand within easy reach, and fidgeted slightly in place as he watched the two femmes. But he, oh- he wanted to do more than look, he wanted to  _ touch _ \- 

So he did. He stepped up close, knelt right next to Burner, and squirmed up close to Scalpel.  _ Very _ close, hooking the leg not braced against Burner over his shoulder, leaning in enough to nuzzle his cheek against her pelvic plating. A deep ex-vent, and he lifted both servos to settle them around the base of her thigh, fingertips dipping into her hip assembly, glancing over to Burner but looking thoroughly comfortable like this. Right up close, on his knees, practically worshipping Scalpel's frame- one of her servos on his back, stroking between his winglets, her pede tapping lightly against his back. Perfect. As he relaxed further, his winglets pricked up, fluttered, and  _ spread _ , gaps between plates widening a fraction and pulsing bright orange as the normally hidden bio-lights flooded with liquid and light. Beautifully expressive, normally hidden, but showing off now that he was so relaxed.

##  **Betta132** **12/13/2018**

.

Doom blinked a few times, brow furrowed, then deliberately moved his servo down her back again. Okay. That wasn't good. No touching there. And, pfhr. "Know what it is. Lot of Decepticons like that. Killed a lot. Have the claws, too. Helms... not good. They crunch too easily. Optics shatter. Just" a small flex of his claws "pop. Claws are better, though. Sharp. Strong. The no-fingers is bad, though. And the face thing. It's  _ bad _ ," he sighed, contemplating her helm in general for a moment, and squeezed her frame again in a firm hug. "They could probably fix that. They can fix a lot. There's still... the underneath parts are still there. They could take off the covering parts now and put face stuff on. Fix it so it can't go  _ pop _ . I don't want any of you to get crushed, especially not the bit that has all your mind in it. Or..." 

Another firm squeeze to her frame, then Doom attempted to get up, and didn't really succeed because Bowline was still in his lap. "Let's go see Crucible. He makes things. He made armor for the little skinny one, he can make you a helmet. Let's go get you a helmet," he declared, and managed to get up, albeit a bit clumsily. A moment's pause, staring at his arm, then he stepped into his room to grab his torn-off arm plating from where he'd thrown it. "And I can get him to put this back on me. He has welders."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/13/2018**

Burner's optics instinctively darted over to the movement at their periphery to see Acus bloom. It was encouraging and kind of beautiful if she was being honest with herself, which was always a good idea. She might not like mechs but seeing someone so at ease with himself brought on other, gentler feelings. They may have been mostly strangers but there's no reason why they'd have to stay that way. Burner looked back to her work, busying herself with the seams in Scalpel's fingers, paying special attention to try to figure out what got the best reaction.

"You know, I'm normally not one for mechs, but you're alright," Burner said, as casual as she could, field projecting a solid wave of  _ friendly _ over the distinct base of  _ arousal _ that was already present, "Not my taste but I'll say you're pretty cute." She thought better of her first instinct of initiating some encouraging contact. Didn't wanna ruin his good mood, what she'd seen today was enough to make her think twice about anyone advertised as wary of contact. She'd do as Scalpel had said and wait for him to initiate. Plus he was small, she'd spooked Sticks too many times by accident and still couldn't quite piece together exactly how she did it. For the moment a friendly field would have to do.

.

Bowline pushed herself up to standing just as Doom returned to the hallway. She felt lethargy once again pull at her frame but supervising Doom would be the priority. She didn't believe she would wear a helmet consistently given the already-odd shape of her helm, but it was not time to dissuade Doom at the moment. If his leading her there got him fixed in the process, it was a worthy trip. She waited for Doom to lead the way, having never been to Crucible's forge before. A few minutes in and she found herself slowing down. She reached out to put a bracing servo on Doom's shoulder, chancing that he would be okay with it, at least putting her weight on him wouldn't hurt him, "Apologies, Doom, I find myself quite tired after the events of today, I would appreciate any assistance, but if you feel uncomfortable I can brace against something else." 

Bowline turned her helm to look at Doom and rediscovered his dented chassis, "What will you do with your chassis plate. Does Crucible have the materials to right its shape or will we need to make a trip to the medbay as well?"

December 14, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/14/2018**

Another glance over his shoulder, Acus biting his lip in slight nervousness, then he shifted a bit and spread his winglets wider. His thighs, too, shifting to put his knees further apart, armor lifting up slightly. An invitation, an offering, to Burner. If she was in here, she must be trustworthy. She must be safe. He trusted Scalpel's judgement, after all. And Burner wasn't touching, that was encouraging. Which was why he was offering- maybe she could just press up a bit closer?

Scalpel's optics dimmed further in pleasure, and she crooned quietly down at the both of them, especially as Acus began to nuzzle into her pelvic plating. "Nnh, oh,  _ good _ ... that's it, that's iiit, Primus. Oh, that's so good. Such good bots,  _ good _ -"

Emboldened, Acus ex-vented softly against Scalpel's thighs, crooning hopefully, and purred a soft, delighted noise when she leaned back further and slid her valve panel open. She was jsut about on her back now, propping herself up slightly to watch them, her legs twitching occasionally as Burner found good spots. She was  _ beautiful _ , and Acus lingered for a moment or two, watching her, before nuzzling firmly into her valve. He knew what she liked in addition to servo stimulation- long, slow licks, nice and gentle, accompanying it with rubs to everything he could reach in her inner thigh. Which was a lot- his servos were nimble, and he could reach easily into the small gaps in plating to stroke underneath. Besides that, with his helm between her thighs like this, he could feel her rising charge against his audials. She wasn't the most vocal, soft groans and purrs, but he could  _ feel _ her charge building in the little twitches of powerful legs, in the way her frame tensed and relaxed in steady waves in response to touches, in the way her servo almost shook as she stroked along his winglets. He loved being able to feel everything. And he loved the  _ safety _ . Even like this, she would keep him safe.

.

##  **Betta132** **12/14/2018**

Doom didn't particularly remark upon Bowline's touch, he just glanced slightly at her, blinked, and switched to contemplating his chassis plating. "Probably fix it. Might have to take it off, though. Don't like that. Too exposed." 

Once into the forge area, he started towards Crucible, attracted to the heat and noise of the forge, but paused when something got his attention. Something that entirely didn't match the smooth, vaguely singed texture of the chairs. A bundle of angles and spines, comfortably slouched into one of the larger chairs. Was that a  _ person _ ? Doom paused, helm cocking, and approached the odd shape of person with blatant curiosity.

Crucible noticed his large company, for once, and turned to watch as- oh no, that probably- "Doom, honey, that's Soundwave, he's not the friendliest. Please,  _ please _ don't try to pick him up, he's a lot more dangerous than he looks, he will hurt you. Leave him alone-"

Soundwave lifted his helm slightly, optics narrowed behind his visor, but didn't respond as Doom crouched in front of him. Big mech. Not what he wanted to deal with right now. Especially considering he  _ knew _ that frame- a type of MTO born to die, even more than the others were. Violent, in the meantime. Responsible for far more deaths than one would expect from such small groups. Policy on them had been "shoot on sight". No chance at recruitment, they were just too violent, and they tended to spur each other on. Situational, probably, but they couldn't stand to lose soldiers trying to recruit bots who couldn't be converted. This one... this one seemed calmer. He must be older than the rest, those had stopped being made some time ago.

Did he know that him and his kind had often been made from metal taken from corpses? Autobot and Decepticon alike had been melted down to build more soldiers, once things had gotten truly desperate, and this was a type of MTO employed by the desperate.

Doom sat down on the floor in front of Soundwave's chair, curious, optics on the glowing bio-lights. "Pretty," he muttered, leaning in slightly, but didn't dare touch. He'd never seen a bot like this, which meant he had no idea what this mech could do to him. And he was bandaged up, it was best not to get too close to bots who were already bandaged.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/14/2018**

Burner smiled a bit, spotting Acus ease up even more. Well that was encouraging. She inched forward, closing a little of the distance between herself and Acus, and clamped her winglets to her back. Close quarters, didn't want to smack someone. She inched a little closer, letting her lower leg, braced on the floor, brush up against his. Maybe a little bold, she didn't know how Acus did with physical presence but with a point of contact at last, even if it was one through her  _ leg _ would give her just enough of a gauge to determine if he was tense so she could back away without having to be told. Might be a little tough on a bot so small, and sensing the minute cable tremors of tension in a leg wasn't easy to begin with but she'd do it.

Burner settled her attention again on Scalpel. By now she'd figured out what didn't work for the most part, focusing instead on what did. She drew both of her thumbs around the edges of her palm, dipping into the center occasionally, pausing to stroke her fingers through Scalpel's. She leaned in slightly, an idea, something hot she'd thought about, or maybe she'd seen it in the months before she landed on the sand planet, she couldn't quite tell anymore. She grazed one servo up the side of Scalpel's forearm until she found the femme's elbow and guided it within reach. Leaning down further, she planted a light kiss right below her elbow joint and resumed her massage. Her optics flickered to Acus every so often, timing her actions just so they would line up with his movements with a slight offset to avoid too much at once. She had so much to concentrate on, she couldn't think of things to say, perhaps nothing needed to be said. She shifted her helm and kissed Scalpel's forearm a few inches closer to her servo, and again even closer. She could feel the energy around her building. 

As Burner made her way down to the Scalpel's wrist, her kiss stayed longer. With both servos, now she began to work a little faster around the perimeter of her palm and fingers. She leaned her helm's weight into Scalpel's forearm and was unable to stop herself from smiling, at the tingling charge dancing across her lips.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/14/2018**

.

It took Bowline a bit longer to enter as Doom separated from her to go address- hold on, where was he going. Ah, excellent. She was exceedingly tired of those who clung to the Decepticon movement as if it were some untouched pillar of morality. Soundwave, being so high up, was unlikely to change his mind. She had no business with him. She was also not in the mood for traditional Decepticon posturing, but she would not let herself lose (metaphorical) face. She stood up straight, as tall as she could comfortably be, and walked in. Ignoring Soundwave in his entirety, she walked past Doom to address Crucible, "Doom has ripped his armor off once again and requires repairs. I also insist you do something about his chassis plating, as it seems unwise to leave it in its current state." It was a little more curt than she would have liked, but patience was wearing thin, "I will wait here. I want to make sure he gets fixed."

That said, Bowline scanned the room, looking for a suitable chair. The only one big enough for her was close to Soundwave's. She was not petty enough to move it, and decided instead the proximity would add some pressure onto the mech. Decepticon mind games she could play. She started towards the chair at a slow, easy pace, giving Doom a friendly squeeze on the shoulder as she passed. When she finally settled down, she felt her frame melt into the chair. The warmth of the forge brought back memories of the unforgiving desert sun, but also of the rosy mornings, the times with friends. It was probably more relaxing than it should have been, but no matter. She sank into the chair with a tired sigh and set to watching Doom.

 

Acus' little winglets fluttered encouragingly at the contact, and he hummed soft and low in approval, relaxed and happy. Burner wasn't pushing, she was just focusing on making Scalpel feel good. Acus was more than in favor of this whole thing, clearly- no need to pick up on minute details. He felt safe. Scalpel was here, and the number of unpredictable things in this situation was pleasingly low. There were still some uncertainties, but he felt fully equipped to deal with them- or, at least, that someone else in the room could deal with them. Which meant it was safe for him to focus completely on Scalpel's pleasure, to see where things went. A long, soft purr as Scalpel squeezed his audials, and his panels slid open, baring his spike housing and valve. If Burner hadn't had her servos occupied, well- he might actually be open to her touching him. She certainly seemed to be doing a good job with Scalpel's servos.

"Haah, fuck-" Scalpel hissed, thighs clamping gently around Acus' helm, back arching up off the berth as her charge built. Panting, she let go of Acus' audials in favor of digging that servo into the berth, gripping hard, bracing her back and shoulders against the berth so she could push against Acus. He was small, but even MTO-born medics were unusually strong for their size, and he could definitely take pushing back against her as she rocked into him. On his own, he wouldn't have had her in quite such a mess yet, but Burner- 

_ Fuck _ , Burner was getting good at this. Scalpel let herself squirm a bit, panting between her fangs in bliss, her unoccupied servo wrapped tightly into the blankets for support and stimulation. The pede that had been planted against Burner's thigh curled slightly, claws flexing and pricking into paint, and her other set of claws kicked lightly against Acus' back. Her field was practically singing,  _ pleasure/praise/bliss/comfort/pleasure _ , and she trilled beautifully as her charge finally crested and she overloaded. Which meant Acus got a faceful of lubricant, but clearly he didn't mind, as the tender sucking at her node turned into eager lapping before her overload had quite ebbed.

Lifting his helm slightly, Acus offered Scalpel a soft, beaming smile, then glanced over to Burner. "You... you figured out what to do with her servos, I see. Back- back off now, everyone gets sensitive." 

There was the tiniest shake to his voice, but it was starting to be more akin to arousal, definitely nowhere near his usual level of nervousness. Part of it was because his voice tended to shake now, regardless of the situation.

.(edited)

Doom contemplated Soundwave for a moment, largely ignoring it as Crucible came over with a welder, recognition dawning in his optics. "Oh. Right- I know who you are. D'you know there's porn with people pretending to be you?" he asked, as if it was nothing strange, then glanced over at where Crucible was welding his plating back on with quick dabs of the welder. Didn't hurt enough to care about. The only thing he minded was when Crucible pushed his face away from the bright lights, and he grumbled unhappily, nipping (gently) at blunt fingers in retaliation. "Why's he on here? You're not Decepticons. Mostly."

"Doom doesn't have many pain sensors here, and his pain tolerance is high. This is easier than messing with sedatives," Crucible explained in Burner and Soundwave's direction, and gave a slightly muffled snickering noise at Doom's remark. "Oh- goodness. I suppose I'm not surprised, you're attractive and famous.  _ Did _ you know?" he asked, glancing slightly over to Soundwave, but had to keep his optics on what he was doing. Welding parts onto a living being was no place to slip up.

Soundwave knew, thank you, and he nodded very slightly. Most to oblige the MTO. Doom was, well- his mannerisms very strongly suggested that no one had given him much social coding. Some sort of allowance was needed for that, and Soundwave could relax his usual appearance to allow for that. Now... the other one. Burner. He'd found her in Crucible's "introduction" files, and had lingered. A slight hint of what could have been, after all, if he hadn't been quite careful enough to avoid being mutilated. Hm- definitely tired at the moment. But he couldn't tell much, past that. Interesting. He did have to keep an optic on Doom, though- mech looked as though he was contemplating trying to pick Soundwave up. Soundwave would not appreciate that. Nor did he plan to let this mech anywhere near him until he knew how delicate Doom could be with those claws.

"Anyway- do you remember what I told you about history? The original goals of the factions? You- you don't need to tell me right now, thank you, I'm confident you remembered. I'm just asking so you'll recall it right now," Crucible explained softly, gently cutting off Doom's attempt at listing it all off. A slight nod from Doom, and Crucible continued, voice soft and casual. "Well... things have rather broken up. There's some extremists on each side, who are only interested in killing off all the others. There are Autobots, still, who are horrifyingly Functionalist and would have you bound up, imprisoned, or killed for being a war-frame MTO. Then we have Decepticons who are loyal to what the cause  _ became _ , to the violent conquests. But there are a lot of people, and you'll find mostly them on the ship, who are... possibly not Decepticon in name, for a variety of reasons, but roughly akin to the original Decepticon viewpoints. Equality and a lack of frametype discrimination, all those nice things. That's mostly where you get these people who are too tired to fight any more. Soundwave isn't living with us, he's off on his own somewhere, but he needed a medic like we have. And he likes us! He's still a Decepticon, but he's kind of denounced the... unreasonably violent ones. Soundwave, this is Doom. You've probably figured him out by now."


	14. Chapter 14

##  **Malusdraco** **12/14/2018**

Burner gave Scalpel's wrist one last kiss and set it gently back down on her knee. Her optics shone bright as her fans clicked up a few notches, drinking in the charge that seemed to dissipate into the air. She sat back on her pedes with a wide, self-satisfied smile and stayed silent for a bit, looking up at Scalpel's post-overload face, it was one of the many things about Scalpel she loved, relaxed, blissed-out, nice. When she finally spoke, her voice came out a low purr, "Told ya I'd be good at it." She set to gently stroking Scalpel's lower leg, almost automatically, at a loss for what to do with the echoes of servo stimulation. 

At last Burner looked to Acus, optics half-lidded and burning, as they do, and laughed warm, not sharp, "Never stood a chance with both of us. We make a good team." She laughed again and curled her arm around Scalpel's leg, resting her helm against the femme's knee. She raised her servo, low enough to be within easy reach and paused, an offer, but-right, delicate medic servos. Slowly she brought it down a bit lower and curled her fingers into a fist, another offer, a different one, required less contact. Aroused platonic fist-bumps? Not something she'd thought she'd ever do, but it would serve fine, it felt right, "I understand you two have some plans...?"

.

Bowline sighed from her chair... politics. What would a discussion of politics add to the scenario? Doom would be mostly out of the loop, she wondered just how much he knew about the factions anyway. Crucible seemed to have the right idea, no mark in sight except for, what  _ was _ that. She hadn't noticed it before. Soundwave, she could test what his thoughts were. Perhaps the idea did have merit. She sat up slightly, and lowered her voice, posturing, "This universe has seen enough of the factions. Anyone who still sticks to either side is either readying for another all-out war or delusional that their way of life will bring about peace or whatever other agenda they push," inflammatory enough to provoke a response? Possibly, "I do not see the point in attempting to reclaim old labels instead of building something new. Autobots and Decepticons both are beyond absolution."

It wasn't like her to meet someone relatively new with such a harsh attitude, usually it took an admission of guilt or other, more direct baggage before the vitriol came out. Soundwave was an exception, as was any and every politician who stood in the way of her movement. She had many words for the higher-ups of both movements and a great deal of time to think about just what they would be.

##  **Betta132** **12/14/2018**

Acus looked happy, but vaguely uncomprehending for a moment, not recognizing the gesture. It clicked after an instant, though, and he returned it, then shifted off his knees to sit- and immediately switched back to his knees with a slight squeak as his valve met the cold floor. Yikes! Not the best surprise. This whole situation was good, though, and he was offering Burner a slightly timid, hopeful smile as he leaned against Scalpel's leg. "I-I do. It's... nothing  _ too _ strange, but I'd... I-I'd rather like to surprise you, if that's all right," he explained, tapping his fingertips lightly together, looking mildly shy but still relatively comfortable. "None of it will hurt, and- and nothing extreme. But I'd... like to restrain you, if I could? I've never... never really had the chance to play with someone who's restrained. Scalpel, um- not her taste. I'm- I'm picturing, ah... your wrists cuffed and held over your helm, your legs tied apart, and- and maybe a blindfold? And- and then I can, uh" 

A pause, licking his lips and glancing away with a slightly stronger blush, then he pulled himself up to sit on the berth. "-I-I can try a couple of toys on you. You're free to change your mind at-at any point, of course! But you seem"  _ up for most things _ "fairly confident, so... would a surprise or two be all right?"

"Nngh, y' distractin' me," Scalpel muttered from flat on her back, squirming up so that she's at least all the way on the berth, and hooks a leg over Acus' lap. "He's got ideas. I got rope an' a good voice. An' we're both  _ medics _ . You wan' a real creative frag? I know what 'e's got. Yer gonna like it. C'mon now- get up here, show 'im what 'e's workin' with. Spread them pretty thighs. On y' back, tha's a good girl," she groaned, hauling herself more or less upright, and leaned gently on Acus to give Burner enough room to get comfortable. "C'mon now. Be good an' I'll give that spike some attention." 

Did she need to mention-? 

Hm, no. Acus seemed comfortable enough to be all right with suggestions that would normally upset him. Best not to spoil the mood for anyone by putting their minds to somewhere unpleasant if there was no need. 

.

Hm. Fine. If they were going to do this...

Soundwave pushed himself up slightly, enough to look slightly less melted, and turned his helm so Bowline could see his words properly. And, just in case she wasn't good with fine details, he made sure to print the type larger.  _ "I am loyal to myself, to the innocents of Cybertron, and to what the cause -MY cause- should have been. I do not pretend to abandon my responsibility for the way the war twisted itself, but I will not abandon my cause because of what desperation and the acts of others turned it into. I am loyal to the true Decepticon cause, not what others mean it to be. Their misinterpretation does not affect my truth, and my truth is this; any society built on discrimination by frametype is doomed to fail. Injustice breeds resentment and violence. I am not loyal to conquest, I am not loyal to destruction, I am not loyal to any power or search for power that exists. I am loyal to hope. And regardless of what you think, this _ " a tap to one of his insignias  _ "was once a symbol of hope. I will not abandon it now. But... I will welcome anyone, regardless of their claimed faction, who shares my hope. I do not wear these as a symbol of a faction. I wear them as a symbol of a purpose. _ " 

...he might have been having this argument, or one similar to it, in his helm for the past few months until he came up with a perfect counter. Or, at least, as close to perfect as he could think of.

"Some people are reluctant to put away something they've worked their entire life for. Now" a pause, Crucible readjusting the shape of a piece of arm plating by bending it over his knee, "I certainly won't object to discussion! But, so long as they're at least  _ close _ to my general views, everyone is welcome here. People have their own reasons for wearing whatever badges they wear. You'll see a few non-traditional ones here. Mine is one I've come up with for myself, and for my students- and it's actually a little like what his used to mean! But with less promise of violent revolution. More of a constructive, 'build the world you want to live in' sort of thing. Though I can't say I'm opposed to the use of hammers to remove people who would oppress you," he commented, standing on tip-pede to reach Doom's upper arm. "And I'm not inclined to hold someone's war-time desperations against them. I object to malice, but Primus knows I'm no stranger to desperation myself," with a small shudder. He was a high-energy alt, after all. He'd nearly starved quite a few times, and had resorted to a number of... less than savory fuel sources, including straight-up cannibalism. He still had some of the food issues! It had taken him a week to stop chugging as much energon as would physically fit into his tank every time he got the chance.

December 15, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/15/2018**

Burner, delighted at Acus's reciprocation, collected herself and stood up and stretched her arms above her head, letting her winglets pop up again. Better get a good stretch before being tied up. She stretched her legs, too, standing on the tips of her pedes. She shifted her stance a bit as she let herself down again, the tip of one pede just touching the heel of her other, another one of her good poses. She let her arms down slowly, theatrically, after all two was basically an audience now, "I'm game," she purred, letting her panel snap open as her servos reached past her hips. Her spike flopped out, already semi-hard. She wasn't lying about being horny. She made a show of climbing into the berth. Slow, practiced steps,  one pede on the berth as she stretched out her other leg, winglets angling upwards and outwards, almost framing her helm, almost. Her optics flicked momentarily to what she was doing, this was just off the cuff, (hmm, a new pose to check with the mirror? there could be something there with the angle of her- wait she was doing something). With a quick kick from her pede on the ground, she twisted around and landed gracefully on her back in the berth, pulling one leg in by the knee. Face firmly in bedroom-mode, engines beginning to purr, yes, perfect.

"I'll be good, Scalpel, scout's honor," Burner said, letting her pede tap gently against the wall near where the femme sat. It was the truth, she wasn't about to misbehave in front of Acus, though there was no reason not to banter, "it's the duty of the guest to be polite."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/15/2018**

.

Bowline sat forward a bit, leaning on one elbow, a servo gently resting on one chair arm, the other curled into a loose fist, utterly relaxed, a casual, practiced pose. She knew the rules of intimidation and spent enough time arguing for her rights to craft her body-language to an art. Her single optic looked down at Soundwave, hot as a distant star. She did not take long to reply, "Sunk-cost fallacy is not enough to justify allying yourself to a defunct movement- a movement which, I might add, was not yours to begin with. Regardless of what the Decepticon cause means to you, Soundwave, the number of people who share your hope in that badge is ever-dwindling and pales in comparison to the masses of those brutalized at the behest of what became of the Decepticon movement. To so many, that badge does not mean hope, it means fear, it means danger, it means death. You cannot go on and simply ignore that." She paused, letting her words sink in, "I was once a Decepticon, Soundwave. I know what the symbol meant, I believed in it too. But the bright future the Decepticons promised became tainted with pre-emptive genocide and coercive fear, choices that the movement's spearhead authorized."

Bowline took another pause, then continued, "Regardless of what the symbol used to mean, it cannot be separated now from what it has inspired. I reiterate, it is far beyond redemption. The war is over. Evil Decepticons and those with the propensity for evil still live. If they see the resurgence of the movement, they will take it as their opportunity to return to their ways of destruction. The residual Autobots will react in kind and war will begin anew." Bowline leaned forward and laced her two servos together, optic unyielding, "Now I ask you, Soundwave, how can you justify wearing a widely-regarded symbol of terror?"

##  **Betta132** **12/15/2018**

"Good girl," Scalpel purred, and wrapped a servo gently around Burner's spike, thumb stroking over the tip as she stroked lightly. Not too much stimulation yet, just the beginning of sensation, priming Burner's frame for Acus. A quick, encouraging glance towards him, and a slight nod of approval, purring gently as he moved.

Acus had never actually done this before, but he knew how to tie knots. A pause to admire Burner, then he crept up next to her and captured her servos, binding her wrists together with a length of soft rope. It had a bit of stretch to it, and it was lightly squishy- strong enough to hold her, but something she could comfortably tug against. Once her wrists were bound together, he brought them up over her helm, tugged a recessed hook out of the wall, and hooked the rope over it, keeping her arms trapped there. Next, a few long strokes down her frame, lingering against her belly near sensitive plating, before he slid down to push her legs apart. This was... definitely new, and he hesitated again, fingertips tapping nervously against each other, but this was... safe. It was all right. He was fine. A deep in-vent, and he returned to his work, tying a rope around each ankle. From there, he brought the rope down to the frame of the berth and looped it into the hooks tucked up underneath, pulling Burner's legs apart. That left her able to squirm some, but unable to close her legs any or hide herself. The final touch, a soft cloth tied around her helm as a blindfold, and he reached up to stroke one forearm right below the rope. "If- if you're especially good, I'll let your servos free," he whispered, and glanced to Scalpel, looking for approval.

He got it. Scalpel purred deeply and offered him a bright, hungry grin, then stroked her fingertips up Burner's inner thigh until she could rub around those pretty valve lips. "Hm. There we go... you do look so tempting like this. What do you think, hm? Do you like this? Bound up so you can't hide from us or feel what we're going to do, blindfolded so everything is a surprise, waiting for us to do... something to your pretty frame." 

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/15/2018**

She wasn't quite wrong, but hadn't considered something. Not too surprising. Well- several things, and some she didn't have the data for. 

_ "Symbols change in meaning. To some, this still means hope. To others... it is the lure of power they once had, and could have again. To the former, I am a potential leader. It enables me to locate and gather the reasonable remnants of the Decepticon cause. Were I to shed these, they would see me as a traitor, and no one currently wearing the badges would trust any offer of hope I could give them. There are still lost souls wearing badges like these, and I see no reason to leave them to die alone. To the ones who seek power... this is the best form of bait. It allows me to bring them in where I can reach, and ensure they will not turn their viciousness on anyone else. Besides that..." _

Sitting up a bit further to meet the slight challenge, he brought up a new set of images on his visor, a set of statistics. Brought up in the form of dots of varying sizes, spaced out evenly, showing comparative population sizes.  _ "You fear a resurgence. You should know that this ship, and its port city on Cybertron, represent the largest population of Cybertronians still alive. By far. Mixed faction, cooperating well enough to be largely considered neutral. Every other group in existence is much smaller. The extremists are in highly limited populations, totalling only hundreds. There are no populations large enough for the war to resume- only individual skirmishes. In short, I will not abandon the remaining true loyalists, I will not abandon those who still wear the badges only in hopes of safety, and I will not set aside my chance to locate and dispose of the truly dangerous who think my cause an excuse for violence. The war is over, Bowline. It will not resume. There are not enough left with the will to continue fighting. Our species is tired, nearly extinct, and desperate for safety. To half of those still left wandering, this _ " another small tap to a badge " _ means safety. Ironic as it is, given my former and current role, I find myself as something of a lighthouse. _ "

##  **Malusdraco** **12/15/2018**

Burner shivered, pulling slightly against the restraints to test their give. She hummed, "didn't know meek and tiny had it in him," turning to where she thought Acus might be, "Speakin the right words, mech." Her winglets clacked against her back. Her thigh and hip plating flared a bit as she squirmed in anticipation, "Ooohoho,  _ two _ doms. Big dom, little dom and then there's me, all tied up and blindfolded, feelin like I'm gonna be eaten alive," her engine revved as she laughed again, "never been so ready in my entire life to become a snack." 

She couldn't really contain her excitement. Of course Scalpel could pull something nasty like a bug or something and try to stick it in her valve, but regardless her hype was working. And Acus... the unknown factor, she wondered what he was going to do. Seemed that medics were a rather kinky bunch to begin with, small bots were always surprising, and the quiet ones usually liked things completely unexpected. Acus was all of these and she could not imagine what he could possibly have in mind. She shifted a bit, flashing her dentae, "I'll warn you, though, any mouth surprises and I'll bite. Slap me with it a bit first, let me know what's going on and I'll spare you."

.

"And what is to stop them from allying behind another Decepticon general?" Bowline said, "The Decepticon movement branded itself, kept itself in line through fear -fear of retribution, fear of death at the servos of their superiors, a fear that you cultivated in yourself as well. An ex pit fighter who deliberately markets himself as dangerous, as a challenge and a threat, and pulls the strings from the shadows is not the one whom many would trust, regardless of faction. The Decepticons I knew trusted nobody but their peers, what is to make them follow you instead?" Bowline sighed, leaning onto one arm again. What had happened to the movement had hurt, but by the time she realized where it was going, it was too late to leave without serious risk, "The Decepticon movement was nothing but scattered, disenchanted rebels before Megatron. It was his raw charisma alone that brought the issues to the forefront and rallied everyone together. How can you expect people to join you, Soundwave, when your respect is commanded through might, through fear? You cannot lead without a face. You cannot rally without a voice. I know this better than anyone."

Another pause, perhaps more personal an appeal than was necessary, but what did Soundwave know about leading? The mech knew lies, espionage, information, not the gentle appeal to pathos it would take to save the scared and lost Decepticon loyalists in order to make them play nice. She leaned back in the chair, his intentions were good at least, she would concede that, "I want to believe you are right, that the war is well and truly over. I wish you the best of luck on your mission but sincerely believe it is a lost cause."

##  **Betta132** **12/15/2018**

"...noted," Acus muttered, and picked the toys up off the nightstand with a slight clinking noise, moving up to sit right between Burner's thighs. Whispering "pretty", he stroked lightly over her valve lips a couple of times, gathering lubricant on his fingertips, and withdrew to slick up the toy. This was, well. A rather heavily modified piece of medical equipment. It had formerly been a speculum, but most of the length was gone, leaving only the portion that spread the valve rim. In addition, he'd cushioned it with a soft, stretchy silicone, widened the exterior portion, and left a space clear around where the node would end up. Compressing it down to its smallest size, he pressed two fingertips gently past Burner's valve rim and spread gently, then pushed the toy into place. He'd tried this on itself, and it didn't feel like much at that point- just a steady pressure against the area around the valve, and a slight, soft penetration. Confusing, probably, in its unremarkable nature.

##  **Betta132** **12/15/2018**

Until he squeezed part of the exterior portion and it spread, its structure shifting over itself and spreading her valve rim open wide.  _ That _ got interesting, the stretch to the rim without stimulation anywhere else, and it also let him see  _ everything _ . Vents hitching softly, he hiked Burner's hips up and positioned a pillow under her aft to keep her hips propped up, improving his view and making the angle slightly better for- well. His next toy. One he  _ hadn't _ tried on himself, not really, but something he'd been wanting to try on someone else. A long, thin wand, not even a finger's width for most of its length, tipped with a tiny vibe wrapped in soft, nubbed silicone. "Let me know what you think of this," he whispered, and slipped the toy into Burner's valve, activating the vibe and carefully watching her responses as he shifted it. With this, he could target and stimulate individual node clusters, without stimulating anywhere else. Again, strange, and somewhat confusing to one's systems, but hopefully very good. And not his only idea with this toy.

.

A lost cause, was it? Soundwave cocked his helm slightly, and pulled up two lists, right next to each other. One, a list of names, accompanied by deeds- horrifying things, rape and torture and mass slaughter of innocents. Every name on the list had an image next to it, a face, and every image had [CONFIRMED DECEASED] stamped over it. The other, a list of names and faces again, but with locations instead of deeds, each stamped with either [RECRUITED], [RECRUITED- IN CITY], or [RECRUITED- IN SITU]. Shooing the lists away, he displayed tallies instead.  _ [hazards removed - 30] _ and  _ [recruited - 73] _ . 

_ "It worked for them. Some of those who join, with prompting, can be coaxed to reassure others. I cannot offer a face, or any degree of charisma, but I can offer fuel, shelter, stability, and protection. I have had very few refusals. Those who do refuse, I leave supplies and contact data. Some come around. I do not need them to like me, only to see that I have more to offer them than anyone else. And I do not reveal to those I call that I am using myself as bait." _

Spies knew what people liked, and some likes were universal. He offered them safety, a degree of comfort, the possibility of successfully returning to Cybertron if they felt cooperative enough to not punch anyone for differing views. He'd saved more than a few of their lives himself, and that certainly made for some additional loyalty. People were desperate for somewhere to belong, and he could give them that. Besides, he'd been practicing his people skills, and there were a decent few in his little group who were starting to see him as... he'd heard one call him 'eccentric'. That worked. He was aiming for "dangerous, worthy of your respect, but not overly violent", and it... seemed to be working?

 

Burner hummed a bit at the feeling of  _ someone _ playing with her valve lips (hmm fingers that small? probably Acus) and then- oho what's this? Preparation for something big? No that was- She startled a little bit at the vibe, arching her back instinctively with a sharp in-vent. The ropes began to creak as she slowly pulled against them. She hummed low in her throat, almost a growl except it lasted too long to be at all aggressive, "Mmm that's good." She tensed again as Acus got another sensor, thighs attempting to close around him but blocked by the restraints. Another shudder and her valve began to ooze, fans kicking up higher, "Ah-ha, veeeeery good."

What struck Burner was just how  _ quiet _ he was, whispering all the time. Gentle, too. Nothing like most of the mechs she'd been around. Her hopes soared ever higher, either he was gearing up for something  _ real _ freaky she'd get to try, or he'd be this nice the entire time, which... wasn't going to help her charge but she would appreciate all the same. She was a simple femme, she liked it when people were nice to her, if she could cum on top of that, it was a bonus.

.

Bowline leaned forward at the list of faces, attempting to see who they were, the distance and her suboptimal sight were working against her, "May I congratulate you on your apparent success, then, though I wonder where your supplies are coming from if not from the Decepticon stocks. Supplies which I was under the impression were dwindling, close to gone, enough to justify leaving those in my campaign behind. Regardless, if I am to take what you have shown me at face value, it seems you are taking responsibility for your own. You are attempting to repair what the movement broke within itself and not its reputation. By that logic you should not be loyal to the cause, which, I reiterate, is beyond redemption regardless of what it once dreamt it could be, but rather to the people still under the Decepticon banner. Ideals mean nothing to starving people, but I have no doubt you know this already." 

Bowline shifted back in her seat, the heat appealing to her tired circuits, "Decepticons, Autobots, both still fantasizing in the moral plane have no use in times like these without action. The dialectic needs to be rephrased to deal with the present and the real. The moral high ground was shot dead thousands of years ago and what remains are the disenfranchised, deluded, and suffering masses left behind in its wake. Now I ask you again, Soundwave," she paused to lace her fingers together once again, though looking significantly more comfortable, having given up posturing for now, "why do you wear the badge?"

##  **Betta132** **12/16/2018**

Acus' engines revved softly, and he purred a bit louder, encouraged. A quick glance to Scalpel, then he crouched and nuzzled at Burner's inner thigh, slowly making his way up to the base of her spike. A moment of hesitation, then he licked up the shaft of her spike, a bit tentative but wanting to add stimulation. At the same time, he spiraled the little wand and slid it in deep, deeper, until it was pressed up against the sensitive entrance to her overflow tank. Normally that only opened for fluid pressure, but a firm, teasing pressure from a soft-tipped toy could trip it as well. 

"Try not to thrust- be gentle," Scalpel muttered to Burner, stroking her audials, watching Acus intently with flickering  _ arousal/pleasure _ in her field. "Mm. Told you he has good servos. Such a sweet thing- it's almost a shame you can't see him right now. He looks so  _ focused _ , and those pretty winglets are quivering. I think he likes how you taste. What do you think, Acus, treasure? Good?" 

Acus purred loudly around Burner's spike, suckling gently on the tip, and spun the toy in a firm, more demanding motion. He wasn't inclined to take much more of her spike into his mouth, but he was making full use of his glossa against the tip, teasing underneath the head in time with the motions of the toy. Yes. Good. He  _ liked _ having a partner to tie up and play with. 

.

Had he not established this already?  _ "A symbol of hope, at least for some, and a measure of allyship. Most do not trust me in the slightest. They would be even less likely to allow me near them if I lost what they see as a connection. Whatever you think of me, and of this, some still believe. I will not set aside something that is effective," _ he declared, and sat up enough to stretch, bio-lights brightening and dimming in a wave from helm to pede. " _ For many, their connection to a faction is the only thing they have left. The only city alive on Cybertron is a mix of badges, and it is peaceful enough. This ship is a mix of badges, and it is stable. Promoting allyship between the factions currently seems to be more effective than encouraging any faction to dissolve. _ " 

A pause, glancing away to check on the source of some rather loud noises -Crucible straightening Doom's chassis plating as much as possible while it was still on the mech- and Soundwave watched for a moment before turning back to Burner.  _ "Your conclusions are logical. I will remember them for if what I am doing now begins to fail. However, current methods are effective. First goal: gather as many Decepticons as possible. Second goal: gradually integrate into existing, larger groups. Methods: based on observations, data." _

<We have a LOT more information than you,> Laserbeak contributed from Soundwave's chassis, detaching one wingtip from his frame and waving it as if to establish that, hello, she was also here.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/16/2018**

Burner tensed all over once again, a high-pitched moan escaping from her vocalizer this time. Her spike pressurized easily under Acus's glossa. Between the subtle buzz she could feel from the vibe and the new stimulation from Acus, that would about do it. The cables in her belly trembled as she did everything in her power to keep mostly still with only mild success. Her hips instinctively bucked a bit at the contact. Charge ignited in her frame as lubricant gushed from her valve and her fans kicked into high gear. Her face flushed rather aggressively, "You're not- you're not wrong, Scalpel, he's pretty- pretty good."

Burner grinned, feeling the ropes skitter-vibrate around her ankles as she leaned back a bit, "Never thought I'd much care for gentle stuff but -ah-" Acus had hit a good spot and she tensed again, breath shaky but not fled quite yet, "I think I have a new appreciation."

.

Bowline looked downward at Laserbeak and paused, she used to be much better at binary, after years conversing rather heavily with members beastformer rights movements but she didn't see why she couldn't try as a measure of goodwill, <Greetings, Laserbeak> "Truly it is not difficult to have more information than I do. I have been rather out of the loop in terms of news and am attempting to catch up. My observations are from what I have read in the past few months as well as what I have noticed. I would not scoff at your collective information-gathering skills, either." She turned her helm to Soundwave again, "I doubt the efficacy of keeping parties, as it rather inspires some alienation tactics and very quick judgements. To see there is an other that is opposite you does not do much to aid collaboration. Right now the two sides have more in common than they realize, and so we find factionalism utterly pointless at best and detrimental at worst. Nevertheless you seem to have a good enough reason to keep your badge. Factionalism is securely not your job to fix, however, I suppose it could be mine."

Bowline stayed in tacit thought for a few moments before angling her helm to watch Doom, "Would it not be easier to take off the plate?"

##  **Betta132** **12/16/2018**

"Mm, and he likes to watch, too," Scalpel crooned, leaning down to nip at Burner's audials, lightly scraping the sensitive metal with her fangs. "Shoulda seen him when I showed him that video of you. A bit rough for him to want any sort of personal involvement, but, mm, the  _ watching _ ... he nearly came without me even touching him. Just had him in my lap, straddling my thigh, rubbing against me... so pretty. He was so focused on  _ you _ ." 

Acus trilled around Burner's spike, and took a bit more of its length into his mouth, encouraging her to move some if she wanted. He could take her squirming! He just didn't want her  _ thrusting _ much. A long, loud purr, and he bobbed his helm lightly as he pressed and thrust with the toy, teasing at the back of her valve until- ah! He felt the give as the little entrance opened up, and pushed the toy carefully just a bit further, pressing it into the rim of her overflow tank itself. Further than this felt  _ strange _ , some didn't like it at all, but just inside the rim tended to be a good spot. Pulling up off her spike, he rubbed at her node lightly with his thumb, his voice a bit husky but steadier as he spoke. "What do you think? That's your overflow tank opening, which means... oh, so many things I could do now. T-tell me, pretty- have you ever had someone fill that little tank?" 

.

<You know, however many points you're right about... this works a lot better than the alternative. 'Hi, remember me? I'm creepy, but I have fuel, and I'm probably on your side, wanna come?' works pretty well. If it was 'hi, remember me? I'm dangerous and have nothing to indicate that I'm on your side, wanna come talk to a bunch of Autobots?' it wouldn't work so well. First we gotta get them to figure out he's not about to murder them or anything, and  _ then _ we can introduce them to other people. It's not like there are many Autobots or Neutrals who'd like him, badge or not. That's a job for other people. Who are less creepy and better at social interactions. Maybe someone cuter.>

Soundwave, in gentle retaliation for Laserbeak mocking him in public, peeled her off his chassis and tossed her away like a throwing disc. Not that she minded- she straightened out easily and buzzed back over to perch on the back of his chair. Ah well- he had nothing else to add.

"Hm, well, yes, but it doesn't un-latch! His armor is good quality, but his frame isn't so great. It's just welded on. I can't cut it off because of the angle it's at, I'd have to cut through the armor itself rather than the welds, and it's" a pause, Crucible leaning on Doom's chassis "rather too well anchored to tear it off without fairly significant pain and damage. His frame isn't what we call well-made!" he complained, then looked up at Doom to check for any indicators of pain. None. Just utter  _ fascination _ , staring over in Soundwave's direction. "What's up?" 

"Some of his armor is  _ alive _ ," Doom explained quietly, staring intently at Laserbeak, armor fluffed slightly in fascination, completely ignoring the roughness happening around his chassis.

##  **Betta132** **12/16/2018**

Crucible glanced over at Laserbeak, then up at Doom again, smiling slightly. "Well- technically, yes! That's Laserbeak. She's a symbiote- a small, sapient being, a-a person, who's bonded to Soundwave and who fastens to him for energy. You also see symbiotes who fold into a compartment in the carrier's chassis or stomach- they were a bit more common, I think, you might be more familiar with them. Oh, ah- Vanguard! Have- have you met- hm, you might not have. About your size, white armor, compartment in his chassis for- no? Okay. Anyway- lean back for me? Dear Primus-" he scoffed, shifting his weight back against part of the plating to shift it outward slightly, then slammed his weight against Doom as hard as he could. "-oof. Okay. Let's just get this more or less aligned, hm? Primus, I-I suppose it's  _ logical _ , isn't it, not putting- putting latches on someone you intend to die within the next few days, won't need to repair someone who's  _ dead _ , ugh- Bowline, do you want to try to help me some with this? His  _ armor's _ good, at least- nice dense metal."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/16/2018**

Burner stretched her neck out, leaning into Scalpel's bites, a wide smile on her face. The feeling dulled from her frame a bit as she processed what the femme said. Focused on her? Suddenly all the feeling came back as Acus put that strange toy somewhere  _ interesting _ and her frame tensed once again but this time with a new feeling, deep in her chassis something was soaring. She took a sharp in-vent and let it out as a moan that turned into breathy laughter. Nearly came just from  _ her? _ She'd never expected anyone to say that about her. All those years of posing in the nearest reflection, of grasping at any chance at a modification to make her look less like a generic MTO, of carefully practicing pickup lines, she was  _ pretty _ now. 

Burner blushed ever further and hummed, continuous sound broken up by scattered laughs, "C-can't say I have." She tried her sexy voice but it came out, happy? It was tempered through her growing smile. And what was...? Something on her blindfold was wet, was it...? Was she crying?

.

Bowline pushed herself up from her chair and stood for a klik, letting her frame get used to being upright again before ambling over to where Doom and Crucible were, "I will rephrase, in general I believe it would be better to appeal to and encourage one's love for one's fellow bot as opposed to appealing to factional lines, however in your situation because of your image, you are required to appeal to those in your own faction as you are. I simply hope you take that in mind when being a Decepticon has lost its usefulness as a vector for saving lives. That is all."

She knelt down next to Doom, and looked to Crucible "I am here for assistance. I do not know what I may do as I find my strength lacking for my size and waning for today but perhaps two frames are better than one. I also wonder what the process is for installing latches. Is it not something one can just do? It would make taking the plating off easier, but it would also facilitate putting it back on, though I suppose it is ultimately up to Doom," here she turned to the mech, "Doom, how are you doing? Are you in any pain?"

December 17, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/17/2018**

(ah, heck, guess that reponse didn't get through after all. In progress again!)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/17/2018**

(oh noooo :'0 i was wondering if everything was okay)

##  **Betta132** **12/17/2018**

(my Internet was really iffy, and I guess that post I submitted didn't go through before I went to bed. Working on a new one now.)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/17/2018**

(ahh  _ nodding sagely _ )

##  **Betta132** **12/17/2018**

Acus hesitated, not certain if that was a bad sign, and glanced up to Scalpel for input. He had... basically no experience with domming. Crying was normally bad, but Burner felt  _ happy _ , from what he could tell. This didn't  _ seem _ like a bad situation, but it was... confusing. 

Scalpel paused as well, then shifted to stroke Burner's audials long and slow with both servos, purring steadily down at her. "Ah, shush. We're doin' smut now, Burner, we're not doin' all them gooshy emotions. We can do that later. You got a sweet li'l bot right up between yer thighs, bein' clever. What're ya doin' with those feelings, huh?" she teased, soft and gentle, playing with the tips of Burner's audials. 

That was a... fairly definitive cue that things were okay. Acus relaxed, pulling the toy out and flicking it across her node, then pressed his thumbtip gently to her node and moved it in tiny circles so as not to remove stimulation entirely as he spoke. "Oh, goodness. Burner, are- do you want me to keep going? We- we can do something else if you'd like, or stop, but... I-I think you might want me to keep going. Am I right? Either- either thing is okay." 

.

Soundwave nodded once, acknowledging her valid point, and settled comfortably back into his chair to watch them manhandle Doom. Who was growling rather irritably, a rising-and-falling sound as Crucible shoved on his plating, but was making no effort to get away. 

Doom growled a bit louder as Crucible pushed harder, then huffed and glanced back at Bowline, scoffing lightly. "Pfh. No pain. Just don't  _ like _ it- loud. Annoying. Fah," he complained, and pushed at Crucible's frame- but very lightly. Token resistance, that was all. He could have made Crucible stop if he'd wanted to, could have picked him up and thrown him, but he didn't. 

"-do you want me to stop, or- no? Okay. Well, we could add latches, but it would be a fairly long procedure. Have to figure out how to get the armor off with minimal damage, clean away all the old weld marks, figure out where to attach latches... a lot of detail work. And he doesn't want to be without his armor for that long- understandable!" Crucible hummed, looking up at Bowline with a vaguely worried look. "If you're not feeling well, it's all right, go back and rest, but- if you could, just brace against him? At least it- oof. I know it looks bad, but it doesn't seem to be bothering Doom much. He lets people know what he doesn't like, believe me! This- mfh" a pause as Doom batted a servo gently over his helm "-isn't serious. He's strong enough to throw me. Aren't you?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/17/2018**

Burner took a deep in-vent and laughed, "not supposed to have feelings and equipment out at the same time. It's a ah-" quickly she regained her focus on her own charge, letting out a hot breath, "a Burner rule. Not number one but hhh-" her engines revved a bit, she  _ was _ pretty and it felt  _ good, _ "-high up there. Why spend time crying when you can spend time fraggin-right?" It wasn't exactly an old rule, but she could say it if she just thought of it, right? It'd never been a problem before but now- yes, it was, she needed a rule. Silly emotions, "I'm fine, hope I didn't just kill the mood. Please keep going." She paused and added, with an encouraging smile, "You're-  _ hah _ doing good Acus." 

Scalpel's attention to her audials felt good. Burner leaned her helm back on the pillow and turned into her servos, "If you really wanna know, I'll tell ya later. Just remember to ask cause I'm hoping to be fragged so good I won't remember."

.

"A brace I can be." Bowline said as she sat down on Doom's other side and took hold of his shoulders, "I suppose that is a valid reason, however, Doom I would encourage you to bear with it for as long as it would take. It would make this process a great deal easier. If you feel like you would need a bodyguard to sit through the procedure I would willingly offer myself." She cocked her helm a bit, attempting to lighten the mood, "I do not know if the feeling of ripping off latched armor would be the same, however, I will offer this: armor that comes off as latched pieces may be thrown to greater distance. You will not get nearly as much warping as you would taking them off when they are welded on." She shrugged, an exaggerated gesture, more for Doom than anyone else, "A straight shot would certainly fly farther than anything that wastes momentum on drag. There are advantages and disadvantages to think about."

##  **Betta132** **12/17/2018**

"Ha, noted," Scalpel muttered, and grinned, lowering one servo to rub at Burner's scruff as she looked over to Acus. "Go on, treasure. You're doing such a good job. Let me see you- show me that pretty spike?" she crooned, and purred when Acus obliged. 

The concern had put a dent in his arousal, but Acus obliged the request nonetheless, pushing himself up slightly to show off his equipment. His spike wasn't fully pressurized yet, it was always slow to do so, but the orange-red biolights were already starting to flicker and pulse enticingly. A moment's pause, and he in-vented deeply, shifting to press his spike to Burner's valve. He wasn't sure if it would be entirely comfortable for her to be spiked like this, so he settled for grinding- long, slow rocking motions, sliding his spike against her node, purring deep in the back of his throat and dimming his optics slightly. "Oh... that's good. So pretty. Let- let me think, what -nngh- do I want to do with you? I- w-we could- hn, do you suppose you could take both of us? I'd like to see  _ that _ , and we could, hn- we could get you so  _ stuffed _ . Could pump your tank full." 

.

Doom growled louder at the thought, huffing angrily, and rumbled "don't  _ want _ to" in the back of his throat. Shaking his helm, hard, he began to curl into himself slightly, impeded only by Crucible's presence. "I don't want to. I don't want it. No." 

"Easy, Doom- it's all right, I won't make you," Crucible purred, reaching up to pet the side of Doom's helm, and patted his arm instead of pushing on his chassis plating. "It's all right. Bowline, probably best to pick another topic. He's still dealing with a lot of things. Poor dear, it's entirely understandable," he soothed, doing his best to make sure Doom didn't feel like he was being dismissed or babied. "He has a lot to work with. I hear you  _ did _ get an addition you liked though, Doom- how have you been enjoying yourself with your new equipment?" 

Doom growled again, shaking hsi helm slightly, but calmed slightly at the new topic. After a moment, he spoke, rather quietly but slightly less upset. "Itchy, first. Charge. Like this now, though. Gotta find someone to frag so I can like it all the way. Bowline doesn't wanna."

December 18, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/18/2018**

Burner smiled and nestled her helm down in the pillow, gently undulating into Acus's spike. That word again. Dappled, rosy, happiness fluttered through her field. It was possibly more satisfying than she'd ever like to admit. This was becoming so much nicer than she thought it'd be -so much sweeter than she thought she'd ever like. But Scalpel was here and Acus was calling her pretty and seemed to be having a good time himself. She wonder what he looked like now, that kinda mech she'd love to see a smile on his face. 

Burner had to consciously put her voice back into sexy-mode, lowering her pitch and curling her lips just right, "I can handle whatever you two throw at me." she couldn't quite get the purr right, it came out soft, though with just the right amount of confidence, it'll do, "In fact I'd like to see you  _ try _ to fill me up all the way. I betcha can't." A little play competition to get her back in the groove, she wasn't a bratty sub for nothing. No dom, no matter how sweet and gentle, could get her all the way mellow. Maybe she could even encourage Acus to get a little rowdy, he certainly had it in him.

.

Bowline was quiet for a moment, evidently that was not the correct approach. A different type of coaxing may be needed in the future. Persistence would be key with Doom, she felt, and a careful demarcation of boundaries that she would not cross. The difficult part was finding the boundaries, which she seemed to have done now. When at last she spoke again, it was quieter, "I think you will find many things to like in self-servicing. Even I do not know all the creative things people have done to themselves. There is an entire world you have opened up now, Doom, and it belongs wholly to you." Even that seemed a sore subject, given her refusal. She took a beat of silence and then shifted the conversation a bit, "You know, Doom, there seem to be a lot of things you do not like about your frame, which is completely understandable and not something anybody wants for you to think differently about. Even I, as much as I push, would not wish that for you. But I do wonder, what is your favorite part of yourself? I know I rather like your horns, I think they suit you very well."

##  **Betta132** **12/18/2018**

Acus flicked his winglets up slightly, helm cocking, and considered it for a moment before shifting back slightly. Compressing the toy, he gently pulled it out of Burner's valve, letting her rim relax, then looked up to Scalpel again with a glint in his optics. "S-she  _ is _ bratty. You... you wanna try'n quiet her up some? O-or should I... just... you know, maybe we should... see if she goes a bit less bratty if we, uh-" 

Pausing, he signed something to Scalpel to avoid Burner being able to hear, then pressed up between Burner's thighs and kept grinding against her. It felt good. 

Scalpel un-hooked Burner's cuffs from the wall and put her servos back in front of her, then, purring loudly, squirmed underneath Burner's frame and settled back against the cushions. Lifting Burner up, she hauled the other femme into her lap, spreading Burner's legs around her own, and propped her knees apart firmly in addition to the cables tying her in place. That left Burner spread open, exposed for Acus to play with, Scalpel's spike rubbing against her aft as she moved. "Here ya go, treasure." 

Acus watched intently the whole time, his little engine revving quietly, and pressed up between their thighs as soon as it was possible. Kneeling, he gripped Burner's hips firmly and pushed into her, a smooth, easy thrust, moaning softly under his breath as his spike was wrapped in soft, wet heat. " _ Ohh _ , pretty- so good," he whispered, and leaned forwards slightly, bracing himself for long, slow, gentle thrusts. He wasn't exactly the biggest bot, but the bio-lights along his spike were nicely conductive, and his fingertips were dipping into any seams they encountered to stroke and rub and tease.

.

Doom blinked a couple of times, thinking, and hummed quietly in contemplation. "Patches makes toys. Those look fun. Less sharp than my servos," he noted, looking down at his fingers. "I like that I can be fast about guns. I know how to do guns. And I can punch people  _ really hard _ , they crunch. And. I like my horns, too. They're sharp. Sometimes they scare people some. My  _ armor _ is good, it's just attached bad. And I like my- the teeth, and the things attached to my mouth. I can eat a lot of things. When they didn't give me any fuel, I just ate things that I found," he noted quietly, and notably stopped pushing on Crucible. 

"Should probably note that we aren't denying him fuel. Not on purpose, at least- he didn't know to ask at first," Crucible hummed, leaning his weight on Doom's chassis, and braced his pedes hard against the floor. "That was his, uh. Former commanders, I suppose. Not that they deserved to be called that, more along the lines of slavers. That sort of... so-called leader didn't tend to  _ feed _ MTOs much. Poor dear. At least they gave him the equipment to eat, ah- a lot of things! Including whatever he could catch."(edited)

December 19, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/19/2018**

Burner leaned back as much as she could into Scalpel, bathing in the warmth of another frame underneath her. She took a deep in-vent and relaxed, melting a bit at the heat of her own charge. She was almost surprised at the tension she'd built up just from being stretched out over the berth. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Acus slide inside of her. Wispy trails of pleasure danced up from her hips. Her belly tensed again and she let out a quiet moan. Her fingers twitched a bit from their restraints as she eased herself into Acus's rhythm, slowly, tentative at first then gradually getting more confident, until she seemed to tease his spike, lingering a little bit before pulling back. She grinned, steam escaping through the gaps in her dentae, the mech was doing admirably for, well, him, but too slow and too small wasn't going to do it. Her valve relaxed all the way and released another healthy dose of lube at the thought.

Burner hummed as another wave of charge pinged around her hips, "Better leave room for Scalpel, Acus," a steamy huff, "this valve's taking all comers." She laughed low and slow at her own joke, only realizing it a few kliks after speaking, considerably distracted by what was happening at her valve.

.

If Bowline had a face she would be frowning. There was something deeply wrong about the notion of depriving MTOs of fuel, objectively she knew this was true but the absolute indignation that rose in her mind almost seemed to reach through the cracked wall that separated her emotions from the rest of her processor. It was not surprising, no, she supposed, when one considered Doom's frame, the sheer lack of care with which he was constructed. But not  _ feeding _ your troops because of their frame? There was no context in which that was even remotely acceptable. But any form of anger would do nothing except for possibly rile Doom up again, which she would not like to be responsible for doing. There was nothing to be done after all except deal with the consequences. The flicker of indignation disappeared and once again her mind was silent, lukewarm. 

Bowline was silent for a bit longer than she'd wanted as she collected her thoughts once again, "I will make sure you get the fuel you need, Doom. You will not be treated that way again."

##  **Betta132** **12/19/2018**

"Hm, that's the point, li'l slickvalve," Scalpel muttered, nipping at Burner's audials, but gave Acus a little while to enjoy himself without having to try and coordinate anything. "Hnn, lovely girl, good- can you hear him?" 

Acus leaned in over Burner's frame, gripping her waist for support, thrusting in soft, firm motions meant to stroke along the wall of her valve as nicely as possible. That was his best shot here- if they were both standing, he'd only come up to her mid chassis, and a proportionate spike meant he didn't have the girth to fill her up as snugly as most liked. But he  _ could _ focus on specific areas of her valve. Scalpel always liked this, and she was his best example for this. He wasn't exactly a vocal mech, but he was trilling softly under his breath, crooning hopefully, moaning now and then as her valve clamped down. 

"Sweet li'l thing. He doesn't tend to be too loud... but he's enjoyin' himself. Now, heh- be  _ still _ for me, good girl," Scalpel purred, firmly gripping Burner's hips to shift her, and moved until her spike was lined up with Burner's valve. Acus pulled out almost all the way, and Scalpel pressed the tip of her spike into Burner's valve, then rocked her hips up and thrust firmly. Acus, quivering eagerly, waited for just a moment longer, then slowly pushed back in alongside Scalpel's spike, moving his hips in tiny thrusting motions. Scalpel wasn't exactly thick, so they'd definitely both fit, but,  _ nngh _ , it was tight, and best to move slowly at first. Acus, nngh- Acus was moaning softly, frame pressed against Burner's, one servo sliding down to grip at Scalpel's frame for some support. She was squirming a bit less than Burner, after all, just rocking her hips in slow, easy thrusts. 

.

##  **Betta132** **12/19/2018**

Doom puffed up his chassis slightly, armor flaring in determination, and tried to look over his shoulder at Burner. "I won't let them! They're dead anyway. Corpses can't make you not do anything. And if anyone else tries to stop me, I can make them into a corpse. And then eat them! Corpses have food in them." 

"Oh, yes, it is horrifying, but it almost makes sense. No need to feed someone who's going to die in battle before they get hungry. That doesn't make it any less horrible, of course," Crucible sighed, now more petting Doom's chassis than trying to fix everything. He was basically done. "Doom was part of a set of batches who were dropped into battle with no supplies aside from weapons, intended to do as much damage as possible before dying. Any who survived and were in decent enough shape to still be useful were generally fueled enough to replace energon loss, but... most never saw a medic in their lives. Most didn't even last through their first battle." 

"Sometimes they got all the dead ones, too. Not for fighting, corpses can't fight. They took those off to make back into frames again and start new bots," Doom explained, not really sounding particularly upset, then looked down at his belly. "There's scar marks here. Ones I didn't get when I was alive. I think they put me together out of some corpses." 

"Aaand that's why there's all sorts of names for these MTO batches. Mostly calling them demons. It's all nonsense, of course- they're not people any less than MTOs built from scratch, or bots born by more natural means, of course," Crucible hummed, leaning up to pet around Doom's lower jaw.

December 20, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/20/2018**

Burner's frame tensed almost all the way as Acus's spike slid inside to join Scalpel's. That was a  _ lot, _ it was  _ so much, _ it was  _ perfect. _ A vocal sigh clung to her throat as she let the two bots lead. She was breathing heavily now, within spitting distance of overload. Listening to the Acus's quiet moans, she leaned into him. She could feel almost the entirety of his frame against hers, a tiny mech by any standard. He was almost close enough to feel her spike rub against his belly plating when he thrusted, almost. His chassis intermittently pressed up against her tied up servos, they were beginning to get in the way. She couldn't see where she would put them, she knew where she  _ wanted _ to put them. Acus would fit perfectly pressed against her abdomen and she could curl around him well enough, a simple rope her arms around the bot and pull him in. But she had no idea where he ended other than a vague approximation of here he could be, and who knew, arms coming down around him might spook him too bad. She settled for keeping her servos resting gently on her chassis plating, elbows close to her sides.

With a loud moan, Burner arched back into Scalpel as both bots thrust into her again,  _ yes. _ A new wave of charge washed up her frame, clinging to her chassis like a soft embrace, its delicate fingers seeping into the cracks in her frame. Lube coursed between the two spikes and dripped out onto the covers, she was so  _ close. _

.

Bowline didn't quite know how to respond, the thought of salvaging corpses was pulling at her in unexpected ways. She thought of Salvo, his tirades about MTO rights, their constant struggle for autonomy. He'd put up such a fight when Sticks had announced they'd been using spare corpses to learn from, Primus only knows how he'd react to this information. She put a gentle servo on Doom's shoulder, "That is very interesting, Doom, if not slightly disturbing. I will tell you now, though, I have a friend. His name is Salvo. He is red, an MTO soldier a little bit like you. You two would have a lot to talk about, I believe, but not that. I do not know how he would take the concept," she paused, letting her words soak in, "That being said, it seems we two are not so different after all. You look much more put-together than I do, though. It is easy to tell my parts came from another. The corpses certainly could not use the parts anymore."

##  **Betta132** **12/20/2018**

Acus squirmed slightly, panting out a soft whimper, then squirmed around until he managed to get Burner's arms around him. He wanted to touch, to  _ be _ touched- wanted  _ more _ , and he trilled pleadingly as he snuggled into Burner's front. He wasn't usually on top at all, and he was enjoying himself, of  _ course _ , but he wanted to be  _ held _ ! And, oh- a little twitch of surprise as Burner's spike rubbed against his belly, then he deliberately leaned in further, pressed tight to her frame as he thrust. His belly was going to be smeared with fluids after this, but,  _ oh _ , he liked that idea! Gripping Burner's frame tighter and leaning in close, he sped his thrusts up slightly, mouthing and licking at whatever plating came against his face. A quick squirm to make sure his winglets weren't clamped, and this whole situation became  _ perfect _ . He was too far gone in bliss to be even remotely bothered by someone gripping his frame. Not just that, he felt  _ safe _ . Scalpel was here, the relatively unfamiliar partner was  _ tied up _ , and he was perfectly safe.

Scalpel's response to the pleading noises was, of course, to oblige, one servo releasing Burner's frame and sliding up to rub between Acus' winglets. He got like this, sometimes- a very excited sort of subby headspace, squirming and desperately seeking after any sort of contact, eager to please and to be pleased. "Good treasure, good," she whispered, and sped up to match his thrust speed, but slightly out of sync with him. They would both pull out at about the same time, leaving Burner's valve all but empty, then Acus would thrust, and Scalpel would wait for an instant before following him, a one-two motion that filled her in a different way than a single shaft would. When Scalpel had tried something like this with prior partners, this was what got all the best noises out of them. 

.

"Oof, good point," Crucible sighed, busying himself with smoothing out some of the new welds on Doom's arm. "It's not something to be ashamed of, Doom, but it's a potentially upsetting topic for a lot of people. Now- the medics here  _ do _ salvage from corpses sometimes, when they're in decent enough shape. Mostly organs and some of the materials that are especially hard to synthesize. Limbs and the like, they can begin to build from scratch, but organs are a lot harder to make and we don't have all the facilities up and running yet. Sometimes you'll see corpses near the edges of battlefields, flayed open down the center, spread out a bit- it looks alarming, but usually it's just from a very hurried battlefield medic who desperately needed spare parts. You can tell because the cuts will be clean and precise," he explained, up in Burner's general direction. "Ours have the time to be a bit more respectful. Minimal damage to the frame, then tuck it away somewhere quiet or outright bury it, depending on situation." 

"Weird. Corpses don't care about resp-ect-ful," Doom declared, both servos on Crucible's frame again, stroking down his back. "Too dead. Don't... anything. Except taste. You can eat them. Or...  _ I _ can eat them. You can't. No teeth," he noted, and glanced over his shoulder again. "How do you get fuel with no mouth?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/20/2018**

Burner's mouth lolled open as short, breathy noises were thrust out of her. She was helpless as string of drool fell out of her mouth but she didn't care. Her charge rocketed skyward, she pulled Acus close to her frame and overloaded with a loud, distorted, keen. She came with the intensity of a thunderstorm as she curled into Acus, tensing in full-frame waves. Her valve undulated around their two spikes, gushing a significant amount of lube. Her own spike pulsed against Acus's belly, shooting transfluid into the space between their two frames over and over again. 

By the time she was done, her entire frame quivered. She slumped forward, leaning her forehelm onto the small medic's shoulders, panting heavily, steam rising from in between the cracks of her chassis, soft, quiet, tired noises escaping from the back of her throat, her field ballooning with pleasure. She tried to catch her breath again, almost absentmindedly stroking what her fingertips could find of Acus's back.

.

"It is unfortunate to know that there are frames out there without their entirety, but it is a necessity in times such as these," Bowline said, continuing to pet Doom's shoulders, "It took a lot of convincing to get Salvo to fully recognize the importance of salvaging for my own parts and even now he will avoid the topic." She paused, and leaned in to emphasize she was talking to Doom, "The problem is, Doom, while those frames may not be able to do anything, the friends they made in life might. How would you like it if you found out one of your friends's frames was raided without your knowledge? There is no saying they will not just disappear, either, considering the shortage of parts." 

Bowline straightened up a bit and sighed, "After all is said and done, not much remains of a bot after they are gone, save for your memories and their frame -a frame which belonged to them the way mine does to me, or yours to you. Of course we all do what we need to in order to survive, and the dead truly have no claim over their parts anymore, but it is difficult to truly come to terms with their memory. My arms and legs are mine now, but they carry with them the legacy of the bots they belonged to before. Every soul deserves a memory, no matter if there are people alive to recall them personally or not." She paused, lingering on that note for a bit, "Thus I can see where Salvo is coming from, even if practicality takes priority."

##  **Betta132** **12/20/2018**

Acus came as Burner did, keening into her plating, hips bucking in quick little thrusts as his spike added to the mess of fluids dripping out of Burner's valve. Panting and whimpering softly as Scalpel kept moving, he curled in tight, face pressed to Burner's frame as he tried to hug close against her. Nngh. Oh, Primus. 

Scalpel kept thrusting for a few long moments, biting down on Burner's scruff, then overloaded with a soft, hissing growl and a hard buck of her hips. Panting softly, she reached down with one pede and undid the quick-release cuffs around Burner's ankles with her claws, then sort of... spilled Burner and Acus into a heap next to herself so she could curl around them. "Heh. That all you can take, femme? You jus' a mess, then?" she muttered, reaching over to pet Acus' winglets, and was rewarded by a happy chirp from somewhere around the vicinity of Burner's stomach. "Gone 'n fucked 'is brains out, eh?" 

.

Doom contemplated that for a moment, then shrugged, scritching at one of his horns. "Ate some of 'em. Well- parts. The soft bits. It happens- if you're hungry, you gotta eat something," he sighed, and leaned back into the rubbing, a quiet purr starting up somewhere in his chassis. "That's nice. Keep doing that." 

"MTOs go in all sorts of directions as far as things like respect for the dead," Crucible noted, smoothing off a final weld mark, and sighed heavily. "It's the sort of thing that sometimes changes over time, sometimes... doesn't. Opinions can be slippery little things," he sighed, leaning slightly against Doom's front. "I'm glad you two seem to be getting along! I'd imagine it helps some that you're big enough not to be bothered by his general roughness. He's still learning how to manage his emotions, you kn- oh, Soundwave's asleep, that is  _ adorable _ ," he commented, looking over towards the chairs. "Look at him." 

Soundwave did, in fact, appear to be asleep. He was curled up in the seat of the large chair, bundled up neatly, with Laserbeak perched on top of him. None of him appeared to be in the mood to move. He was... probably still alive, though, bio-lights flickering softly. The light on his forehelm in particular was flickering intermittently, brighter and dimmer. It...  _ was _ rather cute.

 

Burner chuckled tiredly once she regained enough composure to speak, "Yeah I think so. The day was tiring enough before we got the righteous pounding we all deserved." Now that her mind wasn't entirely scrambled, her fingers searched more purposefully for a good place to pet on Acus's back and found the base of one of his winglets, drawing her fingers around its tiny seams. With this good of a touch, she could feel his relaxation, the staticky warmth post-overload. She supposed it was about time to take the blindfold off but she didn't quite need to, she could feel what she really needed. She hummed, "Small mech, makes for a good hug."

Burner lay for a while, letting tension bleed out of her frame and onto the berth, the entire time focusing just enough on what she could feel of Acus. When at last she felt her frame cool to a reasonable temperature, she shifted a bit, moving both helm and servos to flick the blindfold off her head. She laughed warmly, there was something greatly endearing about seeing just the slightest bit of the small mech curled against her frame. She looked a bit further down to see the damage. The polish on her thighs was definitely gone, replaced by a gratuitous spattering of lube and transfluid that traveled up to her belly,  _ nice. _ Her optics flicked to Scalpel's and back to the mess, "definitely got the proper railing I asked for." She looked back to Scalpel, this time, her gaze staying longer. A small smile crept up her face, afterglow Scalpel was her favorite. There were things she could say, but she wanted to just bask in the glory of the moment for a little longer. At last her voice came out a quiet mumble, "fuck I got lucky."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/20/2018**

.

"It seems every mech needs to sleep, despite what some may think," Bowline said, absentmindedly moving her servos. It had been a while since she'd done this. Draft was the only bot big enough to really properly massage with the size of her servos and he never seemed to want it. She imagined this was Salvo's doing. She wasn't the best, she knew this. Something about too rough and too quick were the criticisms she remembered receiving all those eons ago after a tiring shift at the astrodock. One did what one must, however. She slid her servos towards the base of Doom's neck and rubbed with her thumbs, this worked, right? She began to think out loud a bit, "If I were to guess, there is a correlation between religion and respect for the dead. None of the MTOs I have met seem to have any religious knowledge whatsoever. Salvo's reasons are specific to him in ways I do not feel comfortable sharing without his permission. Sticks is a rather interesting case as well, though they have told me they are not an MTO. But judging from what I have observed, MTOs do not share religion in the same way others do. I believe we would see a much more uniform distribution of beliefs had MTOs better education on faith. Which begs the question, Doom, do you believe in Primus?" She was curious. She began to rub behind his audials, "If the question makes you uncomfortable, it is fine. We may change the subject without another word."

##  **Betta132** **12/20/2018**

Scalpel, optics dim, uncuffed Burner's servos and hooked a leg over her frame as both servos slid to Acus. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his frame, and had an idea what he looked like right now. Snuggling into the nearest source of warmth, winglets relaxed but considerably higher on his back than usual, bio-lights pulsing softly and happily. He looked small like this, but it was... different than some other circumstances. He didn't look like a broken little doll. He just looked... sleepy, and very cozy. "Lookit 'im. All soft," she muttered, stroking the tips of Acus' winglets gently between her fingertips. "Such a sweet li'l thing. So eager. Never really gets much of a chance t' dom. And he does so  _ well _ if you praise him, he just lights up," she whispered, field pulsing something soft and warm. "So damn starved for attention. An' he  _ trusts _ me, has nearly as long's I've known 'm. Trust 'im, too. Ohh... Primus. I love this li'l thing." 

Acus could hear Scalpel, and his field flickered something timid, but  _ thrilled _ , at her words. Giving a tiny whimpering noise, he squirmed gently against Burner's frame, gripping at her with delicate servos, simultaneously hiding from and looking for- well. Everything. All of it. Every bit, and more. Anything and everything, that Scalpel wanted of him. In an  _ instant _ . 

.

Doom growled, much softer than before, and leaned his helm firmly into the rubs. He didn't have the surface sensors or the contact experience to notice or care about roughness. Growling a noise that was closer to a purr, he went almost completely limp against her, gladly letting Bowline support his weight. "Hn. Yeah. 's a thing. People swear at it. Don' know why... nnm." 

"We haven't covered religion, it- oof," Crucible squeaked, a bit startled as Doom abruptly pulled him close, but made no effort to get away. Okay, sure. "-it seemed like too complicated of a subject to go over right now, with things like history and current events a bit more relevant. I can tell you, though- we have a bot on the ship, Avalon, who swears Cybertron is a living being. You've probably seen him- big bot covered in scrap metal. He doesn't talk, in any form, so it's a bit hard to understand him, but... he's a miner, the oldest bot on this ship by far, and he's been deeper into the planet than anyone alive. He's drawn some fascinating things to show me. I don't know if it's a  _ god _ , per se, but I'm convinced the planet is a being of some sort."

December 21, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

Burner smiled warmly, flexing her newly-unbound wrists against their stiffness. There was something so deeply, intensely beautiful about Scalpel's softness, the way she spoke with so much  _ love. _ And Acus, tired, happier than she'd ever seen him, and  _ glowing. _ Scars on him like she'd seen? It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together. The two seemed to bring each other to very tender places. She supposed if she were a different femme, if she were younger, she'd feel jealous. She was the stranger in the berth, after all. But instead she was honored, it was a privilege to witness so close the relationship the two shared. She only wished one day she'd find a kind of devotion like that for herself.

Burner shifted to rest her helm on one elbow. Looking down at Acus, she reached with her free servo to pet his helm. A smirk pulled at her lips as she realized her palm was big enough to cover a considerable portion of his head. She stroked a few times and moved over to gently rub an audial fin between two fingers, "Most pleasant experience I've had with a mech thusfar, but that bar is pretty low all things considered," She spoke quietly, unconsciously picking up on Scalpel's sweet tone, "And for a newbie dom, you did pretty damn well. Solid 8 outta 10. Knew what to say, and excellent technique. How you say it needs a lil work but that comes with practice. I happen to know a willing sub with a completely clear schedule, nothin in her plans except for a lil cuddling aftercare."

.

Bowline paused her petting and considered for a moment. The thought was  _ intriguing. _ She was never quite religious herself. The gods seemed too far away for a bot like her and any organization around belief was too ripe for corruption. But the idea of some sort of god of the ground, of the planet itself, was much more enticing than anything she'd heard before. She resumed her massage, moving up now to rub at the base of Doom's horns, working her way upward, "I will admit that is much more appealing than the current pantheon. The gods have always been far too far away to catch my faith, but there is something rather personal about living ground. It is hard to deny the existence of the metal beneath one's pedes. It is also not something one may deny others. We each are ruled by gravity the same as everyone else. It is difficult to corrupt or twist. Yes, I do quite like that idea."

Bowline shifted her servos again to Doom's shoulders, this time angled downwards to get at his back plates, "You need not worry yourself with the gods, Doom, they are optional."

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

Acus glanced up at Burner and smiled, soft and shy, servos straying up her sides to look for good, sensitive spots to pet. "Good. Just- just wanted t' make you feel good. That was... 's  _ hot _ . Pretty. I... I want to... again. Later. But- I-I want-" he began, and un-tucked himself from Burner's front, slinking over her frame in order to press down between her and Scalpel. He wanted  _ Scalpel _ , wanted to touch her, wanted nothing more than to be held. He liked Burner, he did, but Scalpel- Scalpel didn't usually talk this much about him, there was no one else to talk to, and he- he was- 

A quiet, shaky noise akin to a sob, and Acus nuzzled into Scalpel's throat, crooning up at her. "Love you,  _ love you _ -" he whispered, clutching her tight, legs wrapping around her frame as much as he could. "Please-" 

"Easy, easy, I gotcha- I know, treasure," Scalpel crooned, holding Acus as close as he wanted, and glanced over him to gesture slightly to Burner. She was welcome to smush up against Acus' back if she wanted, but like Pit was Scalpel going to even  _ consider _ making Acus move. And, slag it- she felt too good, and he was too affectionate, to be shy about anything. "Love 'y too, y'... squishy li'l thing," she whispered, squeezing him close, then slid a servo down to touch his stomach. He was a small-framed bot, always would be, but he'd been  _ too _ slender for most of the time she'd known him. He was finally starting to put on a bit of energy storage, just enough to give him a little bit of squish to his stomach, and Scalpel took that as an excellent sign for his health and level of stress. Plus, having his tummy a bit softer was just plain cute. Huffing quietly, she squeezed Acus close with one arm and a leg, and pulled Burner in close with whatever else she had free. "Ain't gonn' get much detailed aftercare outta him for a bit. You a'ight?"

.

"Once things settle down, I fully intend to go and see for myself!" Crucible declared, a bit muffled by Doom's hugging. "If you ask the medics, general consensus seems to be that Primus and/or Unicron exist, but are either limited in their power or are both, ah- I believe Scalpel summed it up as 'Primus exists and he is either dead a dick', so, make of that what you will. They've seen too much slag to believe in a kind god actively trying to help our species, evidently. But yes, Doom, you don't need to worry about anything related to this. You have a few million years to figure out what you think of religion." 

.

(cue currently-in-labor Blackspark turning up in the medbay near Sticks?)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(did u see me tungle messages? :0)

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

(I did not. Idea: excellent. you wanna set the scene?)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(sure, i'll let u pick who's checkin on em)

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

(probably best if it's Patches, he knows how kids work)

(also I figure the medbay has an alarm for "OH SHIT EMERGENCY" but also one for "hi!! fairly urgent situation but nobody's dying", and this would be the latter)

(hm, actually-)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(imagining patches like, standing straight upright and then just dropkicking the door "THERE'S KIDS COMIN")

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

(Patches, who knows how to Childbirth, or Acus who has no idea but will try?)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(i mean, i imagine most of em are going to be somewhat involved, no?)

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

(unless some are off the ship for whatever reason. also carriers probably don't want like 10 people worth of company)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(just a whole ass audience)

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

(gonna say Patches checkin on Sticks, Acus in medbay, Scalpel and Forceps off doin stuff)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

(  )

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

The room was dim when Sticks opened their optics again. They seemed to have dozed off... wonder what they'd missed of the movie. Wait, this was... this was  _ their _ room. Nobody else had nightlights as far as they knew. They were alone, too, no ragtag group of bots around them. Maybe they were asleep for longer than they'd expected and Forceps had moved them out of the soft room. Speaking of which, they were not here, understandable, probably went back to work. They squirmed a bit under the covers to wake up a little more and found their joints... a little stiff. Must've been the couch, sleeping at a weird angle would do that. They rolled their helm around, finding their neck even stiffer and finally figured out they weren't alone. Optics snapping open they propped themself up on a shoulder to get a better look. It was... 

"...Patches?" their voice came out funny, not 'I just screamed hard enough to fry my voicebox' funny but the kinda sticky, 'haven't spoken in a long time' funny. That was... odd. They cocked their helm and looked quizzically at the intruder, "Patches, why are you in my room?"

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

"Hello, sweetie," Patches hummed, looking quietly happy to see Sticks awake, and slowly reached out to grip their unoccupied arm. "Easy. You were asleep for a thoroughly unusual amount of time, Sticks, I came in to check on you. Poor dear, I'm not surprised- you've needed your rest. I'm sure you're a bit stiff, but are you feeling all right other than that? Your systems may take a little while to- oh, excuse me." 

A pause, helm cocking and winglets lifting slightly in that universal "answering a COMM" pose, and Patches' winglets lifted considerably further. "Oh! Are you feeling well enough to come and watch something? Evidently Blackspark is here because the sparkling is ready to be born, and this is a very educational opportunity. You don't have to walk- I can carry you! In fact- you know what, I'm sure you're fine, let's go-" he declared, and uncovered Sticks from the blankets, scooping them up. "Come on!" 

.

Outside, Blackspark was- well. He wasn't in the main room any more, he'd opened the closet and pulled a considerable amount of blankets and padding down off the shelves. He had then proceeded to mostly bury himself in them. Acus was there, too, right next to the closet, looking quietly concerned and thoroughly fascinated. Blackspark, meanwhile, mostly looked somewhere between vaguely concerned, cheerful, and high. "Hi, baby-medic, you- oof- wanna meet 'n actual  _ baby _ ? 'Cos this one's ready ta get out," he muttered, glancing down at the clear fluid dripping from a gap in his stomach plating. 

.

Blackspark had shoved a mattress out of the closet to make room, so Patches set Sticks down on that, kneeling in front of the closet. "Oh, goodness, I am not surprised by this at all. Carriers about to give birth tend to nest. And that looks comfy! Now... let me see," he purred, field pulsing a specific tone of  _ medic/comfort/warmth/reassurance/confidence _ he used on carriers, slowly reaching for Blackspark- but jerked back quickly when Blackspark tensed and hissed. "-and they can get a bit defensive. You wouldn't believe how many times I've had carriers bite me."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

Sticks's head was still spinning as their aft hit the mattress. They'd been asleep enough to- they were PICKED UP- and Blackspark was-  _ fuck _ Blackspark was- Their optics were as wide as full moons as they spotted the evidence. It was- time to be in medic mode, it was NOT freak out time, no. They closed their optics and counted down ten kliks. When they opened their optics again- everything was the same. A low groan, "oh, why did I think that would help." Right. Focus. Maybe standing up would be better? Might make them look less like an utter fool at least. The second they were mostly vertical, the room began to sway around them. They crouched, knees bent and spread apart until things stopped spinning and managed to stagger over to lean on Patches. They looked across to Acus with a vastly confused expression, a gesture of 'what the fuck did I just wake up to.' But -the mech wasn't looking, great. 

Sticks put an exasperated servo on their forehelm and performed what was possibly more an extended grunt than a sigh. When they finally looked back at Blackspark, they tried their best smile, which ended up looking like the last resort of a frightened prey animal more than anything else, "Hey Blackspark good to see you, how're you doing? You feeling okay?" they caught another glimpse of the fluid leaking from his belly, not unlike what a ruptured fuel tank looked like save for the fact there wasn't energon everywhere, "Dear Primus that is  _ horrifying, _ mech." They instinctively leaned in to do something- what were they going to do? They had no idea what to do. Why were they leaning in? They froze, "Blackspark if you're gonna bite me I'm going to have to insist it is  _ anywhere _ but the servos, they're  _ brand new. _ "(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

"Yeah, uh, sorry, no bitin', just... I got, uh, stuff's happenin', yeah? An' it's a mess, an' I didn't really do this on  _ purpose _ , ya know? An' I didn't mind, I'm, this's great, I just, uhh... there's a kid in m' guts who wants out," Blackspark laughed, optics a bit over-wide, his grin that strained-edged shape that he got when he was trying to hide that something was bothering him. Like when Forceps had accidentally brought a knife just slightly too close to his midsection and he had flinched so badly he'd nearly fallen over.

"Easy. I know it's a lot, it's okay. Just... breathe, sweetie, deep breaths. You're fine. Those hormones are gonna kick in any nanoklik now, an' then you'll feel a lot better," Patches purred, and stayed right up next to the closet, exuding enough calm for all four of them. "Honestly, you'd probably be fine all on your own. It's a natural process, billions of sparklings have been born just fine all on their own. I'm here for insurance, and... because I have two relatively young bots, one of whom is an MTO, who have never even met a carrier before now. You can be educational. Just... breathe. Okay. You ready for me to touch?" he crooned, and moved in, but only when Blackspark nodded. Crooning soft reassurance, he stroked along Blackspark's stomach, along the slowly expanding slit, and spoke quietly to the little audience. 

"There's a membrane sealing off the gestation tank from the world. It thins out as the sparkling approaches maturity, and, when the sparkling is ready and has fully detached, it tears. A bit at first, like this. It's perfectly normal... nothing to worry about. But, because this can be so alarming for the carrier, because of all the movement, it triggers a hormone surge. Then the frame shifts enough to tear the membrane the rest of the way, and a series of minor transformation sequences engage to let the sparkling out. It's a simple process."

Blackspark vented heavily for a few moments, slowly relaxing, and made no move to get away from the servos on his frame. Nor did he try to get away as Patches eased him onto his back a bit further. His optics clouded over a bit, and he blinked a few times, slowly, then a much more natural grin spread across his face. "Ooh.  _ Ooh _ , okay, thaaat's... ooh, that's them hormones," he declared, wearing a slightly loopy expression, and purred quietly. Well. Just for a moment, then his whole frame convulsed sharply, and the trickle of fluids became a gush that thoroughly soaked most of his lower half. "-ow. Fuck."

"Easy- that's the worst part, right there, that membrane tearing. The rest of it is... well, I've never actually given birth, but I've seen a lot of births, and I'm told the parts after this are mostly just weird. Here- you two move up some," Patches ordered softly, and gathered both Sticks and Acus in closer to look.

Blackspark didn't seem to notice them, staring intently at his own stomach as the gap in his stomach cables spread wider. That was an odd thing- the cables spreading apart as if pulled, completely under their own power. More than that, something was  _ moving _ underneath, deep purple-black plating beginning to make itself visible as the fluid gush tapered off into a drip. There was a distinct form moving under there, and, after a moment, a tiny, clawed servo  _ reached _ through the gap from inside.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/21/2018**

Sticks flinched aggressively at the sight of Blackspark seemingly breaking in half. That was- they could almost feel that snap. They were so thoroughly revulsed but they couldn't look away, "Tell ya what Blackspark, I've seen some nasty slag in my life but this takes the-" then the servo popped out and they flinched again. Something deep inside them was screaming that things were very wrong, a hole  _ that big _ in someone's belly was so often an emergency situation, a hole that big and  _ moving, _ only happened with parasites or-or scavengers or- "Primus, is that what I looked like rooting around in corpses," they muttered. How was everyone so  _ calm, _ Patches- well this was his job, his real trained job that made sense, how was  _ Acus _ so calm? They looked to Blackspark's face, this couldn't have been too good for  _ him _ either. And then they got a thought, the first one to make actual sense since they woke up. They could do something. They didn't want to push past Acus and did  _ not _ want to get in the way of what was happening so they chose their best route.

"Patches stay still for a sec," Sticks said, voice low. They crouched down and jumped, catching Patches's pauldrons with their servos and quickly pulled themself up, then jumped off the other side clinging onto a shelf so they didn't hit the ground too hard. There was a nice spot right next to Blackspark's helm where they'd fit. They gingerly pushed the towels away and nestled down, surprisingly energized for such a tiring stunt- well, must be the adrenaline. There wasn't quite enough room for them to curl down like they were feeling they should so they settled for gently petting the top of Blackspark's helm with one servo and using the other to put some reassuring pressure on his shoulder. They couldn't quite be convinced it was going to be okay but in the off-chance that it wasn't, it would be important to keep Blackspark as calm as possible.

  
  


##  **Betta132** **12/21/2018**

"It's all right," Patches murmured, voice and optics soft, and didn't respond to the climbing aside from tensing his frame slightly to give Sticks a better purchase. He could feel Acus smushed against his side, could feel those cute little winglets lifted in a gesture of curiosity, and he kept an arm firmly around the smaller medic to keep him calm. "It's all right... I know it's a lot, but that little one's gotta get out somehow, you know? It...  _ does _ look pretty horrifying, I suppose, but it's fine. Everything is going well. That's a good sign, the little one being nice and lively. Blackspark- if you'd just bring your servos up a bit, that would be good. Support the little one. Now... you feel that missing field, you two? That's a defense response, and a very old one. From back when there was no guarantee that someone would be giving birth in a safe environment. Keeps anything from noticing. It tends to come back in a bit of a rush after things are over." 

Acus was- oh, he was fascinated. Vaguely horrified, but Patches was calm, and he trusted Patches. And Blackspark- Blackspark didn't look quite like anything was wrong. Bots who were injured badly acted like it, or at least acted like they were in shock. This wasn't shock, this wasn't pain, just... quiet, dazed fascination.

Blackspark brought his servos up slightly, cupping his stomach, careful to keep his claws back. His field was absent, his optics soft, but he was... he was okay. This wasn't... wrong. He knew what wrong felt like, and this wasn't it. That was the hormones, maybe, but... it was all right. He was fine. No more of his frame squirming without his signals, no more pain from the ripped membrane, just that odd spreading sensation in his frame and the familiar-but-strengthening motions of his sparkling moving. 

Some sparklings would wait until the tank was almost fully exposed, would wait until getting out was easier. This one? This one did not. A moment more of squirming, then strong little legs kicked hard, and the tiny frame slid out with a final rush of fluids. Wet black plating gleamed in the light, and a set of thoroughly distinctive data-cables furled clumsily across Blackspark's belly as tiny, bright white optics blinked open. A moment of complete silence, then the little mouth opened, showing pitch-black gums that would probably grow fangs like Blackspark's, and the sparkling gave a complaining squeal at the presence of the light. Tiny servos locked around Blackspark's finger, fingers hindered slightly by tiny silicone caps over the clawtips, and tiny, three-clawed pedes kicked hard against his plating to shred through the thick caps over the points. Blackspark didn't give anyone much of a chance to get a better look, though, because he immediately cradled the bitty frame right up against his throat. Another instant of silence, then his field flooded back in a rush, a powerful wave of something that could only be described as a soundless  _ croon _ .

December 22, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/22/2018**

Sticks felt some of the tension drain from their frame as they felt Blackspark's field return. That was... sweet, very sweet. The mech wasn't in any pain, at least, despite the -they sat up to get a better look- fairly large hole in his abdomen. They pulled their servos away and sat back, giving Blackspark and the newborn some space. Sticks realized they'd done absolutely nothing to help but the petting seemed to calm their own aft down at least. They took a few steadying breaths and gave the two some silence. They'd seen sparklings before, only rarely, though, on the occasion the clientele that visited their part of the archive was strained enough to need to bring their progeny with them. They watched for a moment until they felt a belated sense of shame. It was rather a private moment wasn't it. They looked anywhere else- the wall, up at the shelves above them, out the door at Acus and finally at Patches. They couldn't imagine doing this every day. So many ways it could go wrong, so much emotion. And if something had gone wrong there'd be that much more at stake. They shook their helm slightly. This was not how they'd expected things to go but evidently it just was. 

When Sticks finally caught Patches's optics they gestured slightly and began to sign,  _ "What to do about abdomen injury?" _ Still clunky but a necessary question. Another thing chewed at the back of their mind that was visible now their 'crisis medic' thoughts were quieter. They'd been  _ out. _ Really, truly, out. Long enough for Patches to go check on them. How much did they miss? Now was not the time, though, questions for later.

##  **Betta132** **12/22/2018**

The sparkling did  _ not _ seem to be in any mood to sit and be cuddled. Beeping in excitement, the tiny thing stretched up towards Sticks, optics unfocused but servos moving relatively smoothly. Those little optics couldn't see much yet, but they knew Sticks was there, and, hello! 

"Ahh, baby, hi... hi, you- you wanna meet the baby-medic, huh?" Blackspark crooned, and leaned his helm gently into Sticks' frame, purring up at them and putting them in reach. "Hi, baby. Hi, sweet. Oh... hello, hello. Hi there. Hi. Heh- guess Soundwave's genetics took, huh?" he crooned, carefully gathering the delicate cables up so they weren't in the way, cradling his bundle of sparkling. The little thing was tiny, easy enough to support in two servos, but so determined! Little pedes kicking in an attempt at getting to the New Person, claws skittering and trying to grab, peeping loudly as their fingertips touched Sticks' frame. 

"Oh, isn't that  _ precious _ !" Patches cooed, field wiggling slightly, and scrubbed at his optics for a moment with one forearm before reaching to inspect Blackspark. "Here- may I see? Just going to check for anything unusual," he explained softly, and carefully parted the slackening cables with his fingertips, looking quickly for any sort of wound. "Hm- no. Everything's fine. We'll just... gather this all up nice and close, okay? I'm going to wrap your stomach in a bit of bandaging to help with everything, but your frame will take care of everything on its own. Relax all the cables back, close off your tank, and so on. Alarming as it looks, you're fine." 

Acus, fascinated, basking in the shivering waves of delight coming off of Blackspark, slunk in close and dared to press up against Blackspark as Patches worked. Well- against his leg, he didn't dare get any closer, but he couldn't just  _ not _ \- not get close to that precious little life, chirping so sweetly and clinging determinedly to Sticks' frame despite having just been born moments ago.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/22/2018**

"I-ah," Sticks's optics widened as the sparkling crawled onto them, "Alright. okay. What-hmm. You know your dad's right over... there, yeah? I'm not." They sighed and slowly brought their arms down around the new frame in their lap, "ah fuck it you probably can't understand what I'm saying anyway." The child was  _ rather _ large for them but not unmanageable... hopefully? At least it probably wasn't strong enough to pick them up, that was refreshing. A quick glance up to Patches to confirm everything was okay and the sparkling gained their full attention, a welcome distraction from... all of that. They frowned a bit and gently prodded the baby until he was where they could get a proper look. As reward, they pet his helm, everyone liked that to some extent, right? Barring, well, special circumstances. There was a slight  _ something _ inside them that was reacting to this, a brand new life and here it was sitting in their lap. The thing couldn't even speak yet and yet here it was. If there wasn't so much going on they probably would have had more of a reaction but the overwhelming feeling now was a tame kind of curiosity. After a few kliks, they gently held his helm in their servos to take in his face, craning their neck in and looking straight into his optics. An instant and they let go and set again to helm pats and neck scratching. 

"He's got... a face, doesn't he Got your optics too, Blackspark," Sticks frowned, that was a quantifiably stupid thing to say. They were immensely distracted they'd never been  _ this _ close to a sparkling ever, nor anyone so new. How were they supposed to act? How did one make a good impression... on a child. They could see Acus's optics bright near Blackspark's leg, staring, "You've probably got more training than I do with sparklings,  Acus, you wanna come sit over here? I've got solidly no clue what I'm doing."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/22/2018**

"Weh," the sparkling declared, and glommed clumsily onto his arm, attempting to suck on the cabling. Fortunately for Sticks, the little one wasn't doing much, just sitting there with Blackspark nuzzling into his flank to get at the sparkling-smell. 

"I've... never even seen one. They weren't in my training at  _ all _ beyond basic care differences for carriers. I've- I've been researching, though, and that... seems to be about right?" he ventured softly, slinking up Blackspark's frame again- and chirped quietly when Blackspark landed a servo on his helm and began to scritch. Oh, goodness. 

Patches crooned softly from where he was wrapping Blackspark's stomach in a thick layer of mesh, and offered all three-and-a-half of them a smile. "It is. Sparklings this young are very easy to keep happy- just talk. It helps them develop their language skills, and it shows them that everything is safe. Though- might want to get the little one down to his belly, they'll need to nurse. And they're going to need a name. And I'm...  _ guessing _ Soundwave is going to show up soon, at which point it's going to get crowded in that closet. Would you like to move somewhere else, Blackspark?"

"Hn. Prob'ly. But I gotta- baby," Blackspark purred, and slunk up a bit higher, gathering the sparkling to his belly properly. And also Sticks, Sticks was going to get cuddled. But mostly he was focused on the  _ baby _ , on tucking the little one against his lower chassis, optics locked on the little frame. 

The sparkling squeaked a few more times, increasingly loud and demanding, but quickly noticed the energon-blue glow from just under Blackspark's lower chassis plating. Crooning, they pushed their face in, nuzzling around until they found one of the little nubs, then latched on and sucked. 

Blackspark's whole frame shivered again, but in a much more pleasant manner, and he groaned quietly as his field gushed something warm and delighted. "Ahh, hi baby." 

"Hormones! Not good for thinking," Patches giggled, then shrugged, leaning against the wall slightly. "I suppose the closet will work. Hey- if Soundwave shows up, all of you try to be calm, don't want the bitlet picking up on any sort of fear. He's not going to hurt anyone. But... I think he's going to want to see a kid who's  _ definitely _ inherited a decent dose of his genetics. I wonder if you got anything else from him, little one? I wonder if you've even got a secondary processor in there."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/22/2018**

Sticks tensed a bit at being picked up  _ again _ today but settled where Blackspark put them. They sat upright in the crook of his arm and kept a sharp optic on the sparkling, "Wonder how many times I gotta say 'fuck' around him for that to be his first word," they laughed and reached over to stroke a servo gently down his back, a slight smile on their face, this was alright, "Figured big, purple, and pointy was gonna show up at some point. Surprised he hasn't shown up already, actually. Fine with me, we're basically best friends now," they chuckled a bit, "Dare I say he's not scary? Dare I say he's a... sentimental bastard?" They looked up to survey the size of the room, "Don't know how he's gonna fit in here but I imagine he'll figure it out."

Sticks turned to Patches, more serious now, putting on their first proper business face in who knows how long, "How's he healing? Did he reopen anything when I was out? Also, a relevant question now that everything's fine,  _ how long was I sleeping? _ "

##  **Betta132** **12/22/2018**

"...hnn? Oh- he's doing fine," Patches hummed, optics still on the first sparkling he'd seen in thousands of years, starting to look like he might cry soon. He was still speaking clearly, though. "He's staying around for now. And, ah- you're not quite wrong. He has the potential to be very scary! Believe me, he can be dangerous, that- that's no exaggeration. But... you're right. He's... I do like him. He's very smart. A good choice for genetics- let's hope this little one got some of his smarts," Patches cooed, then sniffled quietly and, gently, gathered Acus into his arms. "Oh, sweetie... is- is this all right? I need to hold something," he whispered, pushing his face lightly into Acus' helm. "Oh. Goodness. Emotions. Ah- you were out for a couple of days, Sticks. I did give you an IV earlier to be sure your fuel levels stayed up. Your self-repair was busy! I suspect a lot of things are going to feel a lot better now," he purred, backing out of the closet slightly to rock in place with Acus in his arms. 

Acus squeaked very softly at being gathered up, but didn't protest or resist. In fact, he snuggled into Patches' frame. It wasn't exactly professional, but... oh, what the Pit. He trusted Patches, and Patches wanted someone to hold, and Acus... oh. Acus was enjoying the hug, if he was being honest. He fit nicely into Patches' lap and arms, and this felt good.

Not at all surprisingly, Soundwave turned up after a few more moments. A bit cautiously, slinking through the door as if expecting something to jump at him, then speeding up as he spotted everyone. He still moved carefully, though, watching to be sure Blackspark's optics were on him. He'd been defensive with his newborn symbiotes, and this... well. A sparkling was even more helpless, and a much larger toll on the frame. Still, he crept over to the closet, peering around Patches, and crouched just barely inside the door. There was... hm. Room for him to fit, if he curled up around Blackspark and shoved some things out of the way, but that might not be welcome. With that in mind, he stayed right up next to the closet, and, ignoring everyone else, churred gently to the bounty hunter. 

"Ah, hey, spook," Blackspark crooned, field flickering invitingly, and shifted just a fraction to show the cables bundled up in one servo. "Look- yer genetics took! Hope 'e got your smart. Or your audials. Or all that. C'mere, handsome, ya li'l skinny thing."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/22/2018**

Couple days, huh? Sticks frowned slightly. Not a  _ month _ at least but still not ideal. All things considered once they got time it would be a good idea to do a self exam- well, as well as they could. There were more important things to attend to, though, such as the pleasure-drunk postpartum bot who was keeping them as a willing kind of hostage, or the happy spymaster poised to enter through the closet doorway. 

First things first, "Speaking of fuel-" they rummaged around in subspace for a moment and pulled out a single energon cube, hadn't managed to restock before they'd fallen asleep, then. They turned it over in their servo and placed it delicately on Blackspark's upper chassis. Seemed legit, right? Based on the amount of effort his frame would be going through fixing everything that ripped- and they still couldn't forget the hole where stomach-cabling should have been- some energon wouldn't hurt, "You really earned that one," their voice was soft as they spoke, trying not to interrupt Soundwave's moment. Clearly Patches was having a moment too, they thought as they glanced over to where the mech stood, Acus in his arms. They looked away almost immediately as they felt something small bloom in their chassis, too many emotions. Their frame really didn't know what to feel, between the cuddly warmth coming from Blackspark, Patches's unhindered joy, and now even less-than-vague fondness coming from Soundwave, their sleep-slowed processor couldn't keep up post dull crisis-mode anxiety. 

So they did what they could. Sticks observed from up close, looking for places they could help, watching intently, alert, ready to act when the first need arose, and kept petting the sparkling -at least he didn't seem to mind.

##  **Betta132** **12/22/2018**

Soundwave hesitated for a moment longer, helm cocked, then decided to completely set aside his usual efforts at maintaining a certain appearance. Lifting his voice higher in a long, soft trill, he squeezed his way into the closet, displacing a few pillows, and curled around Blackspark's frame. There was room. It wasn't the biggest closet, but it had room. Besides- someone was listening to him. 

The sparkling lifted their little helm, blinking a few times, audials pricking clumsily as they turned towards Soundwave. A moment of silence, then they beeped rather loudly, wriggled a bit, and gave a shaky, rather rusty trill, fluctuating in nearly the same places as Soundwave's. Soundwave repeated the sound, and the sparkling followed, still not quite right but  _ trying _ .

"Ohh, that's... that's always  _ precious _ ," Patches crooned, rocking slightly in place with Acus still in his arms. "Sparklings mimic- it's how they learn. This young, they respond almost entirely to noises they heard while still being carried. They remember you, Soundwave. The little one knows your voice. Blackspark- here, trade?" he offered, holding Acus out slightly in Blackspark's direction. "Sticks, would you like to come out of the closet? I can show you your gestation tank, if you'd like. It won't hurt- I can just exploit those same seams that open up now. It might make this look... a bit less alarming to you. I promise it's not harmful! All that's damaged is a membrane that was meant to give way. Some wires and tubing are in the tank, and will be reabsorbed now that the sparkling isn't attached. The only thing his self-repair really needs to do, though, is seal up that slit. Blackspark- they're right. You should drink. And would you like to take Acus? He'd like a better look, I suspect, and Sticks might need some time to think."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/22/2018**

Sticks sat up quickly and nodded at Patches, silently grateful for the out. They... weren't sure quite what they were getting into but they supposed they were due for an anatomy lesson. It's not like anyone on the sand planet got pregnant while there -far,  _ far _ to miserable and dangerous to even try. They'd seen everything there was to see in the frame, they were sure, had taken apart too many corpses to count, but... it's not like they'd seen everything  _ living. _ They leaned over to give the sparkling one more final pat on the helm, then another for Blackspark on his side and slowly stood up, careful not to spook the kid. As soon as Patches's servo was close enough, they jumped, only realizing halfway into the air what they'd done, and scrambled up his arm to sit on his shoulder. They cocked their helm and frowned once they settled down, considerably more confused than the first time. Why did they think that was a good idea? It had felt good to jump, they supposed, it felt right, but not in the social sense. It was just plain  _ weird. _ Gotta... gotta save this.

Sticks straightened up and looked down at the collection of people from their newfound height, "Blackspark don't be afraid to ask for more energon when you need it. News... is probably gonna spread pretty quick unless Soundwave wasn't seen getting here so you might have quite a few visitors coming around. If it gets too much just say so and I, personally, will push them out." They smiled a bit, imagining people coming to visit the closet. It was a pretty big occasion, huh, first sparkling on the ship, first sparkling in a  _ while, _ "Might have to put up a plaque on that closet or something."

At last done with their saving face address, they pushed themself off Patches's frame and landed on the floor, remembering to roll this time to minimize damage. They were feeling... strange, much more bouncy. Their frame wanted to  _ move. _  Looks like something in that spark donation took, either that or sleeping for so long had given them an absurd amount of energy. They couldn't say. They looked up to Patches and whispered, "you gonna be alright? Seems like a lot for you."

 

Acus gladly went from Patches to Blackspark, thoroughly happy with the opportunity to get closer to the baby, unafraid of the others in the closet. Blackspark was trustworthy, had literally killed for him, and Soundwave- well, Soundwave could have killed him, but so could most people. He was... something like trustworthy. And, whatever Acus might think or not think about Soundwave, he was safe. Soundwave was  _ fascinated _ , not angry, and Blackspark was sharp-edged enough to fend off any potential attacks. With that in mind, he settled against Blakspark's frame, careful not to squish anything, and oh-so-carefully reached to touch. A moment of hesitation, optics flicking to Blackspark for approval, and he only reached to pet tiny audial fins when Blackspark nodded slightly. So  _ small _ !

Patches made a little "oh!" noise at being climbed, but didn't protest in the slightest. "Oh, goodness," he sighed, optics soft, watching the quiet scene for a moment longer, then turned his attention to Sticks. "It's just... oh, it's been so  _ long _ since I've seen a little one. Since supplies started running low all over the planet. Just... just people who wanted to get, or update, pregnancy prevention measures. Understandable, of course! Sensible. I-I have some myself. But that's, oh... something is so, so very wrong among a species when no one is having children. I'm- I"m fine, this is good crying," he explained, a bit muffled as he wiped at his optics with a forearm again, then sighed and pulled himself together slightly. "I'm fine! I'm just having some emotions. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with carrier-field like this, it- it can have an affect on you, and I've lost my immunity. Ohh, goodness. Anyway- let me see you? I can just... like this."

Crouching so as not to loom, he lightly petted Sticks' sides for a few strokes, then rubbed at their stomach with one thumb until he found the right spot. A specific path through the cables. A soft press, then slightly firmer, and he began to gently ease the cables apart. As if he was spreading cables for a procedure, except that the cables  _ stuck _ slightly and didn't shift back as he moved his servos. Long, slow, gentle strokes, easing them apart, and he easily enough found Sticks' gestation tank. Low in their frame, very small, not even the size of their fist. "There we are! It's inactive right now, of course, which makes the anatomy harder to see, but... can you see, right here, this thin little line down the front? This area spreads, and thins out into the membrane that tore earlier. There has to be a membrane- keeps the liquid in. Disconcerting to break, but... harmless. Now- watch," he prompted, and let go of Sticks' frame. The cables slid back into place, but very slowly, leaving that gash-like appearance in place for several moments.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/23/2018**

Sticks frowned and pulled the cables back a bit to run a finger along the seam. That was, well it was definitely  _ there. _ There was still something... deeply unsettling about it tearing but evidently it was meant to do that, "Right okay it's logical, it makes sense. Didn't want to say this where Blackspark could hear but I think I've dealt with one too many  _ awful _ parasites to ever come into something like this with an open mind." They busied themself with smoothing out their stomach cables, course they'd act like that when under tension for so long, that was a stupid thing to worry about. Their mind was a great deal more scattered than they'd wanted it to be and part of the confusion was exactly  _ why. _ The biggest question was what could they do to fix it. Now that the whole miracle of birth mystery was settled to some degree, the next question became, "Patches what- did anything I should know about happen while I was out-asleep? Er-um, let me preface this, the last time I was out for more than regular recharge schedule-"  _ it lasted a month _ "-A lot of  _ bad _ slag went down- it was a mess. So-did- is everyone okay?" It occurred to them Forceps wasn't there, not normally a problem... unless they were somewhere in one of the side rooms in a coma- and what about the rest of the Choir what if they were- 

Sticks rubbed their forehelm, this was not helping, nor was it a logical place to jump to. They took a deep breath and frowned again, they felt phenomenally strange, filled with a kind of anxiety-tinged energy that didn't go away no matter what they tried to do and then on top of that was the emotions they'd been picking up from the room seemed to be just waiting to come to the foreground in some monumental wave. They took another deep breath, "Sorry I'm so scattered, Patches. Frame's giving me a  _ lot _ of weird signals which I'm sure are actually fine and normal for the first time in eons. But-right, is there anything I can do to prep for things? Clean up?"

##  **Betta132** **12/23/2018**

"Oof, that would do it," Patches winced, then hummed reassuringly and stepped away slightly, back towards somewhere a bit more private. "And, yes, everyone is all right. Scalpel and Forceps are helping with the atmosphere generator, something about plumbing in some additional filters. I haven't told them about this yet, they don't need to be bothered and this wasn't exactly an all-hands-on-deck situation. They should be done relatively soon. Uh- the only injuries I can think of are... let me see. A few minor sprains and joint strains from an off-ship excursion where a lot of people tried climbing things, mostly. Doom stepped off the edge of a cliff by mistake, but he's fine. And... someone who was too embarrassed to name came in with, uh, one of those knot-base dildos lodged down their throat. They were fine! Just a bit overenthusiastic. So, you know- the usual. Forceps put you in your room after the movie because you were asleep, and we've just been keeping half an optic on you." 

Field still quiet and soothing but not as strong, he led Sticks off to the soft room again. It was the closest place he could think of that might not shortly be needed for Blackspark and company. Opening the door, he pointed to the couch with a firm "sit!", then walked over and sat next to Sticks. A comfortable distance away, though, so as not to indent the couch too deep right next to Sticks. He was heavy. "And, no, I don't want you cleaning right now. You need to take a few deep breaths, and you need to figure yourself out again. Tell me some of those signals- I can help you figure them out. First off, does anything hurt? Ache beyond a little stiffness from not moving?"

##  **Malusdraco** **12/23/2018**

Sticks listened carefully, leaning their face into steepled fingers. A bit of a grin pulled at their mouth at the mention of the dildo incident, poor bot. They shifted their seat a bit to absentmindedly jog their leg and sighed, grateful relief slowly dripping into their field. Everyone was safe, everything was okay. They took a deep in-vent and let it out slowly, "no, nothing hurts. I'll definitely need a stretch but that's to be expected. It feels like whenever I try to calm down I just... can't. Everything wants to move at once and it's...  _ fucking _ confusing. I don't think I've ever had this much energy, even before the war. I-" they paused when they finally noticed their leg and frowned again, "It might even be affecting my senses, too? Unless things just got a bit brighter and louder-And I can't tell what's just my frame doing the things it should be now that my spark's not two steps away from going out anymore, and what's some kinda anxious response cause I have no idea what the fuck is going on with my frame as well as several other things which are now solved." 

That said, they were beginning to feel a little better, they started laughing a bit until-dear Primus here came those emotions, "And- and on top of that we've got the sparkling now, and he's okay. All this monitoring, all this careful work, all the things that could have gone wrong and he's  _ okay. _ " Sticks was gently crying now, laughs mingling with sobs, "I... I didn't expect to see something like this after leaving Cybertron- so much  _ fucking _ death. But there's  _ hope _ now, and it's him." They wiped at their optics with their servos, that the kid had crawled over to them first meant something too, and a new wave of tears came. They groaned through hiccuping laughs, "Fuck that's one  _ Pit _ of a mood swing."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/23/2018**

"Oh, sweetie- come here, it's all right," Patches cooed, and scooted a bit closer to Sticks, putting an arm around them to give them a good squeeze. "Oh... it's okay, cry it out. Your frame's probably going to feel a bit odd for a little while. The scans I've been taking show that your frame has integrated the donated energy properly, but it's going to take you a little while to get used to your spark actually having a decent level of energy. If you have a lot of energy, well- how about we find some things you can do? Tire yourself out and see how you feel. Just... let all those emotions work themselves out, okay? You might be a bit more emotional than usual while your frame adjusts. Ohh, goodness, we might  _ both _ need a good cry," he giggled, hiccuping slightly, and gave Sticks a gentle squeeze. "I gotcha. Nobody's dying or anything, Acus is in the medbay- we can cry out here some before we have to do anything responsible. It's- it's a very good room for crying in!" 

Tucking himself up slightly, he giggled and sobbed in the same noise, field quivering softly with something soft, warm, and delighted. It had been so, so  _ long _ since he'd seen a sparkling, and this little one was  _ healthy _ , perfectly so, was as safe as any of them, was going to grow up surrounded by loving caretakers, was-  _ ohh _ ! He definitely had some emotions to cry about, but they were all very good emotions. Albeit with a hint of sorrow at everything and  _ everyone _ that had been lost. Ohh, goodness.

.

After a little while, something in the medbay shrieked alarmingly, the high, keening, vibrating wail of a furious Insecticon, and Patches jolted in surprise and immediately accessed the medbay security feed, prodding it at Sticks at the same time so they could see as well. That showed a red-and-white mech backing away from the medbay closet, where Soundwave was crouched over Blackspark, armor flared, visor flashing angrily at the interloper. Evidently Five-Alarm had done something that Soundwave didn't like, and Soundwave had made his displeasure extremely clear. The sparkling squealed in alarm for a moment, frightened by the loud noise, but settled quickly back against Blackspark as his carrier stroked his audials. He'd been startled by the noise, was all, he was fine. 

Five-Alarm backed away further, suitably deterred, and turned towards the soft room- revealing that, for some reason, he was holding an axe in one servo. Steps increasingly unsteady, he practically staggered over to the room, walked inside, and blinked as he looked down at the bots on the couch. "Blackspark has a sparkling and Soundwave appears to be protecting him, we really shouldn't let them do that in the closet," he declared, then limped over to a corner, pressed his back into it, clutched the axe in both servos, and promptly fell asleep. 

 

"Oh, goodness. That's Five-Alarm, and he's... his frame is dealing with even more nonsense than yours," Patches sighed, watching him, and definitely did not even think about going over there. "Don't... don't get anywhere near him. He has some paranoia issues. Hence the axe. He'll wake up in a few minutes, probably. Have you met him?"(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/23/2018**

Sticks stood up to look over the edge of the couch, armor flaring indignantly. A kind of instinctual bubbling anger seeped into their field, they took a deep breath and tried to control it. Now's not the time for anger, anger doesn't help anything, least of all strangers dealing with frame issues as bad as randomly dropping off to sleep. They managed to get themself to simmer and stuck their chin in their servos to watch and wait for him to wake up. 

"I've seen him around," Sticks said, voice low, "gave up trying to introduce myself to him after the third time of just being ignored." It hurt to think about again, being small and unassuming made them so desperately lonely at the archive, to think that slag traveled through the war. "You think we'd be done with petty things like ignoring small bots after countless years of war but evidently not-  _ fucking _ aft," their mumble turned into a low growl, unable to really stow their anger. It'd been a while since they were truly angry but by Primus they were close now. They weren't exactly an angry bot, but it wasn't impossible, especially if you were a serial aft who just threatened a baby with an axe. It was an unfortunate time to meet, for Five-Alarm that is.

Sticks puffed angrily and turned from their perch to look at Patches, "Should say how much I appreciate you for not ignoring me like so many others. Now," they turned back to Five-Alarm to continue their watch, "who the  _ fuck _ decided it would be a good idea to let someone with an axe prowl around the medbay? And-ah," their expression changed a bit to one of calculating worry as they whipped around to look at the monitor, "Did he do anything? You see any damage from the security feed?"

##  **Betta132** **12/23/2018**

Patches listened for a moment longer, to several decreasingly loud squalls of disapproval, and giggled quietly as he glanced back to the medbay. "Oh, that's... he's all right now, that's the noise sparklings make when they're sulking at being spooked. He'll forget about this in half a klik. Sparklings that young don't care about much as long as it doesn't continue," he explained, then, winglets up slightly, listened and let Sticks rant. They probably needed it. "And you're quite right, that attitude is ridiculous. But... I don't think it's the case here. See- Alarm has a less than fortunate mental situation. He doesn't tend to notice when people are trying to talk to him- I think he might have managed to forget that people might want to interact with him. Well... that, and he's rather prone to hallucinations, still. Not so bad any more, but there's a chance he didn't realize you were  _ real _ . As for the rest... watch him."

Alarm twitched slightly as he slept, face tensed and optic lids fluttering noticeably, armor flared and winglets smushed uncomfortably against the wall. A wave of tension ran through his frame, his helm lifted slightly as if greeting something, and his arms started to come up, then the tension bled out and he went nearly limp for a moment before tensing again.

Patches sighed quietly, watching Alarm squirm, and shook his helm. "Paranoia issues. But, see the colors? He's a medic. He's not practicing now because he's... not in great shape for that, not right now, but he  _ is _ definitely allowed into the medbay. He wasn't going to hurt anyone! He just... it scares him to fall asleep like this. He spent far too long in situations where him falling asleep could potentially mean death for him or for someone else. He was...  _ massively _ overworked during the war, every medic was, but Alarm was worked beyond what anyone could  _ do _ . Ended up keeping himself hyped up on stimulants just about constantly to manage it. And  _ then _ he wound up on a moon base, everyone else dead, trying to maintain systems that should have had at least five people handling them. The hallucinations are partly from the drugs, which he is no longer on, and partly from stress. Doesn't help that his systems are still desperate for rest- and this, mind you, is after we kept him sedated for nearly a week to let the drugs burn out of his systems. He probably intended to do this in the closet." 

Giving Sticks another light squeeze and then leaning back against the couch, he sighed again, optics still on Alarm. "Look at him. He's not violent, he's just... a fairly cranky bundle of anxiety, who isn't able to convince himself that he's safe here, who periodically  _ passes out _ wherever he happens to be at the time. It's no wonder he wedges himself into a corner with some sort of weapon. Give him a klik."

Soon enough, Alarm's optics flickered back online and he lifted his helm for good, subspacing the axe. A long stare at Patches, who still had an arm around Sticks, then he leaned out from the corner slightly. "Hn. You  _ are _ real, then," he grumbled, optics dimming slightly, and slowly pushed himself up to his pedes. "Stop  _ staring _ ."

December 24, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

"Course I am, despite what people seem to think.  _ Bitch, _ " Sticks growled, anger not going away as was about standard for today, "You know how fucking much it took to get people to notice me?- To take  _ me _ seriously? Had to start saving lives." Thaaaaat was possibly revealing a bit too much. Sticks shook their head, what a stupid thing to be mad about. They stepped their tone back a bit, "fuckssake mech you could have at least  _ nodded _ or something. I tried being nice to you, but... but I've run out of nice at the moment." 

In a fit of spur-of-the-moment indignation, Sticks vaulted over the side of the couch and walked towards Five-Alarm, "Now that I've finally proven to you I'm real, I'm going to do this  _ one more time _ so you better listen well. I am Sticks of Exolus-3. I am a medic-in-training.  _ I work here. _ And I do not like being ignored. It is with the greatest displeasure that I do this for the  _ fourth time. _ " They walked up close to Five-Alarm and extended their servo, looking into his optics, their own bright, determined, their field shining  _ greetings/anger/I AM HERE. _ A very small voice in the back of their helm was screaming at the lack of proper introduction etiquette, but clearly that hadn't worked the times they'd tried it before.

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

Five-Alarm blinked a couple of times, then huffed lightly, almost smiled, and took Sticks' servo. He usually didn't, but, heh. Fuck it. "Five-Alarm. I don't acknowledge my hallucinations in public any more. I don't think it will increase people's opinion of me if they see me telling thin air to fuck off. Trying to seem less... unhinged." 

Alarm's servo fit all the way around Sticks', to the point where his fingertips were against their wrists, and he rather quickly noticed the welds. They were healing well, he noted, unlikely to scar more than what could easily be smoothed and properly painted over, but... still present. Hm. Empuratee repair? Lifting his helm slightly, he stared Sticks in the face, checking for scars that would suggest the repair of their face, but saw... hm. Not quite the scars he was looking for. Something odd about their face. Possibly. Squinting a bit harder, he muttered "how much of that is real" and petted at Sticks' cheek in general, then across their nasal ridge, tracking what was and wasn't a hallucination. Most of it wasn't. His processor was just filling in bleeding energon where he expected to see bleeding. "Hm. You aren't bleeding. Good, that's just me. No helm trauma," a pause, lightly shifting Sticks' entire helm with one servo, "neck doesn't feel broken, don't sound impaired, don't sound starving, don't" and he kept going, servos fluttering lightly down Sticks' frame with experienced motions, at least until he could no longer reach. 

"Five-Alarm, they are FINE, stop groping the mech!" Patches complained from across the room, pulsing  _ reassurance/apology _ to Sticks. "Don't take it too personally, he's walked into Avalon twice and didn't realize Bracer was real when we first found him."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

Sticks almost pulled away when Alarm took their wrist but stayed put as he did his examination, with only a quiet mutter of "plenty of other trauma." Their anger was ebbing into something a little like annoyance,  _ bleeding? _ is that what they looked like to him? "Yeah, yeah, I know I look like slag, it's a work in progress alright. And-hey, some people are made ugly! My face's always been this way and don't you even try to judge me -I mean have you looked at yourself lately?" they looked Five-Alarm from scarred helm to splotchy pede, "Maybe between the two of us we could make a full paint job-  _ maybe. _ " Sticks sighed and mellowed their tone a bit more, "Is there anything else you need from me to prove I'm not a hallucination. I assure you I'm- well I'm not in  _ perfect _ health per se, but I'm not injured in any way. Actually- hold that thought. Could an injured person do  _ this? _ "

Sticks stepped back a bit, indulging their need to move. A few slow arm movements to get the motion down and they jumped slightly to perform a fast, tight flip midair, landing on their pedes with an energetic hop. Their first successful attempt at a standing flip pushed surprise onto their face, which was turned to solid confidence within a moment, "Not only am I real, I'm fine. A better question is,  _ why the fuck _ were you walking around the medbay with an axe out? You can't expect people not to react when the mech who refuses to talk to anyone pulls out a weapon in a medbay."

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

"I can  _ touch _ you. I would need to be in a much worse state to experience tactile hallucinations of this strength. Clearly you exist," Alarm deadpanned, watching Sticks do... whatever that was, and cocked his helm slightly as the bleeding faded away. Good. Still, he was feeling rather annoyed. "I'm not sure why you're criticising the logic of my hallucinations. I don't control them. Nor do I control my own  _ stress responses _ , thank you, or how much I scar. And that... activity proves nothing. Hallucinations can also move, adrenaline is a powerful motivator, and some bots have been foolish enough to disable their own pain sensors."

The floor wasn't comfortable, so Alarm walked over to a chair instead, flopping down into it and sitting slightly askew to take pressure off his winglets. "And I didn't pull it out in the medbay. I pulled it out earlier in the event that I couldn't make it to the medbay before needing to find somewhere to immediately crash. I am not going to sleep in public, on a ship full of strangers, with no way of ensuring that they leave me alone. I was  _ intending _ to sleep in the closet, but it is occupied, and  _ why _ is Soundwave allowed in the medbay, next to a sparkling?" he complained softly, bouncing one leg in a nervous gesture, servos kneading harshly on the arms of the chair. He didn't exactly look pleased. Mostly he was just... tense. Worried. Exhausted. "You can't expect me to sleep unarmed near  _ him _ . He's dangerous. Can't expect me to sleep with him on the ship. I need to  _ sleep _ and I  _ can't _ , it's not  _ safe _ , why is  _ he _ allowed here?" 

"I keep telling you, Alarm... you need to find someone to sleep next to. It'll help, I promise. We're an intensely social species and you've been isolated too long, you need social interaction and  _ rest _ ," Patches crooned gently, soft and coaxing, nowhere near accusing. "Please? You're going to start  _ collapsing _ at this point. People's frames aren't supposed to abruptly make them fall asleep wherever they are. That's a cry for help, for  _ rest _ , and we both know it!"(edited)


	15. Chapter 15

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

Sticks followed where Five-Alarm sat but kept standing, jogging in place a bit. Their head seemed to clear as they started to expend some of their energy. Of course they didn't like being the one idiot in the room looking like they were about to sprint but they liked the gift of not being nearly as emotional a great deal more, " _ that _ explains it. I agree, the closet is a bad place for a birth but there's not much to do now. Soundwave's one of the kid's sires and he was pretty badly injured..." they squinted and hopped a little at the same time, "four? days back. I'd say that gives him enough reason to be here. Plus he doesn't seem to want to disturb the peace. What I don't understand is why you don't find an empty room, barricade the door, and then sleep. It's not like Soundwave could just tear apart walls- not that he would." an idea courtesy of Scalpel, though they'd neglect mentioning her uncanny ability to climb through vents, in case Alarm got any ideas, "B-but Patches is right, you shouldn't need to do that." they sighed, oversharing time, "speaking as someone with some nasty sleep problems, sleeping with someone else is a really big help- actually the only way I can guarantee I'll go through a full cycle."

Sticks began to stretch in earnest, bringing their arms up over their helm, touching the tips of their pedes, "I'd volunteer but I don't think I could sleep right now even if I wanted to." They paused, finishing their stretches, what if- They leaned down, put both servos on the floor and pushed up into a handstand. There was an audible  _ click _ as the fans in their helm fluttered on. They waited for a couple moments as their frame stabilized and then slowly lifted an arm. The fans got considerably louder. They turned around to face the two bots with some awkward arm-hops, wincing each time as they pushed themself back up, they were just  _ barely _ strong enough for this. They could hold it for a few minutes at least. They grinned at Patches and Alarm through gritted dentae, "promise I'm not doing this to show off, it occurred to me balance drivers take a lot of energy, so now I can talk without bouncing around like an idiot," they carefully switched arms, "though I don't know for how long."

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

"People on this ship have saws, and certain things can chew through any given door, it's  _ never _ safe, and you look fucking ridiculous. You're going to damage whatever was just done to your arms. Stand on something small and balance-worthy," Alarm suggested, then shifted slightly, glaring rather hard, as Patches approached him. "What are you  _ doing _ ." 

"Don't sledgehammer me, I'm not hurting you," Patches soothed, and promptly climbed into Alarm's lap, ignoring his angry armor-flaring. "Hush. I'm not hurting you. You at least moderately trust me, and you're too awake for me to do anything. Hush, cranky," he ordered, softly, and glanced over his shoulder at Sticks. "He's not entirely wrong, I'm not sure I'd suggest doing that to your wrists right now. Good idea, though! Grab me some of those blankets?" 

Alarm sputtered furiously, pushing at Patches' frame for a moment, but didn't actually  _ dislodge _ him. Not quite permission, not visibly, but given Alarm's strength, that was probably at least acceptance. A bit more sputtering, angrily shoving at Patches' frame in general, but Patches clung on until Alarm stopped moving and just settled in to glare. "Oh, fuck  _ off _ , you little... overly sweet  _ fool _ . Someone is going to shank you if you keep doing this. Get  _ off _ me. I don't need to be  _ coddled _ , I am fully capable of dealing with my own slag, now get  _ off _ -" 

"Hush. If you really wanted me off, I'd be off. You aren't handling yourself at  _ all _ , and, yes, someone  _ has _ already stabbed me! But I'm too heavily armored," he explained, hugging Alarm a bit tighter. "Hush. Don't make me drag you somewhere more contailed. If you're actively hallucinating that  _ actual people _ are bleeding, we have an  _ issue _ . Sticks- you wanna come over here?" he asked, shifting slightly in Alarm's lap, still thoroughly un-dislodged despite the fact that Alarm was more than strong enough to  _ throw _ him if he'd been pushing too far.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

"Ah. That's the reason I'd... never done this," Sticks said, looking considerably more concerned than an unhurt bot normally might. They quickly but gently let their legs down and crouched for a bit, optics nervously scanning their wrists, tracing along the weld marks to see if anything was damaged or strained. Their nervous mutterings of "stupid. that was  _ stupid. _ that was  _ really really _ stupid" were too loud to be kept all to themself. Their helm fans turned off after a few moments and after a few moments more they stood up shakily and walked toward the chair. 

Up close their face looked as if it was close to tears. Sticks stood for a few kliks, trying to figure out what the best way up was. They definitely intended to take Patches's offer, whether they'd do it out of pure spite or a need for comfort was, apparently, not up to them. With a careful sigh they climbed up and nestled snugly between the two mechs. Their frame was trembling and their servos even moreso as they gave them another nervous look-over. There was nothing wrong, everything was fine, it was okay. They tried to convince themself to calm down but their mind was moving too fast, "I need to burn off this energy, this mood swing business is just  _ embarrassing, _ " their voice wavered, an odd combination of obviously-bothered and aware, "Patches you don't happen to have a slag-load of data I can sort and process until my helm explodes, do you?"

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

"Oh, sweetie, come here," Patches soothed, and gave Sticks a firm squeeze with one arm, even nuzzling into their forehelm slightly. "You're all right- breathe. My suggestions would be more active, and, given your emotional state... something enjoyable. Hm. I'm actually inclined to suggest that you go and, well. Seduce someone. Forceps is possibly still busy, but I'm sure they'd be at least somewhat interested. You could occupy the nearest closet. Or, hm- you could see what your options are in general. Not sure who might be interested, but, hm... Focus is  _ pretty _ , you could try him. I don't know what he likes," he mused, winglets cocked slightly askew. "Or, hm. Who else?" 

"This is thoroughly inappropriate," Alarm complained, but very softly, pawing irritably at Patches' frame for a moment before going still. When he stopped moving, well. If his arms were draped around Patches' frame, that meant nothing. It didn't mean he needed this, he'd just... ended up with his servos there. Because he was tired and Patches was here. Not at  _ all _ because he was starting to enjoy this. Patches was... just... here. Warm. Stupid little sweet thing. Just. Holding him. He really should have MINDED that Patches had climbed into his lap and refused to budge. And he did! He... definitely did. Just... not  _ quite _ enough to... shove Patches onto the floor. He was trying to help. That'd be rude.

Right. Yes. He was tolerating this because it would be rude otherwise. Because  _ that _ was believable.

 

Sticks put their helm in their servos and sighed, still a quite tingly from the rush of 'oh fuck' energy still clinging to their system. Patches was right, they could use a good frag- less dangerous than trying to direct all of their spare energy to their processor and risking heat stroke. They dragged their fingers down their face and paused as they fell off the edge of their chin. They looked down, curling their fingers in and gently pushing their servos into the area under their chin. It was still an odd position for them, something they'd need to get used to but when Forceps did it, it made them feel better. 

It was probably time to contact them, then. Sticks'd held off until they knew they wouldn't be bothering them but now they had an excuse. Was it a good excuse? Possibly. They... really just missed them,  _.:Babe? Songbird? When do you think you'll be finished up:. _

When Sticks finally felt the crawling doom feeling start to subside, they looked to Patches and noticed Five-Alarm's arm slung over him. Well that was  _ friendly. _ He really did need positive contact- probably more than they did. They leaned back into Alarm's chassis, keeping their servos carefully where they were, "Forceps is really kinda... it for me. I have no idea how I'd try to proposition someone. Think I'm a bit too small and ugly for that. I've heard Focus is notoriously picky anyway- though he  _ is _ pretty," they turned a mischievous optic in Five-Alarm's direction, "Alarm might have better luck, though."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

Focus didn't pause what they were doing, too busy cleaning the oil and grime from their servos, but- Sticks! No way they weren't going to respond to Sticks.  _.:You're awake. I'm finished now, give me a few kliks to clean up and I can be there. Are you all right, ember? Does anything hurt?:. _

Sticks was probably fine, they knew, but  _ still _ . Their -lover? partner?- had been asleep for days, and, Primus, that was concerning. 

"Oh, you stop that! You're cute, and your size has nothing to do with this," Patches scolded gently, reaching over to bap Sticks lightly on the helm. Very lightly. "Focus is... a bit of an aft at times, but not a bigot. And, from what I've heard of him, it's not that he's  _ picky _ so much as extremely fed up. Seeker fetishists and people whose only concern is their own pleasure and not his. If I were going to hit on him, I'd, hm... I think I'd just walk up to him, call him pretty, and offer to eat him out. He'd probably like the straightforwardness," he shrugged, leaning gently against Alarm's frame. "Normally I'd suggest Blackspark to hit on, he's... well, he's  _ active _ . Prone to interfacing with people out of curiosity or anticipation of pleasure rather than actual attraction- he has a list of organic species he's been with. Including some very strange-looking ones. But he's... probably a bit sore at the moment, and  _ very _ occupied. Or, let me see... I'm not sure what Sharpshot likes, but if you'd prefer someone more your size, he's here. Albeit a bit odd-looking with the, you know," a slight gesture at his own face "optic setup."

Alarm scoffed, making another half-sparked effort at pushing Patches away, not for any real reason. "Focus- the Seeker with all the gold? Please. Last time I got anywhere near him, he looked at me like he was watching two Insecticons mount the corpse of a third. Evidently, whatever his type is, I am not it. I'm not currently  _ anyone's _ type. Except possibly necrophiliacs. Is this... business with you in my lap... are you hitting on me? It's... unclear, if so," he muttered, optics dimming slightly, squirming a bit, then went just about limp against the chair. "Stop this. Get- get off me. This is ridiculous."

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

Sticks leaned forward a bit at Forceps's response, mood shifting again, pouring out into their field like a giddy golden ambrosia of  _ love/appreciation/passion. _ The discussion bled into the background  _.:No, nothing hurts. I've got a lot more energy now than I think my frame really knows what to do with. Which is... leading to some interesting problems. Nothing really worrying but... they do need solving. You think you'll have some time when you get back to uh... help me solve them?:. _ That was as good a proposition as they were gonna make. Another overwhelming wave of emotion washed over them, they didn't really mind it this time, though. They curled inward and felt a formidable blush bloom on their face,  _.:I love you Forceps:. _ They tried to infuse the message with every drop of peachy emotion they could, even if it was an inflection-less comm. 

And then they realized they'd just been blasting one of their bosses and an almost-stranger they'd been yelling at not 10 minutes ago with their hyped-up love field. Instinctively they drew their field in as close as it could go, which wouldn't help much considering they were sitting on both of them. They would have been mortified if they were not so otherwise distracted. They tried to piece together what they'd heard in between just how distracted they were. Something about Patches hitting on Alarm? They looked to Patches, he was normally this happy, or at least by what they'd seen of him, but perhaps not normally this assertive. Fuck it they could wingmech if necessary, "Y-you know you could be in worse servos, Alarm. I know Patches doesn't look like a mech who gets up to much but he's who everyone goes to. He knows every word of the fucking book." they chuckled a little bit at their own joke, a little too bright and bubbly to land quite as well as it could but they'd work with what they were dealing with, "You should see his toy collection."

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

Alarm made a bit of a sputtering noise at being flooded in  _ emotions _ , optics going rather wide, and gave Patches one, last, ineffectual shove. "Stop being  _ emotive _ in my  _ lap _ ! And, no, I do  _ not _ want to fuck  _ you _ , what do I look like, a stuffed animal fetishist? Get off me." 

Patches paused, then giggled softly, optics soft and friendly. "Oh- no, that was meant to be advice for  _ you _ , hitting on Focus. This isn't how I hit on people. And, for the record- I don't usually climb on people who don't want to be climbed on. But, uh... Alarm here is a very strong bot. He could throw me across the room if he wanted. There is absolutely nothing stopping him from at least dislodging me, except that he might not want me to leave. He's just fussing. Hush, sweetie, you're fine. I'm not hurting you. Shush. You  _ are _ welcome to my toy collection if you want it, though." 

Judging by the angry sputtering, Alarm did not appreciate being called out, did not want Patches' toys, or both.

_.:Yes, your frame is likely going to be adjusting for some time. A normal consequence of such things as modifying one's spark. Now, what do you need help w- is that a proposition?:. _

A pause to ponder the... everything, then, Primus, did Sticks still expect coherent responses out of them after saying things like that? There were no answers for a moment, then Forceps sent a simple glyph over- essentially 'on my way'. Hopefully they'd have some manner of vocal communication back by the time they got there.

"Really, though, sweetie, go and do something about all this energy!" Patches scolded gently, ignoring the comment about stuffed animals, and patted Sticks' shoulder. "You're welcome to borrow a toy or two, or whatever else you need. I don't want you this uncomfortable! Just let me know if I can help with anyth- ah, not intended as a proposition," he amended, then blinked, thought for a moment, shrugged, and offered Sticks a little grin. "Actually? If the idea doesn't make you uncomfortable, you are welcome to interpret that as a proposition." 

Was that appropriate, given that Sticks was sort of his subordinate? Hm, not really, no. But, then, neither was Sticks and Forceps being involved. It seemed to be working out okay. And he knew his own responses to people, he knew that his treatment of people didn't tend to vary depending on whether he'd interfaced with them.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/24/2018**

Sticks wiggled a little bit and jumped off the chair, "I'm about to! I've just rendered Forceps speechless through comms so you know it's a good sign." They jog-jumped in place, as their overwhelming love mixed with bright excitement, they probably looked strange, standing upright, arms pinned to their frame, servos clenching and unclenching underneath their jaw but they couldn't care, "Don't take it personally, Patches, but my list of people I wanna fuck is one person long. I appreciate the offer though." They turned and looked at Five-Alarm, "You're gonna have an astronomically easier time the nanoklik you accept that you need exactly what everyone else does. You gotta admit to yourself at least that it feels good. Hopefully next time we talk I'll be more myself, and you'll feel a bit better too, please- please don't ignore me."

With that they turned around and scampered out of the room. Once in the medbay proper, they began a waiting game, quickly pacing back and forth in the clearest spot. Every three steps or so they'd jump with a sizable ping of  _ glee. _ They began to wind their pacing closer towards Blackspark's closet -it might as well have been his now, at least. Eventually they got close enough to peer in at the motley group inside. They kept pacing back and forth in front of the door with a giddy smile pasted on their face a few times more before they paused and leaned their helm in, "Everything alright in here? Need more blankets or energon or bandages or anything? And Soundwave," they turned to him, "I didn't get to ask earlier, how are you healing? Anything rip or strain?"

##  **Betta132** **12/24/2018**

Blackspark had drained the cube and promptly fallen asleep, not too surprisingly. He was just lolled on the blankets, optics shut, looking disheveled but healthy as his new sparkling crawled around on top of him. Or, at least, attempted to, slightly hindered both by age and by one of Laserbeak's delicate little data-cables around his midsection like a leash. 

Soundwave had settled into place, curled around Blackspark's frame, with Laserbeak perched on his side to keep hold of the sparkling. Mostly because Blackspark was rather sharp-edged. He lifted his helm at Sticks' approach, but doesn't respond otherwise. Sticks was... oddly energetic, but definitely not a threat. A soft hum, and he slowly shifted to reveal the bandaged portions of his frame. Noticeably, he'd removed some of the bandaging and replaced the rest. He seemed fine- no visible stiffness, no indicator of pain, just a vague caution of movement as he settled back next to Blackspark. He was doing fine. Now... what was up with this little bot? There was a lot of... pacing and fidgeting and  _ jumping _ . Odd reaction to high-grade? It likely wasn't important, but it was mildly interesting. 

Forceps paused in the doorway to watch Sticks do... whatever that was, then walked up, glanced into the closet to see what exactly was of interest there, and did a subtle but definite double-take. Ah! Well then. That... definitely had their attention, Primus. Sticks being horny? Interesting, certainly, but hardly the first event of its kind in a few thousand years. This? Well. Crouching in front of the closet, they eyed the sparkling for a few moments, then glanced back at Sticks and signed with a distinct twinge of excitement.  _ "When did this happen?" _

December 25, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/25/2018**

Sticks bounced excitedly a little bit when Forceps drew close and crouched down next to them to lean in, "a little after I woke up." they spoke softly so as not to wake Blackspark, "Patches and Acus were supervising while I mostly just sat there, out of it." they tried to stifle a laugh, "just petting Blackspark's helm- like that'd do anything. But um- no complications, Blackspark's fine, the kid's healthy, though I gotta say it is a contender for the most disturbing experience where everything is fine the whole way through." They sat for a second, watching the sparkling with a distracted smile on their face. They carefully looped an arm around Forceps's elbow and shuffled even closer, "he's cute too." They paused for a few kliks, savoring Forceps's presence again. Before long their frame found it too little movement and began to jog their leg, "Probably shoulda told you earlier but I've been really scattered since I woke up. Trying to catch up from my time out of it. Patches has informed me all is well. As for today, nothing else happened after the lil guy came out except that Five-Alarm was walking around with an axe and... provoked Soundwave." they turned to Soundwave, "which wasn't his intention by the way. I spoke to him, he's got... issues. The axe was for defense, evidently. Though he's also a bit of an aft so I won't dissuade you from discouraging him further in the future."

Sticks sighed and relaxed slightly into Forceps's side. They spoke quietly, lifting their face towards the other's audial, "I'm to see you again, Forceps."

##  **Betta132** **12/25/2018**

Forceps had very little experience with anything even related to carriers, but their research (for precisely this purpose) gave them the knowledge to be aware that it was a bad plan to get too close right now. Didn't want to spook a sleeping carrier. Or Soundwave. So, much as they itched to investigate, they elected  _ not _ to do that. But... they couldn't quite resist reaching out to lightly caress the sparkling's cheek, just for a moment. Which prompted a soft squeak and a very clumsy attempt at grabbing him. It definitely didn't work, too clumsy, but, oh! Cute. Forceps smiled the tiniest bit, then turned away and stood up, servos flickering gently to get Sticks' attention.  _ "Also glad to see you. To my room, little fidgeting bot." _

They had to steer Sticks away from the closet before signing much else, they  _ knew _ Soundwave could understand this sort of sign and weren't terribly inclined to have him listening in on their flirting. They  _ would _ flirt now, though.  _ "What do you want to do? Squirmy today. Rather inclined to be slightly rough with you, if you'd like. Bend you over something, pin you in place. Thoughts?" _

They didn't want to hurt or upset Sticks, of course, but they was moving around a lot. When presented with the idea of interface, they found themself inclined to, hm... catch and restrain Sticks. They didn't look or feel so fragile any more, it wouldn't hurt anything to scuffle a bit. Maybe tie them up a bit. Mostly just hold them in place via sheer strength. They'd probably like that, after all.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/25/2018**

Sticks smiled at the suggestion, that  _ was _ an attractive idea, but first. They slowly wrapped their arms around Forceps's waist, pressing their forehelm into their chassis, and gently squeezed. It was a weird position. If they'd been away for the few days they'd been asleep, they would for sure miss Forceps more than they did. They had a feeling that time had passed but not enough to actually feel their absence, but their partner didn't have that luxury. They wondered what the mech got up to while they were asleep but they expected not much aside from working and worrying, judging by their resistance to doing anything more social than drinks among the medics. They didn't think the mech would ever admit to needing a hug, but they had a good feeling for it. They stayed in the embrace a few more kliks, then let go enough to pull their helm down and plant a quick kiss -that was for themself. 

With that Sticks could feel their frame shift into full-on fuck mode. They let their servo travel up to the back of Forceps's neck, "mmm that's a good idea, but I'm not sure how I'm gonna burn off this energy that way," they guided the other's helm down as if for another kiss but changed direction at the last moment and nestled their cheek next to theirs, whispering into their audial, "I think I just wanna fuckin  _ rail _ you."

Sticks leaned back a little, and let their free servo travel down to Forceps's to give it a gentle, teasing squeeze, "And I've got another idea," their servo traveled to the back of their neck to retrieve a plug, slowly pulling it out, tapping the end with their finger, "I think I wanna feel it too."

##  **Betta132** **12/25/2018**

Forceps accepted the hug, leaning slightly into Sticks, and tucked their chin over the smaller bot's helm. Primus, they were glad to see Sticks awake and happy. And, though they weren't about to admit it for fear of sounding like they'd been wanting to jump Sticks, the idea of interface was thoroughly tempting. Now, what were they going to do with Sticks? Perhaps- 

_ Oh _ . Forceps' optics gleamed, and they firmly steered Sticks the rest of the way into their room, shutting the door to be sure no one could intercept. A pause to lock the door, then they ex-vented hard and stepped away from Sticks, sawlets pricking up and flickering slightly. A pause, looking Sticks up and down with a glint in their optics, then they smirked and lifted their servos in a quick sign.  _ "Fine, then. Catch me first," _ they prompted, stepping away further, aiming the closest thing they could to a coy smile at Sticks. It looked almost  _ shy _ , but it was fairly coherent. 

The reason? Well- Sticks wanted to play rough. Forceps could do that, but not...  _ calmly _ . They couldn't just march over to the berth and bend over for Sticks, it didn't quite sit right with them. They'd rather make Sticks grab them. They probably could have escaped if they'd really been trying, they were stronger than Sticks, but they could play along for this.  _ "Come on- catch me." _

##  **Malusdraco** **12/25/2018**

Sticks grinned wildly, raising their eyebrow-ridges, a game, huh? Odds seemed a little stacked, considering Forceps's size and their own general lack of strength. They loosened their grip on the plug and let it spool back into their neck. They wondered how far Forceps would take this- how hard they'd make it. They'd been mentally preparing themself for a one-on-one fight since they'd learned the art of frame-hacking. While archivist hacking tournaments were done stationary, they'd had visions of grandeur, daydreams in the off hours when there was little work to do, where they took down a single opponent with a well-timed sensory assault delivered directly through their data port- course it all hinged on knowing where the enemy's port was, which was almost always a dealbreaker. But they knew where Forceps's port was, they'd known since day one, which made the transfer cable nestled in the back of their neck the closest thing they had to a weapon. If this was going to be anything close to a fight, they couldn't stand bringing anything close to a weapon.

Sticks took a few steps forward and bent over to swipe at Forceps's waist, "you gonna make this difficult, babe?"(edited)

##  **Betta132** **12/25/2018**

Forceps stepped nimbly out of the way, servos flicking again in " _ just for show- no real fight" _ as a bit of reassurance, and kept dancing backwards as Sticks tried to get at them. Optics bright, they kept tantalizingly out of reach for several more moments,  _ just _ past Sticks' grip, sawlets up and quivering playfully. It was almost like the sort of playful sparring they saw occasionally- no purpose whatsoever aside from playing with each other. This, well. This had a much sexier ending, hopefully. 

They were starting to get much more turned on than they'd expected, though. The sheer anticipation of what Sticks was going to  _ do _ to them was much more tempting than they'd expected, and their plan to tease Sticks much further was cut short. Therefore, they slowed down  _ just _ enough to let Sticks grab them, and their attempts at escape were restricted to nothing more than a few gentle knees to solid areas of Sticks' frame. Squirming and pawing at Sticks' back in a rather ineffectual manner, they 'accidentally' staggered back and ran into their berth, putting them in the perfect position to be shoved over it. They were  _ excited _ , dear Primus, they hadn't expected  _ this _ , and their plating was already starting to heat up as they squirmed against Sticks' frame. Notably, they weren't pawing with their  _ servos _ as they continued to squirm, they were nudging with their forearms to avoid the pressure on their fingertips. Play-smacks.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/25/2018**

As the game went on Sticks got more and more impatient, so by the time they caught hold of Forceps, their optics were gleaming with determination. They pushed the mech onto their back on the berth and crouched slightly to sweep both of their legs onto their shoulders before climbing up to join them. It was possibly more weight than they should be able to carry but through sheer force of will they powered through. Once atop the berth they slowed down a bit and leaned over, one servo traveled down Forceps's thigh, letting their leg off their shoulder before finding the warmth behind their panel, the other reaching behind to grab their data transfer cable again. They pulled a length of the wire out, about as far as it would go, which would be more than enough. With a light squeeze, the end transformed into a different type of plug casing that would lie relatively flat against the port. It would have been easier if Forceps was on their front but that wouldn't be happening, call them selfish but they wanted to see the look on their face when they got the sensory input from the spike fucking them.

Sticks leaned down over Forceps's frame, drawing the tip of the plug up their side until they got close to where they remembered the port being, watching their optics carefully for any sign of hesitation. They spoke low and clear, making sure Forceps knew what they were getting into, "It's a two-way full-sensory/somatic connection so it's probably gonna be a lot- never done it before. I've got a program that'll control the connection and allow you to turn down any sensory input you don't want-better than just sharing everything I think." they grinned a bit, not particularly sexy talk but important, "We'll have to spend some time calibrating it, but it should be pretty fun, especially when we overload," their grin turned into a devious smile,  _ especially _ during overload. They rubbed their palm into Forceps's panel, tracing their thumb along the edge, "Any problems and I'll just give you a rough-aft spikedown which we know will be enjoyable for the both of us. Whaddya think?"

##  **Betta132** **12/25/2018**

Forceps squirmed a moment more, pedes kicking gently against Sticks' back, but their struggles were for naught and they went limp with a huff of playful defeat. Their optics followed the cable up, and there was a brief flicker of consideration in their expression, but not quite  _ hesitation _ . That... that was new.  _ Not _ one of the typical uses of that port. Delving into the fun side of cable-sharing wasn't something Forceps usually did, they generally confined things to practical purposes. But... why not? Glancing away and biting their lip, they opened their port cover in a silent invitation, arching up into Sticks' touches. 

The connection flickered to life, and Forceps quickly sorted through it, familiar with the basics of this from plugging into patients. Much of the data wasn't interesting, so they diverted that off. Sensory input from general contact was worth keeping as background presence. Nothing was sticking out  _ too _ much, but they weren't overwhelmed, they could work with this. And, after a little while to let Sticks adjust, they purred quietly and deliberately sent a specific set of tactile inputs over. Specifically, the input from the fingertips on their right servo, as they lifted their servo and stroked their fingertips gently over Sticks' lips. Warm, slick, smooth, the tiniest scars and nicks catching their attention, then they pressed their fingertips slightly into Sticks' mouth and  _ shuddered _ at the surge of pleasure. And, Primus, they were glad for the link to talk over. It wasn't the most coherent speech, though, just a general impression- one of  _ this is why I like this _ . They were so, so sensitive here, and their frame was interpreting every bit of this input as  _ sexual _ , as thoroughly sexual as if it had been their valve.

Panting softly, they purred up at Sticks, then smiled, arched up into them again, and rocked their pelvic panel against his frame, letting Sticks catch the flare of sensation from that.(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **12/25/2018**

Sticks had closed their optics once the connection was initiated -crossing optical feeds was the quickest way to a truly legendary headache- they got caught up in sorting through Forceps's signals they were surprised by the feeling, so intense it caught them offguard. Their breath caught and they leaned forward, fans whirring on as their frame heated up, optics flickering open just in time to catch Forceps's smile. A potent wave of  _ love _ traveled through the connection. They glanced away for a split-klik, almost embarrassed at the strength of their own reaction. Well, no hiding anything here, it was good every time to see Forceps smile. They smiled softly in return and paused for a moment. Optics closing again as they did one final sweep of their processor, making absolutely sure they had nothing left over from their arena days still activated. They didn't expect Forceps to snoop, they could if they knew how too, after all. In case they did, Sticks wanted to make sure they'd be okay. They'd let them see anything, anyway. Absolute trust.

That finally settled (at least enough to let them feel moderately confident), Sticks took a deep sigh and let themself relax all the way. They opened their optics again with a grin and slid their panel open then leaned over to let the bottom of their spike trail softly against Forceps's belly, traveling down to their hips. Little pings of pleasure were amplified by the reception, they could feel their spike begin to pressurize quick. "How's it feel?" they murmured, quiet so as to minimize any feedback.(edited)

December 26, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/26/2018**

Forceps flickered something warm but thoroughly shy in return, blushing harder, and very deliberately focused on the physical sensations to avoid flustering themself beyond being able to look up at Sticks. Groaning a long, slow noise, they dimmed their optics and purred, very quietly, thoroughly content to bask in the- well. Everything. The sensations against their own frame, of Sticks' frame, the  _ emotions _ \- dear Primus, it was almost too much, but it all felt so good. 

It didn't even occur to them to go snooping. There was nothing to look for- everything was here. Optics sliding shut, they slid one servo down Sticks' front, teasing and brushing softly with their fingertips, until they could pet up along Sticks' spike. They had to move their servo away, though- the combined input was too much. Something thoroughly coy purred through their field, then they arched their back slightly and broadcast their desires as thoroughly and firmly as they could. They wanted Sticks to, well. What they pretended to think was that a grip on their arms might keep them from overstimulating their fingertips against something. What they really wanted was just to have Sticks pin them down. A long groan, and they arched up and hooked a leg around Sticks' frame, retracting their covers to grind their equipment against Sticks' spike. That size difference meant that it wouldn't take too much prep for them to take Sticks' spike, so- please, yes, pin them down and  _ take them _ , hard, they could take the roughness,  _ please _ . They wanted something rougher, and they broadcast it clearly- though it was a bit odd, the warm, embarrassed affection mingled with "hello, please take me".

##  **Malusdraco** **12/26/2018**

Sticks bit their lip as they felt the increasingly-sensitive inputs from Forceps's equipment, concentrating, trying to draw out the overture  just enough not to be unwelcome. They traced the tip of their spike, down around their valve lips, hesitating for the slightest moment before thrusting in. They shuddered, leaning over to brace an arm against Forceps's hips. The feeling was... strange, almost too much as the thrust echoed into their own valve. On some level they registered how few internal nodes their spike was hitting, not that it would discourage them, no, to the contrary. Their fans hitched up a few levels as determination once again flooded their field. Their frame itched with an energy only fucking would solve. They thrusted again, slightly harder this time. And again, eventually settling into a slow but aggressive pace. Lube began to flow freely from their valve as it responded to Forceps's signals. 

One of the better advantages to sense-sharing is knowing the very instant one's techniques reach their peak. Sticks didn't miss a beat as they felt the pleasure plateau. Wordlessly they leaned into their thrust, enough to be able to grab Forceps's wrist. They shifted their weight, one servo gripping their side, the other bracing Forceps's arm against their chassis, and picked up the pace with another hungry growl from their engine.

##  **Betta132** **12/26/2018**

Forceps groaned softly, hips rocking up against Sticks, and set everything they had on a slight delay. Just an instant of delay, just enough- the fraction it took to make it less overwhelming. Pull the sensation of Sticks' thrusts just out of sync with the sensation of Forceps' valve sensors firing off, and it started to feel almost,  _ almost _ like it was all Forceps' own sensory input. Vents huffing quietly and hitching with every thrust, they tightened their legs around Sticks' frame and rocked up into the thrusts, lips parting, gasping softly in bliss. Oh, this- this was  _ good _ . It was a shame Sticks wasn't tall enough to lean up and pin their wrists to the berth, that- that was suddenly striking them as something they very much wanted to do, and the image of themself being tied to the berth for Sticks to  _ ravage _ pulsed across the link in a shower of arousal.  _ Fuck _ . 

Sticks growled, and Forceps' field gave a quick little  _ flutter _ in response, the lanky medic tilting their helm back slightly to show their throat. They- they felt like-  _ oh _ ! Primus. Field quivering something almost submissive, they squirmed soft and gentle under Sticks' frame, thrusting back up into the thrusts a bit harder, and dug their free servo into the blankets for support. Oh,  _ Primus _ , this was perfect, but-  _ more _ , please, harder, and- 

Again, it wasn't in any sort of actual  _ words _ , but they broadcast a quivering, anticipatory desire for Sticks to bite down on them. Not  _ too _ hard, but- a good nip, maybe hold on with their teeth,  _ please _ -!

##  **Malusdraco** **12/26/2018**

Sticks slowed down a bit, thrown out of their rhythm trying to think of just  _ how _ they'd do that. A few quick and rough thrusts and then a pause, then a few more. They didn't exactly know where Forceps kept their rope, nor were they willing to pull out to try to find it, and then there was the tying business-something for another day. They weren't stopping until the both of them came, or until it got bad, which it hopefully wouldn't. A few more quick thrusts laced with a height-related consternation, a silent curse to Primus for not giving them longer arms. They'd make it happen, some way, anything for Forceps. 

And then they had an idea. It would make the both of them sore in  _ strange _ places but they didn't much care at the moment.

Sticks thrust in all the way and paused, a serious look of determination set in their face, jaw clenched. Leaning first on one knee to free the other and then repeating the action for the other side, they stood up, legs shaking from a combination of Forceps's weight and their own flaring anticipation. Their arm not occupied with Forceps's servo shifted to hold some of their weight, fingers slipping into the small seams around their aft. They leaned over slowly, thrusting as they inched their forehelm against Forceps's front to make sure they could both get the right angle without hurting anything -slowly, slowly leaning forward, until they could feel the heat from their spark send tendrils of warm air across their face. A smile tugged at their mouth. They braced their head against Forceps, taking their weight off their other servo so they could gently pick up the other's wrist to place it on the berth as far as was comfortable to reach. The klik they were sure it had done no harm they shifted their weight to pin it again, lifting their helm, optics burning a mere few inches from Forceps's chin. They let out a hot breath against the other's delicate neck plating and went for it.(edited)

Sticks's first instinct was to clamp their teeth down, but they felt the instant it began to hurt and eased up, optics flaring as their nervous apology traveled across the line. The taste of the paint chips on their tongue, the feeling as the plating bowing just a fraction of an inch under their teeth burned away any anxiety -their engine  _ roared _ as they resumed thrusting, charge coursing through their system, as they put the weight of their entire frame into Forceps's valve. If Forceps wanted a beast, they would have it.

December 27, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/27/2018**

A slightly dazed attempt at reassurance that, no, Sticks did not try to do literally everything that ran through Forceps' mind, then that bled into confusion as Sticks- 

...what were they doing? Slightly bemused, but too floaty and satisfied to complain, they went with whatever Sticks was doing, shifting now and then if they had to in order to stay comfortable. Vague concern slid through their mind at Sticks' effort, but they weren't gonna hurt themself any, they'd drop Forceps (oof) before that. Hopefully this position would work to-  _ ooh _ , fuck. Having a large joint in place of one's waist made for some interesting possibilities as far as flexibility, and  _ this _ , oh, Primus,  _ yes _ . Forceps' vents hitched much harder, legs kicking around Sticks' frame, and they pawed at the blankets for something like support as Sticks pounded them. No need for anything like an apology, they'd  _ wanted _ to be bitten, they wanted that sting- Sticks had promised them a good fucking, and they were intending to  _ take _ that fucking, everything that Sticks could give them. That, and the sensory feedback, oh, Primus. Forceps' thoughts devolved into nothing more than semi-coherent swearing, and their entire frame jerked once or twice at the surge of sensation as Sticks' spike hit some especially deep nodes at a particularly unusual angle, accompanied by the sensation of that powerful little engine  _ vibrating _ against them. Dear  _ fuck _ that was good, that was  _ strong _ , so close to being too much but not quite there-!

They  _ really _ didn't bother trying to hold back from their own charge, just squirmed gently against Sticks' frame, panting, optics bright and practically sparking as the sensations nearly overwhelmed them. Tangled up in someone else's sensory input, they were practically caught by surprise by their own overload, and wound up somewhat inadvertently driving one heel into Sticks' back with much more force than they would have intended as they arched and came. Hard. Spike splattering transfluid up their own chassis as their frame tried to parse whether it was their spike, their valve, or  _ both _ being stimulated.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/27/2018**

Sticks couldn't quite tell who came first, all they felt was a wave of energy stronger than any overload they'd ever had- the combined feeling of both their frames. They let go of Forceps's neck to let out a breathy groan, coming hard as they felt the other's valve clench and unclench around their spike. With the last of their coherence, they took a shaky step forward, pede catching the blankets. Lube traveled down their thigh in long, viscous drips from their own valve. Their entire frame trembled as the charge at last left it. They could feel their grip on Forceps's wrist, their servo on their own aft, the heat from their panting as it hit Forceps's neck. Their engine petered out and the room became silent, save for the furious work of the pair's fans trying to cool their overheated frames.

Everything felt more sensitive after that. The cool air bit into their plating, taking their heat with it. There was an odd twinge in their back. Sticks could feel every twitch of Forceps's frame as intimately as if it were their own. A moment of gentle revelry, Sticks let the side of their helm bump softly against their partner's jaw. A muted thrill traveled over the line. Finally they leaned back enough to pull out, releasing Forceps's servo from the berth and letting their lower half down to rest. They took one staggering step, and then another, and collapsed down next to them, reaching a servo to absentmindedly trail their fingertips underneath one of Forceps's audial fins. The near-incessant buzz in the back of their mind was finally quiet, at least for now. 

For a few moments they just looked at their partner's face. Something warm, soft, unnamable traveled through the connection. They let their finger fall down to the bite mark they left, carefully circling each dented bit. "Seem to have made an impression," Sticks murmured through a burgeoning smile.

##  **Betta132** **12/27/2018**

For a moment, the sensation was thoroughly disorienting, as Forceps' processor reorganized itself. For just an instant, something in their subconsciousness genuinely thought every bit of sensory input was their own. When they began to parse it out properly, their attention locked on the twinge of pain, a twinge in muscle cables that they simply didn't have. They didn't  _ have _ the deep cabling, just a joint. So- 

Ah. Sticks. Sleepily returning the warmth, mixed with concern, they somewhat clumsily hauled Sticks up further next to them, butting into their throat in embarrassment- and couldn't resist the urge to lightly smack the back of their partner's shoulder at the  _ pun _ . Rude, putting puns in with their mushy feelings. They were starting to like the mush. But... Sticks had strained something, and Forceps, grumbling over the link, threw a leg over them to pin them and began to dig both sets of fingertips into the strained area. Could at least make sure nothing was pinched or aligned wrong. Pulsing something that could have been termed 'fussing' about Sticks having injured themself to oblige an urge, they rubbed carefully but firmly until the ache began to ease, and didn't stop past that. They were, heh, actually starting to like this. Even Forceps wasn't flexible enough to massage their own back.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/27/2018**

Sticks took Forceps's slight consternation with a soft chuckle and pulled their helm in closer. That... was definitely worth a pulled cable. They were thoroughly pleased by their sense-sharing experiment, even if it was odd to feel the cables of their own back in minute detail. Their fingertips twitched at the sheer amount of data that was being echoed in those nerves, best to- they reached around to place both servos on the back of Forceps's neck, following the seams down to the area between their sawlets they always seemed to like to have touched- yes this felt right. And now they understood why they liked to be massaged there, the perfect little tingly feelings reflected into their own back. They had felt every tiny emotion that had traveled through the line. It was as if they knew Forceps in an entirely different way, now.

And then it hit them that this was more than they dared to dream of all those years ago, sitting behind a desk at the archive, ignored by all passers-by save for those who would use them for information, desperately,  _ desperately _ lonely. They'd expected maybe they'd be able to give someone a good time at some point. But to find someone who trusted them enough to link so deeply, who fussed over them afterwards, who seemed to love them just as much as the reverse. Between their extra energy mood swings and the post-overload hormones undoubtedly swirling in their system, they felt the beginnings of a powerful wave of emotion wash over them. It started as a trickle of gentle affection, then quickly gathered speed, adding passion and desire and overwhelming  _ gratitude, _ until they were swimming in it. They paused their fingers and pulled Forceps into a tight hug. They let out something between a laugh and a sob as a pang of something bittersweet bloomed in their chassis. They hoped Forceps felt it too.

 

Oh. Fuck.  _ Emotions _ . Focus mentally reeled a fraction, caught somewhat off guard, but was enjoying everything too much to care. Especially with Sticks rubbing that spot  _ just right _ , Primus, that was good. That area was surrounded by tiny, delicate plates, lined with pressure sensors to help them coordinate things during surgery, and the rubbing sent bursts of gentle feedback up and down their spine. 

It... wasn't really enough to distract them from the emotions they were both drowning in, though. Vents hitching as their systems tried to figure out what almost felt like their own emotions, they curled around Sticks' frame and pulled a blanket up over them both, covering Sticks in fabric and their own frame. The weight seemed to be the right thing to do, and, ah- yes. Definitely. Perfect. That... that felt good. Calming. Comforting. 

Not that it helped Forceps figure out what to do. They were still baffled, but they were  _ safe _ , and that- that felt positive. Oh, it was definitely positive. It was also... not entirely made up of Sticks' emotions, Forceps realized. Some of that was their own, warm and deep and  _ possessive _ , as they tried to shield Sticks from the world. This was... the safest-feeling thing they could imagine, Primus. Wrapped up in each other, warm and safe, with Forceps feeling like someone larger was holding them up close. They could tell  _ exactly _ what to do to make Sticks feel best, and that... they liked that. 

They didn't like this whole "being swamped in emotions and hormones" thing, though. The clarity was appreciated, but it was preferable to read things for oneself, not have it screamed in one's audials.

##  **Malusdraco** **12/29/2018**

Sticks had not expected their emotions to compound quite like they did, between Forceps's response and then some level of discomfort from who knows where, it became more than even they could handle. They concentrated on the physical sensations, the warmth, the feeling of Forceps's frame right next to theirs, and the accompanying registration of their own frame seemingly tucked under their chassis. They stroked the tiny plates underneath their fingertips, and listened, waiting for Forceps's vents to steady. Gradually the emotion passed, leaving a simple kind of affection in its wake. 

Sticks sighed at last and mumbled, "Spent so much energy trying to avoid sensory feedback, didn't even occur to me that emotional feedback would be a problem." One servo traveled to the plug to rest there, an offer tinged with a bit of reluctance. If their frame was going to continue to send them such powerful mood swings, it would only exhaust the both of them more. But, they quite liked the proximity -the feeling of two at once, and the prospect of severing the link made them uneasy. They hadn't researched that far. Theoretically it was just ceasing to receive data they were both tapping into, it would be fine. But perhaps they'd always be haunted by echoes of the pain of their spark ripping in two. They pushed down the thought as quickly as possible, dispelling the accompanying flare of dread, it would be fine. 

"If the mood swings come back, it'll only get worse-I think. Don't think I wanna see you as angry as I was earlier." Sticks grinned a little bit, "Tell me whenever you're ready to close the connection," They trailed a finger around the port, savoring the echo that traveled through the line.

##  **Betta132** **12/29/2018**

Forceps, stubborn as usual, clung to Sticks' frame and rode the emotions out. A distressed wheezing noise slipped from their vents as they clung tight, tighter, trying to force the emotions away from them both. This was too much, and it was upsetting Sticks, and it was stronger than Forceps ever felt anything like this- 

The emotions eased, and Forceps' near-painfully-tight grip on Sticks' frame eased with it as they slowly went limp. The idea of removing the link sent a twinge of regret through them, but they were too busy reassuring Sticks to consider it, pulsing wordless reassurance and comfort. People did this, people other than them, and people were fine. It was fine. Primus, people did sparkbonds and were fine after. A deep vent, then another, then Forceps gathered everything they could that was remotely positive and shoved it at Sticks. Affection, reassurance, comfort, possessiveness, protection, all wrapped up with something far beyond just warmth. More like a hungry, surrounding flame. Sticks was willing to give them this affection, this trust? They would take every single scrap that Sticks had to spare,  _ everything _ . 

They... did have to detach, though, before it happened again and they both got upset. Sighing lightly, they pressed their forehelm to Sticks' for a moment, organizing themself and sorting them both back into separately processing entities. This sort of processor linkup could be and often was used for dual-processing, two processors combining power and speed to work on a problem, but when left to spiral they had... evidently kinda just gone with analyzing every scrap of emotion. Not great. 

Once they'd unwoven everything, they leaned back enough to sign "ready", then sighed at the removal of the sensations. Okay. They could... okay. 

But they were going to hug Sticks close, to prevent anything even remotely resembling loneliness. They were here. They were  _ here _ , and they weren't leaving. Sticks was  _ theirs _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **12/29/2018**

Sticks put a finger on either side of the plug. Tracing their thumb against the plate one last time, they pulled. Even having suppressed the other signals as far as they could, they still felt the absence as the cable slinked its way back into their neck. As they had expected it was fine, just odd, they'd gotten used to parsing  multiple signals in the time they'd spent connected, it was almost... cold. And then they felt Forceps's arms around them and it wasn't anymore, they weren't alone, they hadn't been. They smiled sweetly and returned the hug, holding tight for a long time. When at last they pulled away again, they gently pushed their helm into Forceps's cheek, "Thank you," they paused, bringing their head back to look Forceps in the optics, "It's... probably better to use words than to try to convey everything with...  _ very _ strong emotions but... thank you,  _ really. _ At the risk of sounding sappy," they paused again, smile widening, "you're the  _ best _ thing that's ever happened to me. That's what I was thinking about when it got all... yanno, overwhelming."

Sticks drew a servo up to the back of Forceps's neck and gently pet them, "You okay, Songbird? There was something... almost sad about severing the link- at least on my end, makes me wanna go give Soundwave a hug."(edited)

December 30, 2018

##  **Betta132** **12/30/2018**

Forceps, blushing rather badly, quickly signed out  _ "Not hard- nearly everything else that happened to you was slag" _ with rather angry-looking motions. That was all, though, because then they had to hug Sticks again. A tight squeeze, and they nuzzled in close, wrapping themself around Sticks as much as possible.  _.:Fine. It feels. Quieter now. Soundwave might benefit from attention and sympathy, he is a symbiote host who has lost most of his symbiotes. He is probably rather lonely. I doubt he would appreciate you bringing it up, though:. _

Humming softly, they shut their optics and purred a bit louder, lightly massaging up and down Sticks' back.  _.:I'm here. I'm not leaving you. I am here, you are safe, I will not leave you. But... you do need to work off this energy,:. _ they sighed, a servo sliding up to the back of Sticks' helm.  _.:What would you like to do about it? I... need some time before I can do something like that again. I could suck you off, I could offer you some toys, or you could go and... hit on someone else. For the record, if you would like to interface elsewhere, I have no complaints. Or you could let me rest for a little while longer and then fuck me again, there's always that:. _

Forceps gave a sleepy little purr at the vague thoughts, then hauled the blankets up further, making sure to gather Sticks in close and squeeze them tight. Forceps was  _ here _ for Sticks, as much as they wanted.

December 31, 2018

##  **Malusdraco** **12/31/2018**

Sticks hummed softly and pushed their helm into Forceps's neck with a happy sigh,  _.:If I had my way I'd stay here just like this- don't even wanna move:. _ They closed their optics and nuzzled their face further in,  _.:It's just about perfect:. _ A few kliks of silent thought,  _.:sentiment goes the same way, too. If you ever wanna sleep around by all means. Though...:. _ they smirked, pulsing a slight lascivious mischief through their field  _.:definitely wanna know what you get up to- or who, I guess. But, yanno, only if it's fun:. _ Sticks shivered a bit and resumed dragging their fingertips on Forceps's back,  _.:Don't know how often I would though, to be honest. Nobody's really caught my optic quite like you. Never really thought about fragging anyone else-at least, um, recently:. _ They at last noticed that itch in their joints, elbow, shoulders, knees, feeling like they wanted to move- like they had momentum even though they were perfectly still.

"You're kidding me, I was  _ standing up. _ "Sticks groaned softly. They buried their helm in Forceps's chassis, ducking under the blankets -  _ just a bit longer, come on. _ It was too nice tucked up next to Forceps, warm, enjoying the sweetness together with them, they didn't want to have to move to go deal with their stupid energetic frame.  _.:Can't even enjoy a nice moment with my partner thanks, frame:. _ They sighed and popped their helm back out of the blankets,  _.:Can't really hide from this problem, either, I guess. Who... who would you recommend I proposition?:. _ A groan, " _ Primus _ I don't even know where to begin."

##  **Betta132** **12/31/2018**

Forceps pulsed something  _ flustered/warm/irritated _ , the negative emotions mostly on Sticks' behalf rather than their own, and gave them a firm squeeze as they thought.  _.:Normally I'd say Blackspark, but he's likely not interested right now. Let me think. In terms of attractiveness... Reaver is polite and seems to be attractive by many standards. I highly doubt he would be anything but gentle. Vanguard, also pretty, but... I suspect too inexperienced for a small partner, given his size. There's always Twitch, but he's... he has an utterly filthy mouth, and he is a rowdy little thing. Hm. Red, perhaps? I'd be gentle in asking, but... I have no reason to think they would object to being asked, and the attention might do them some good:. _

They'd been given a challenge; figure out a good partner for Sticks. Which meant their emotions were quietly fading away, replaced by concentration, with a vague idle of arousal as they contemplated different bots who might be worth a try.  _.:Bracer, if you want to have to get creative about size differences. Walked in on him once, he is very much a sub. Hm- Sharpshot or Tempo are closer to your size. Longrange, heh- don't think Sharpshot would let you near. I'm almost inclined to suggest Soundwave, honestly, but he's currently our patient and that's a bit inappropriate. Technically everyone is your patient, but... if you don't interface with your patients, you won't ever interface, given our current population size. Unhealthy. Stick with only bots you aren't currently treating. Hm... come to think of it, try Gravescratch. He isn't ever actually attracted to anyone, but if you offer him an interesting scenario, he will gladly take your offer. If he isn't currently occupied with Blackspark. So... my suggestions would be, I think... primarily Reaver. Or Duo, they are... a lot, but they are probably energetic enough to keep up with you. And consider Red. What do you think, hm? Any ideas? I may have to request snaps:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **12/31/2018**

Sticks wriggled a bit frowning slightly in thought,  _.:I guess I get away with you since you're not a patient... though a coworker's not too far away from that I guess. I pity the fool who tries to make either of us feel bad about this, though. I'd kick their aft! I'd-:. _ They stopped themself before they got too riled up about a hypothetical dissenter  _.:My problem is I don't- I barely know any of them! And I'm pretty sure Gravescratch would laugh at me if I approached him. Choir's all out too, only one remotely up for interface is Burner and she's femmes-only:. _

Sticks shifted their arms a bit, absentmindedly tapping and tracing their fingertips along Forceps's upper back, "Guess I gotta make a list then, for when people say no. Lessee..." they paused, cocking their helm slightly, "Soundwave definitely made it on my 'to frag' list just, yanno, to say I did. But you're- you're right that'd be inappropriate, he's still recovering and besides there's the kid to look after. That-" they smiled, "that'd definitely be something to document, though. I'm flattered at the suggestion I might have a  _ chance _ with him." They pulled their helm in and rested their chin on Forceps's shoulder  _.:You think Red could- you really think I could help them? I mean it'd be pretty weird seeing as, well, I met them a few days ago while pretty out of it and then promptly disappeared. There's also-:. _ they snorted,  _.:There's also Salvo to contend with, dunno how he's gonna take me propositioning his ward. But- if you think it'd help them then it might be worth a shot. Maybe put them first. And Reaver next, after them. He's pretty enough, I can think of some fun things to do with him:. _ They paused and began to jog their pede, "Other two on my own list were Scalpel and Patches, just, yanno, for the kick of fragging one of my bosses. Don't think Scalpel would accept- could ask anyway to see the look on her face. And-um, listen-" here they pulled back a bit to look into Forceps's optics, "I know you don't like Patches much, he did already offer. I was talking with him before you came back, he suggested Focus first, which,  _ hah, _ that'd never happen, but, yanno, it was a no-pressure kinda thing. If that makes you too uncomfortable I'll pretend he never said it and look elsewhere." They brought their palm up to caress Forceps's cheek, face tinted with slight concern, "Answer honestly, babe. All-All of this is just, yanno, short-term problem solving, yours is the only opinion that really matters to me."

##  **Betta132** **12/31/2018**

_.:I think Red would benefit from any and all positive attention. They might change their mind at some point, if they do accept, but... it's certainly worth a venture. As long as your interest isn't entirely based on wanting to help them. You shouldn't be interfacing with anyone if attraction isn't a factor for you, no matter how helpful you think it might be, unless someone's life is... somehow in danger by some strange confluence of events. You need to respect yourself at least that much,:. _ they scolded softly, very gently, then gave Sticks another squeeze.  _.:And you need to have more respect for yourself and recognize your own appeal. Your face is somewhat unusual, but you are hardly objectionable to look at. I suspect most would call you cute. I certainly will, because you are. That is... not something that can be objectively determined, but I would call it a safe statement to make. You are cute. Your personality is far from objectionable, as well. And, keep in mind- Twitch has no trouble finding partners. Twitch is very strange to look at, is patterned as though he might be hiding toxic materials somewhere, and is. Well. Annoying at times. If he can easily find interface partners, you should have no problems. Be confident, approach someone as if you expect them to accept, and be polite. Stop deciding before asking someone that they won't like you- at least leave the deciding to them:. _

That was their best advice, not just for interface, but for anything one had to request. Assume it would go well, leave the rejection to them. 

A soft, deep sigh at the next bit, and they shook their helm slightly, optics slightly frustrated.  _.:I have nothing to prove that he is anything other than what he seems, aside from a feeling. And at this point I rather strongly suspect that the feeling is due to me not being used to bots who are... this sweet. If you think him trustworthy enough to interface with, I won't stop you, or object, but I can't promise I won't be at least vaguely uneasy about it. I thoroughly second your interest in Reaver. He may be slightly inexperienced, from what I know of him, but he is very kind. Franky, I-I would be encouraging about- anyone but Notepad or Doom, for entirely different reasons. Please do not proposition either of them. As for Scalpel,:. _ a quiet, amused huff,  _.:she does seem to have a taste for smaller mechs. I don't think she would object harshly, at least:. _

January 1, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/01/2019**

Sticks smiled slightly then sighed and nervously glanced away. What Forceps had said had caught in their mind, they still didn't seem to understand. They didn't want to have this conversation, it was always too convoluted to try to untangle and explain. They were lucky enough to have found bots with similar conditions at the archive who had taught them they weren't broken or defective- just unusual. They were lucky to have other people like them around them to make them not feel quite so alien. But it still was a conversation they dreaded. They didn't know how Forceps would react- they'd be fine, right? If they weren't they'd be a bit of a hypocrite, and Forceps really didn't seem the type. It didn't seem much like their business, anyway, but, maybe this would be their best shot at this conversation going right.(edited)

Sticks took a hesitant in-vent and looked into Forceps's optics again, helm cocked, expression confused, concerned, but the slightest bit hopeful, "I-hmm- I think there's something you don't quite understand about-about me," their voice was soft but they spoke with authority, as if it were a conversation they'd practiced before, "When I say it's only you it's not a compliment or-or some kinda declaration of faith it's- it really is only you. Attraction, for me, isn't based off of looks or some kinda innate something it's based on bonds- strong ones. It's- it's extremely personal- like, a desire to know all of someone after knowing only what they show on the outside. Ostentiably none of my considerations are based on attraction- that- it's, it's just not how it works for me. Took me a long time to figure out I wasn't just completely uninterested in interface. An-And before you say I'm sick-or-or broken or something, I know for a  _ fact _ I'm not. I've met people like me and-" they cut themself off, noticing they were tensing in Forceps's arms. They'd gotten carried away, hiding for their entire life behind protecting silence, that the first chance they'd taken to actually try to explain themself, they went immediately to the defensive- really wasn't a good way to assert their point. They relaxed a bit and leaned their helm into Forceps's shoulder, taking a few deep breaths, "anyway, it's not a matter of self respect, it's a matter of issue. I have a problem, it needs to be solved, if I can do it while getting to know someone, helping someone, or having fun, then it doesn't quite matter to me that I am not attracted to them to begin with."

Sticks let out a short sigh, "Sorry I got so... defensive, I haven't had this conversation outside my head before and instinctively gear up for opposition."

##  **Betta132** **01/01/2019**

Forceps purred through their vents, stroking Sticks' winglets, and kept rubbing until they relaxed.  _.:Then you're demisexual. Demisexual people only experience attraction after establishing a strong emotional connection. And self-esteem is an issue whenever you keep stating that someone might, for example, laugh if you were to proposition them. Stop doing that to yourself. Now- physical attraction or not aside, you need to have some sort of... conceptual attraction to the person. An expectation of mutual pleasure, not just them using you or some vague concept that you might help. I- Sticks, let me be very clear-:. _

Leaning back slightly, they took Sticks' face in both servos, locking optics with smaller bots.  _.:I have seen what it does to medics when they set aside their own pleasure in favor of what they think will help others. It is not healthy to let others use your frame as they wish. Even if the only intent is to burn off charge, there must be some expectation of mutual enjoyment. So... if you like the idea of helping someone, enjoy that, but you must also make your own pleasure something important:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/01/2019**

Sticks was dazed for a moment, still processing Forceps's quiet acceptance  _.:Yeah... yeah okay. I- I can see how that'd be- it could become an open invitation for people to take advantage of me- not in that business anymore:. _ they looked away, their optic twitching with the slightest hint of annoyance. It still rubbed them the wrong way that it took so much coaching from everyone around them to convince themself of their self-worth. They sighed, there were better things to think about  _.:Anyway that's why Red's on the list and not Five-Alarm- though I'm sure both of them could use attention. At least Red seems nice. But- you know, now you mention it, they seemed, rather desperate, too- from what I saw of them:. _ a familiar kind of desperate  _.:I couldn't ask that of them, I don't think. It'd be kinda hypocritical wouldn't it? I do want to get to know them better, though, in a context that's less... charged:. _

Sticks realized their pun as they COMMed it and couldn't stop themself from a soft snort  _.:You know what, my annoying tendencies to self-sacrifice is not a very fun topic, you know what is fun, though, not having to explain to you what demisexuality is:. _ they brought their servos up to cover Forceps's and gently laced their fingers together,  _.:I can't believe you actually knew the word for it, too- had a whole speech prepared and everything- complete with argument. Putting all my hard work worrying to waste-in a way that I'm entirely grateful for:. _ They nuzzled their helm into Forceps's servos with a smile, "Anyway, right, Red's off the list- at least until they get more independence, which," they smiled a little wider, "Salvo's good at that. Soundwave, benched for aforementioned reasons. Reaver is still there, wonder how he'd react to an outright ask from a mostly-stranger, though. I'm... still considering Patches's offer, at least I  _ know _ him. As-" they chuckled a bit, "as saccharine as he is, guess we'll see how that pans out. I'll send you periodic updates if that's the case, I do  _ not _ wanna poke at your paranoia though." They fell serious for the last part, just enough to get their point across, then tilted their helm and curled their fingers in a bit, "and, what the pit, I'll film myself asking Scalpel if she's around. Figure she'll probably say no given that Burner seems to want everything to do with her and she's already got Acus but she'll probably do it in a fun way."

Sticks began to feel that needing tingle up their spine again and huffed, they only had so much longer laying here- all too still- before they risked another emotional surge.

##  **Betta132** **01/01/2019**

_.:I will say, if you feel confident enough in the future, and if it's something you'd want to do, some medics do make it quietly known that they're willing to help someone with a heat cycle. Patches does that. But he's... difficult to push around, both literally and figuratively. He knows what he likes and what he's comfortable with, and he enjoys helping people. That, and he's durable enough for large partners to not hurt him. You are... something less than durable:. _

A few more thoughts, then a quiet sigh, and Forceps slowly sat up with an armload of Sticks.  _.:I've heard the word a few times. I expect everyone here, though they might not all know the word, will accept it. Doom may be a bit baffled and poke at you some, but he's baffled by most things, he doesn't mean any harm. His opinion on anyone's sexuality is too uninformed to bother with heeding. Now- are you going to start propositioning people? I suspect:. _ a pause, one servo running gently down Sticks' back, fingertips picking up on the charge,  _.:you might not have much time to coherently proposition someone once you have to get up. May as well call them now. I'd think Reaver might be your best bet, but... I suppose Patches is probably willing. And I still think you ought to try Focus, he's probably very flexible. Or, ah- if you're feeling particularly rowdy... Wreck and Ruin:. _

Grumbling softly, they sat up a bit straighter, arched their back, and stretched, purring gently in quiet relaxation.  _.:Should be interesting to see what you can get up to with me once you get your full strength in. That was an... interesting position:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/01/2019**

Sticks blushed and quietly laughed before hopping down off the berth. They jogged in place a bit and turned back to face Forceps, "Well I-uh," they blushed harder and cocked their helm a bit, the edges of their lips curling into a smile, "I aim to please." Their optics snapped downward, realizing they had yet to close their panel. They did so and took the chance to look themself over, they would be walking around, maybe outside of the medics' quarters, best not to look exactly like they'd done what they'd just been doing. Luckily the extent of their romp was minimal on their own frame- a healthy dose of lube on their leg and a slight splatter of Forceps's transfluid on their front, nothing that a quick wipe-down wouldn't fix for now. They'd just scurry over to their own room, clean up a bit, and maybe call Patches on the way. It took a few kliks to realize they were hopping from one leg to the other. They shook their helm and looked back up at Forceps.

"Well, I'm gonna try Patches- if only for Alarm's insistence that anyone who does so is- and I quote- 'a stuffed animal fetishist.' Anything to spite him. Plus, I figure, mech's seen my spark and the terrible beginnings of a pretty hefty breakdown, really not much else of me to be surprised by. You'll be the first to know if he does anything suspicious, of course. I'll keep you updated, too." They paced in a circle a bit, giving into their frame's demands after being still for so long. It took a few laps to mentally break out enough to jog over to Forceps, climb up onto their legs far enough to reach their face, and plant a quick kiss on their lips. They pulled away and looked the other in the optics,  _.:Now rest, sweet Songbird:. _

With that they turned around and scampered out of the room. Their first stop was their own room, a quick jog down the corridor and they flung themself through their open door. Now that nobody was around to judge them, they were absolutely going to use their energy to do things that made them look stupid- granted of course they watched out for their servos. They were actually  _ excited _ for once. Not particularly at anything, though, which indicated it was more of a mood swing than any reaction to the idea of casual interface but all the same they found it more than entertaining to jump around like a maniac. They dashed over to their amenities corner, pulled out a few disinfectant wipes, and got to work,  _.:Patches what- what are you up do?:. _ That was. that'd work right?

##  **Betta132** **01/01/2019**

Forceps watched the... energetic behavior for a little while, crawling further into their berth to curl up, and huddled down under the blankets. They were very determinedly not thinking about Patches, at all. It was fine. Patches was just... like that. Maybe it was as a defense mechanism of some sort. It definitely wasn't a trick. Patches wasn't going to do anything to Sticks that Sticks didn't want. It was fine. It was... completely fine. Totally fine. No problems whatsoever. They were safe. Sticks was safe. 

And horny. But healthy, and seemingly feeling at least reasonably well, aside from the emotion swings. That was all right- they were awake now, they could work everything out. They were healthy, just needed to move around some. This would do the trick, presumably. 

Curling up more snugly, they tucked their helm down and purred, ever-so-softly, the tiniest (absurd) smile drifting across their face.  _.:Enjoy yourself, Ember:. _

Patches paused his work, smiling just a tiny bit as something he'd expected seemed to be gathering itself up to happen, and began to file away his data-pads to work on later.  _.:Sorting psych reports from Notepad. It's not something I need to do right now. Let me guess, Sticks- you wore out Forceps and you're not done yet? Do you want me to provide recommendations, toys, or myself? I'll happily do any of those, glad to help. Are you feeling all right aside from the energy?:. _

January 2, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/02/2019**

Sticks paused, servo on a wipe on the inside of their thigh, were they really that predictable?  _.:I-uhh, yeah. That's- that's what happened. Wanted a nice frag and catch-up/get together time with my partner and my damned frame has decided I can't have that. They were complicit in this so they paid for it with-:. _ where were they going with this? They were laughing a bit now as they continued to try to clean up  _.:I dunno what- they enjoyed it though- but it's time you paid your dues! You and Forceps both did this to me! Reap what you've sown!:. _ They still didn't quite know what they were saying. Anything more serious would have felt weird. In hindsight, perhaps it was not so lucky to have been always on the receiving end of propositions, they had no idea how to ask! No practice in the slightest! At least Patches had filled in the blanks, they had no idea where to start with anyone else. Hopefully, though, Patches would be able to solve their problem for longer, he was much bigger than Forceps, they'd probably have to expend more energy just to get him to move. He- wait. He definitely wasn't a small mech... this would pose more than a bit of a challenge. Though, they supposed, height could be deceiving. They'd figure it out, hopefully.

Sticks'd been silent for a few moments before following up  _.:Anyway that's a yes on all counts:. _

  
  


_.:Poor sweetie. Meet me in my room, I'll get you all tired out so you can go back to Forceps. I will pay for my crimes against snuggling!:. _ Patches giggled, setting everything aside properly, and moved from his desk to his berth. Which, not surprisingly, was very soft and covered in blankets. Humming quietly and happily, he moved his collection of stuffed animals into a bin next to the berth, shutting it to keep everything safe and also out of the way. People didn't like fragging with stuffed animals watching them, usually.

When Sticks knocked, he called "come in!" and opened his nightstand drawer slightly, making it available. He kept a few favorite toys in there. Purring softly, he sat in the center of the berth with his pedes drawn up and his knees apart, the closest he could comfortably come to crossing his legs, and a rather tempting little picture. His optics brightened a fraction at Sticks' approach, and he pricked his winglets, the very picture of quiet anticipation. "Come here- let's have a look at you. What would you like to do? I'm open to just about anything you'd like to do, and that includes kinks. There isn't much I don't like, honestly, but I'm also happy to stick with more vanilla things if that's what you'd like. And, let me be clear- I'm not your boss right now, okay? Consider me a friend helping you out with something. Come here and let me make you feel good, hm? Maybe a little kiss, and then... we'll see what happens. Let me know how to make you comfortable."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/02/2019**

Sticks stood in the doorway for a moment, mentally taking stock in exactly what they were doing. They were nervous- faced with a new interface partner who was just a few steps up from friend. He was nice enough for sure, but standing in front of him now was much different than COMMing him or thinking about fragging him- much more real. Luckily it seemed their frame had forwent grabbing onto the nerves and blowing them out to a ridiculous proportion in favor of stoking their charge. They realized they were still standing in the doorway and hopped in a little. 

"I- hmm, I think I expended all my good ideas today- they were great ideas, by the way. I just need to be moving so don't think being tied up would be a good idea," Sticks realized they were hunched over and stood up straight. There was nothing to be nervous about! Except maybe- "K-kisses are for- for Forceps. I'd feel weird, um, kissing you. Not that I think you'd expect me to but-yanno." They felt another wave of energy wash over them and groaned as their whole frame shook, " _ Primus _ why can't anything go smoothly. Horny disorder picked the wrong bot to affect. I don't-" Sticks began to laugh, a kind of self-pitying laugh, "I don't know the first  _ thing _ about sleeping around! hff" They strode over to the berth, hopped up to sit next to Patches, and let out a terse sigh.

##  **Betta132** **01/02/2019**

"Oh, come here," Patches crooned, field fluttering something gentle, soft, and encouraging, and gathered Sticks up close with one arm. "No ropes and no kissing, got it. How about... let's try this," he purred, and lifted Sticks gently into his lap, positioning them in his lap with their legs spread around his frame. ""Now... would you like me to get some toys, or... shall I just use what I have? Show me what you have, mm? No need to be shy. Let's get right to tiring you out some. Maybe we can figure out some more complicated things once you're not quite so full of energy. Just... open up for me?" 

Engine rumbling low and deep, he palmed Sticks' panels, nice and gently, stroking along the seams. "I'll need a moment to warm up, and the best thing for  _ that _ is for you to let me touch you. We do have a bit of a size difference here, but I can work with this. If you want to spike me, I have a few toys you could use to fill me up a bit more, make things tighter for both of us to enjoy. Otherwise... I suspect it might wind up more as grinding than anything else. Not that I'd mind, but you seem like you're not in the mood for lighter sensations. Or I could spike  _ you _ , and you could ride me. Let's see how much you can easily stretch," he purred, leaning back slightly, his voice dropping a notch into a quiet, pleased rumble. "So... I suppose right now the question is if you want to use your spike or valve, and if you want toys involved. And what of  _ me _ you want me to use."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/02/2019**

That was quite a lot of questions to think about while sitting with someone's servo on your panel. Sticks blushed slightly and leaned into the rumbling of Patches's engine, that was nice, relaxing, and his fingers were gentle against their frame. They could feel their tension start to wane. They in-vented and slowly opened up their panel. They congratulated themself on the foresight to give  _ everything _ a quick wipe-down. There was nothing quite worse they could think of at the moment than immediately landing a servo onto someone else's lube. Their spike reacted immediately to Patches's touch, perking up slightly. 

Sticks cocked their helm a bit to look up at Patches, "I remember way back when, I used to be considered big. Then again the fragging pool was just a bunch of asocial minis from the Iacon Archive. A bit of a rude awakening when I got to spike someone bigger and realized, well..." They shrugged, "Speaking of size-um." They shifted back and lightly trailed their fingers along Patches's inner thigh, "how- how big are we talking here. If I'm going to make the choice, it's gonna be an educated one.

##  **Betta132** **01/02/2019**

Patches' optics glinted, and he purred, engine kicking up a notch higher as he dipped a fingertip into Sticks' valve. Gently, softly, just barely past the first joint. Had to be gentle here- one of his fingers was just about as thick as two of Sticks', and he wasn't sure how primed Sticks' valve was. "Mm, well. Don't need to be big to be pretty," he purred, and swiveled his wrist to rub his thumbtip along the shaft of Sticks' spike. "As for size, give me a moment more," he crooned, and slid a servo up Sticks' back to pull them slightly closer, vents starting to purr. His frame always took a klik or two to get revved up, but he was more than up for this. Retracting his panels, he leaned back slightly further to show his equipment off further, settling back against the heap of cushions at the head of his berth. That made a nice picture, him lounging with his equipment on display. His valve was the same soft white as his face, the lips striped with bands of light blue and purple, plump and inviting. His spike wasn't fully pressurized yet, only about halfway out of its housing, and was the same soft white and patterning. And it was about as thick as Sticks' forearm. Glancing down at himself, Patches blushed the tiniest bit, then hummed slightly and shifted both their positions.

Slide Sticks down a bit further, one of their legs thrown over his hip, shift their frame to the side a bit, and hook a leg over their other leg. Scissoring wasn't the best way to get enough stimulation to actually get off, not without toys involved- everything was too slippery. But it was an  _ excellent _ way to get someone more revved up. Gripping Sticks' hips gently but firmly in both servos, he rocked up to grind his node against Sticks', letting out a soft ex-vent and dimming his optics slightly. And, thanks primarily to considerable experience, still speaking clearly as he ground their valve stogether. "Nnh- your choice. I won't h-hurt you, of course, I'll be gentle. Eat you out if you'd like. Go as slow as you need. I've had partners smaller'n you. If you w-want me to spike you, I would  _ love _ to, but it's up to you. W-we could also do  _ this _ for a little while, with -ooh!- a toy or- or two involved, you could spike me, or- or your choice! And I do have the energy for- for more than one thing, if you want."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/02/2019**

Sticks leaned back into Patches's servos, the contact felt good- being supported. Their fans shuddered into action as they concentrated on the feeling of their valves slipping past each other, optics fluttering for a few moments. They pulled themself together after a bit, enough to actively began to grind into Patches's valve. They dubiously eyed his spike- that was... bigger than they were used to, "hefty... and pretty too. Think- mmm, think I wanna ride it. Don't know how I'll fit it all though." 

They couldn't quite lean forward enough to reach their mouth anywhere meaningful and so settled for leading their servo up his thigh to cradle his spike at the base. Patches seemed comfortable enough that they weren't too concerned about crossing borders too quickly, but still murmured a quiet "tell me if I should stop" before continuing. Sticks palmed the underside of Patches's spike and drew it out, flitting their fingers around its minute grooves, getting a good sense of its entirety. They pulled away, far enough to catch some of their own lube. Swirling two fingers around the entrance to their valve they then gently, slowly, repeated the action, pressing their slick fingers on either side of his spike, the entire time watching his face for some kind of reaction, field quivering in anticipation.

##  **Betta132** **01/02/2019**

Patches ex-vented a long, soft purr, optics half-shutting, and groaned in quiet pleasure as he rocked his hips a bit harder. "Nngh... definitely don't stop. And I appreciate the consideration, but, short of something that would cause one of us pain, there is... very, very little I'll object to here. Enjoy yourself. And... let me see if I can stretch you enough." 

Purring his engines harder, he slid one finger firmly into Sticks' valve, rubbing at soft inner walls to coax the calipers further apart. "Mm- had some practice at this. Know exactly how much someone has t' be able to stretch to take me. Wanna watch you  _ ride _ me," he groaned, armor flaring as his spike pressurized fully, then purred and grabbed Sticks' aft with his free servo. Not just for the sake of squeezing it, either, his fingertips found a set of seams and began to stroke and pluck at everything he could reach. "Ohh... you're going to look so  _ good _ doing this. Your valve is so warm, so snug- you're going to fit so  _ well _ around me, Sticks, and I'm going to make you feel amazing." 

His  thrusting digit meant minimal resistance, so he pressed another fingertip into Sticks' valve, pressing long and slow, then began to rock his entire servo in long, firm motions, fucking Sticks' valve open with gentle, skilled thrusts and scissoring motions. "Nnh- that's good, clever servos,  _ there _ we are- oh, that's good. Focus on your servos, your fingertips- you're going to get so many sensors in your fingertips eventually, should practice now. That's it, that's good- l-lower your servo a bit? D-down along the base of my spike, there you go, right around the rim of the housing- your fingertips are small enough to fit right in past the rim, try it. Feels  _ good _ ."

January 3, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/03/2019**

Sticks smiled and blushed harder, sweetness they'd expected, but the gentle encouragement was much beyond what they knew. They hummed and leaned forward a bit, hips jerking into Patches's fingers. Bracing a servo against Patches's belly, they closed their optics and concentrated on their fingers. Maybe if they thought hard enough they could pretend they felt something like what Forceps showed them. With their unoccupied servo they traced the seams in Patches's hip assembly with the tips of their fingers. They bit their lip in focusing with intense concentration on amplifying what they felt, grasping desperately onto the sensation-memory, the firework of pleasure, from Forceps's finger on their lips. Softly they followed the rim of Patches's spike housing then tentatively dipped a finger in. It was warm, and a little cramped, stuck between wall and spike, but slick, and with enough give to make them feel like they were getting somewhere. A smile pulled at the edges of their lips as they inched in a bit further and flipped their finger around to gently stroke closer to the base of his spike. A little more confident now, they slipped a second finger in and began to massage in that area, shifting around to get the underside. They could only imagine what it would feel like with real medic-grade sensor levels, with the subtle twitching and pulsing they could just barely feel now.

Sticks's engine revved for a moment as Patches hit a good spot. They opened their optics again and grinned, "You-you're so composed, Patches," their frame tensed as their charge grew, "It's a good look but I'm thinking I wanna make you speechless by the end." They figure if they could render old Patches a mess of pleasure that'd be a win in their book. 

The thought occurred to them that they hadn't kept Forceps in the loop like they'd said they would. They were too busy trying to prepare themself, their intent escaped from them. Best to get it done now while they had the mind for it,  _.:All's well. Hot. Learning new things:. _ They assumed Forceps didn't want snaps in this instance and so spared Patches the conversation.

##  **Betta132** **01/03/2019**

"O _ oh _ , that- that sounds  _ perfect _ ," Patches groaned, helm lolling back slightly, and growl-purred up at Sticks. "That's good, that's  _ good _ , clever little servos. That's it... you've got it. N-now, this- you can get your fingers in further, there's more space, if someone's spike isn't -nngh- pressurized all the way. This- just the tips fit now, but, mm,  _ oh _ it still feels good. Just- ooh-" 

His leg twitched slightly, and he purred much, much louder, lips parting in a quiet moan, curling his fingers firmly against Sticks' valve walls. "Nngh. Ohh, Primus. So good," he crooned, scissoring his fingers apart further, and rotated his wrist to spread Sticks' valve further. "Oh, your frame  _ likes _ this, you're  _ absolutely _ going to be able to take me. I'm going to make you feel so  _ good _ , Sticks- come up here and line yourself up, pretty thing?" 

Moving gently but firmly, he lifted Sticks to set the other's knees on either side of his hips, lining Sticks' valve up nice and gently with his valve, then slid both servos up to rub Sticks' back. "Here- you should be able to take some of- of me right now. Give it a try, nice and slow- let- let me see what you can take, hm? Good bot, come now, let's see- take your time." 

Forceps, still curled comfortably into a ball, considered themself for a moment before sighing and replying.  _.:Good. Enjoy. Share it with me later:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/03/2019**

Forceps's reply was a good sign. They wouldn't sound so calm if they were having trouble. An unnamed tension fled from Sticks's frame. They looked Patches in the optics with charge-threaded determination. They shifted their servo slightly higher on Patches's flank and retreated their fingers from his spike housing, trailing them gently up the shaft until they could catch a loose, careful grip. A quiet "here we go," and they sat up on their knees, guiding the tip of Patches's spike to their valve. They paused for a moment, teasing themself just the slightest bit before pushing on. 

Sticks was almost surprised. The fit was snug, for sure, pushing just past the tip, they shuddered and let out a soft groan. They pulled back a bit before slowly pushing in again. When they pulled back again, they could feel a rush of lube from the back of their valve surge forward. This time they thrust their hips and took Patches's spike all the way. Their whole frame tensed as Patches filled them entirely, hitting even their deepest nodes. In a quiet moment of triumph Sticks leaned forward a bit, partially to recover their balance, "Wow, uhh," they looked up at Patches's face with an expression of delighted disbelief, "S'all gone."

Their calm was broken all too soon as Sticks felt the energy rekindling in their hips. Their armor flared. The wheels on their back began to spin as their engine spat. Without hesitation they began to ride, shifting their position to put more weight on their arms, servos gripping the closest available plating. They quickly picked up speed as they let the energy take the wheel, thrusting as long and hard as they could.

##  **Betta132** **01/03/2019**

"Easy now, go as slow as you need t- _ oooh- _ " Patches squeaked, winglets hitching up higher, and crooned in bliss as Sticks sank down. "Ohh, so good, that's it-  _ good _ Sticks,  _ oh _ !" he crooned, giggling slightly, and braced his servos on Sticks' frame as he rocked up to meet the smaller bot's thrusts. "Oh, that's it, that's good-  _ so _ good, oh!" he moaned, stroking along Sticks' back with both servos, then gave one wheel a quick smack with his forearm and thrust a bit harder. Well! He hadn't been expecting this, he'd anticipated to have to be much gentler, but Sticks' frame was evidently more than up for this. And he was in no way going to protest! In fact, he was going to give Sticks a good, proper fucking, let the cutie ride him until they were both tired- or until Sticks wanted something else. 

Patches wasn't terribly flexible, and he wasn't always fast, but he was  _ strong _ and so was his engine. His alt was heavy, his engine was strong, and the enthusiastic revs carried through his frame with enough intensity to thrum against Sticks' valve and thighs. And, as he lifted a servo to stroke Sticks' spike, the tiniest bit of the vibrations carried through his fingertips into the smaller bot's equipment. He knew what he was doing, too- couldn't get his fingertips around the base of Sticks' spike like they'd done with him, but he could tease just around the rim of the housing, rubbing and stroking at the soft material. "O-oh, that's-  _ oh _ goodness, you're- oh! Strong little one! Let- let me know if you-  _ oh _ \- want me to- to overload when you do, or af-after, for your-  _ ohh _ goodness, I- ohh, some people like the- the charge and the f-fluids at- ooh goodness,  _ Primus _ , oh  _ frag me _ -" 

Well. Absolutely no hope of him speaking clearly any more.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/03/2019**

Sticks gave a bit of thought to saying "do what you want" but couldn't quite manage it. Every time they tried to fit their mouth around the first letter, another wave of charge traveled up through their front, instead coaxing another short groan out of them. Their entire frame buzzed as they worked with Patches's thrusts. The rumble from his engines seemed to echo through their entire frame in a comforting way. To their delight they could feel the beginnings of a deep exhaustion coming on. They were going to overload, and then hopefully that'd be the end of this nonsense, but not before- they slipped their servo around Patches's and rubbed their fingers into his palm. They didn't quite want to give him the choice of when to overload. They were going to put all they had into one final rally.

Fans hitching up to maximum, Sticks quickened their pace, putting all they could into each thrust. They joined Patches, letting their own engines rip, loud and violent enough to shake their frame. Before they realized it, their charge hit breaking point. They let out a staccato yell as they overloaded, calipers rippling around Patches's spike. Their ownspike pulsed under his finger as transfluid splattered their belly. They still thrust for a few moments after, traveling the length of his spike through a broken pace. They tried to squeeze every last modicum of energy out of their frame until their charge was gone. They found themself breathing heavily and barely able to concentrate as they fell forward onto Patches's front.

##  **Betta132** **01/03/2019**

_ Ohh _ Primus, right,  _ motorcycle _ , he'd forgotten about the engines that 'cycles tended to have-! Patches' legs twitched hard and he yelped in surprised pleasure, gripping Sticks' hips tight in one servo, and thrust up into them a few more times before overloading. Moaning softly, he held Sticks still to rock up into them, groaning, spike pulsing hard and gushing transfluid deep into Sticks' clenching valve. "Ohh, oh so  _ good _ , sweet,  _ good _ Sticks," Patches groaned softly, and supported the smaller bot as they went limp, cradling their frame close against his. Curling slightly onto his side, he gave Sticks a soft, gentle hug, arms around them, gathering up one of his blankets. "Oh. So good. How... mmh. How d'you feel?" he purred, leaning down in an effort to nuzzle them, then shifted his hold and lifted them up further. He would have liked to keep them on his spike, but he couldn't nuzzle their helm or see their face properly when their face was somewhere around his chassis. That freed a gush of combined fluids, and Patches, triling in response, pushed one thigh up between Sticks' legs. Nice and gentle, letting Sticks grind down if they wanted, gathering them up close to keep them warm. 

After a few moments of hazy enjoyment, he chuckled softly and nuzzled their helm, rubbing his cheek against one of their audials. "You want to let Forceps know I haven't... kidnapped or murdered you, or- or turned cannibal and eaten you? Or, hm, haven't  _ eaten you _ " with an intonation hinting rather heavily at sex "yet. Might. Sore?"

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/04/2019**

Sticks was still twitching a little bit as they leaned into Patches's frame, optics half closed. He was so warm and his arms seemed to cover them almost as much as any blanket did- an all-encompassing barrier of living being. They nuzzled their face into his neck and sighed in tired contentment. The buzz in their limbs was replaced with silence and finally,  _ finally _ they couldn't seem to feel the first inklings of any other movement. For the first time that day they felt truly relaxed. They smiled and hummed softly, "good hugger." 

As Sticks was able to at last put themself together, some of their rudeness began to catch up to them- they hadn't exactly said a whole lot the entire time, even when Patches had checked up on them so nicely. Their frame had ran with its urgency and hadn't given them a chance to really think. They loosely threaded their arms around Patches's chassis and pulsed a quick chirp of  _ friendship/gratitude _ through their field, "I'm fine, mercifully tired at last. If I'm lucky this-" they yawned "this is it. Really tried to frag the last of the energy outta me. As for Forceps, well," Sticks looked away sheepishly, "Little rude of me but I did COMM them while we were going at it. I'd promised I'd send them periodic updates and then only remembered when we were finger-deep. They seemed fine at the time, though, replied and everything."

Sticks grew quiet, contemplative, "You two probably just need to spend a little more time together, I think. You know, outside of work. It can't be easy for the both of you trying to exist in the same place like this..." They could continue the thought further but decided to leave it. As much as knowing someone doesn't trust you might suck, being reminded of it is not always the most productive. Sticks cocked their helm a little, it occurred to them they may be able to do something to help the situation as a mediator. They turned their helm a bit, pushing against Patches's jaw, "anyway, how are you doing? Was it- uhm, was it good?"

##  **Betta132** **01/04/2019**

Patches hummed a happy note and gave Sticks a gentle squeeze, one servo rubbing gently at the back of their helm. "Mm. No problem. Don't think I'd mind if y' sent snaps. Not shy. Hopef'lly they'll... they're relaxing some around me. Not sure they'd like to interact with  _ just _ me, think that... the paranoia might kick in. Fine in a group. I figure... eventually they're gonn' decide I'm fine. Pretty sure they've never... never actually met someone quite like me. A lot haven't. 's fine! I don'... don' take it personally. The... the whole personality 's a real unusual one now. Seen it faked a time or two t' lure people in. It's- it's alright, we- we can work together fine. They'll come around. Maybe I can hug 'm eventually?" he shrugged, nuzzling quietly into Sticks' helm. 

He perked up a bit at the question, though. "Mhm- very good. I didn't expect you to stretch that much so  _ easily _ ! Glad to see you're feeling better, even if it's frustrating. You'll be all right- frame just needs some time. And if you need an energy outlet again, I'd be happy to oblige. In fact..." he purred, stroking down Sticks' back, and gave their aft a teasing little squeeze, "do you want me to see if another overload will knock you out? Might as well tire you out even further. Besides that... I rather like the idea of doing something with you while I'm fully coherent and able to enjoy it, instead of you, heh, fragging my brains out. Maybe a toy or two. Interested, cute thing?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/04/2019**

Sticks eased back a bit and smiled suggestively, "Definitely interested. Though I wonder how Forceps would react to you depositing an unconscious me at their door. Likely to delay that hug that I definitely want to see someday." they cocked their helm and began thinking aloud, "Even if I told em beforehand... don't know how to phrase it so it doesn't come out wrong. Though I don't know if there's much else you can do to 'I might not be standing by the end of this, please don't worry,'" they laughed, "That said... don't think I'll be  _ walking _ quite right for a bit either. Being excessively horny probably won't save me from the insides-rearranging that was." They snuggled up close to Patches, shivering a bit as they let themself soak in the contact. 

"Also, I... didn't send snaps, would never do that without asking first," Sticks said, a little quieter, trailing an amiable finger along Patches's jaw, "Private data shouldn't be shared without full, informed consent. Don't wanna be that kinda person to anyone. Anyway-" they shook their helm, "you got something in mind?"

##  **Betta132** **01/04/2019**

"Oh, you'll be fine. Trust me- I've taken bigger. And I mean that proportionately, or it wouldn't be all that impressive," Patches chuckled, lowering a servo to gently rub Sticks' stomach. "And I'll have to be gentle, don't want to make you any more sore. I could, mm- I could press up between your legs and lick you out, or suck you off, if you'd like. Or... I could show you one or three of my favorite toys. Some nice, gentle vibrations might be right up your alley. Heh. I have a few with suction cups, I could put one of those on my thigh and let you ride it. Mm, we could stick with just surface stimulation, lots of little nubs to grind on and slide against, or I could get a nice little plug to fill your aft port- that shouldn't be sore at the moment. Or I suppose we could do  _ both _ . Or I could give your spike some attention... maybe you'd like to try sounding? And I think I might have a spike sheath in your size if you'd like to frag something." 

Purring with some level of excitement, he wriggled a bit, reached over into his berthside cabinet, and contemplated things, fingertips tracing over some of his toys. "Mm. I don't think we'll need any extra lube. Unless you'd like to just get as messy as possible, I know  _ several _ people who like that. What do you think, hm? What sounds good to you? Or shall I pick something out?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/04/2019**

Sticks snorted, "Never been all that interested in messy, but I will say, being covered in lube would be an  _ appropriate _ way to end this," they nodded slowly and leaned back, letting their frame go loose but not limp in Patches's arms, "I'm game for... well, anything that doesn't require a lotta thinking from me. Gentle would be nice, I think, today's been a 'rough' kinda day. So, uhhh..." they squinted and tried to make a choice, "you know what go ahead and pick something, I trust you know what's fun. I'm hangin onto this hope I'll be out cold by the end of it. Don't- don't know I'll actually get to sleep today otherwise."

Sticks laughed a bit at the thought, "I'm gonna comm Forceps, keep them in the loop so they don't- yanno, freak out." If they were really going to do this, best to prepare in advance.  _.:Hey babe, still definitely alive and not hurt. Plan is not to leave standing up, though, so if I come out of his room sleeping, please don't worry, it's intentional and I'm very much for it:. _ they paused for a moment then reopened the link  _.:How're you feeling?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/04/2019**

_.:You're fragging someone who is... possibly my boss? The hierarchy in this medbay is not well established and seems to vary depending on situation. And I'm still not completely certain I trust him. Ignore my irrational concerns. I'm sure he's... fine. And old enough to know a great deal of tricks, I assume:. _ Forceps sighed, stretching comfortably, and set about cleaning themself up. 

Patches purred quietly and coaxed Sticks' frame up a bit further, snuggling down between their thighs, and kissed their node softly as he reached back to the nightstand. Hm. What would he use here? Didn't want to get anything too strong, or anything that would offer much of a stretch. And he  _ definitely _ wanted to be able to see Sticks' face for the whole thing. And have free use of both servos. So- ah! Winglets twitching up, he pulled out a little plug with a wide finger loop as its base, slipped it over one finger like a ring, and brought it up to stroke it through the fluids leaking from Sticks' valve as he kissed more firmly at that cute node. "Mm. Open up?" he purred, tapping the plug against Sticks' aft cover, and nudged his thighs further apart. Winglets up and quivering, he kissed the tip of Sticks' spike, then lapped at the slit for a few moments before taking the whole length into his mouth in one easy, practiced motion. He'd done this enough times, with bots of enough sizes, including much larger than Sticks, for this to be about the simplest thing he could do right now. And it tended to get some lovely noises out of someone.

January 5, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/05/2019**

Sticks straightened up at the attention, letting out a melodic hum. Their thighs instinctively twitched slightly against Patches's helm. Their optics half-closed, they sucked in a quick breath.  They sat just a bit back into his servos and opened their aft cover. After a brief pause to enjoy what Patches was doing, they resumed their conversation with Forceps,  _.:You forget he's my boss too:. _ they smiled,  _.:Isn't that a status thing? Fragging the higher-ups? A-:. _ they paused to softly gasp as Patches did something good with his tongue against their spike.  _.:Y-you wanna consider something more fucked, I'm a patient for both of you. Don't think too hard about it or you'll twist yourself in-in knots. Not-oh-:. _

Sticks blushed and felt their spike begin to pressurize again, "Pa-Patches that's- that feels good." They brought their servos down on top of his helm, one stroking the top, while the other made to rub around his audial. Where were they again? Right,  _.:Not that there's enough people left alive to really judge us. Like to see them try:. _ They really would. They'd defend Forceps where they could and if that meant giving dissenters the smackdown they'd do their best. They'd thought about this often, getting into heated arguments or fights in their head that they always won. It was difficult to pull out the fire they usually felt, though, with a talented bot between their thighs giving them head.(edited)


	16. Chapter 16

##  **Betta132** **01/05/2019**

_.:You aren't entirely wrong. There aren't enough of us for us to isolate ourselves from our patients and bosses like we technically ought to. I doubt anyone is going to complain about us wanting to have relationships. If they do, they can shut up about it. You sound like he's doing something good:. _

Patches gave a muffled croon, gently circling Sticks' aft port a couple of times with the little plug, then bobbed his helm and pressed the plug inside in the same motion. The toy wasn't anything tricky- no vibrations, no extra features, just solid metal. A small bit of pressure, of weight, an interesting sensation. Purring, he rocked the plug back and forth in tiny motions, bobbing his helm in long, slow motions and paying special attention to the head of Sticks' spike. He was good at this, he knew what he was doing, and he  _ knew _ he was good at this. 

Purring deep in his throat, he shifted to look up at Sticks, optics bright and glinting, purring softly up at him. He had the perfect expression for this- soft, pleased, genuinely enjoying himself. He  _ loved _ pleasuring his partners, in any form, and Sticks was- oh! Such a cute thing, and starting to make good noises. Revving his engine gently, he stroked up Sticks' thighs and hooked the smaller bot's legs over his shoulders, bobbing his helm in steady, even strokes.  _.:Oh, that's good- you taste delicious, and you're so cute! Keep talking, tell me how it feels- tell me when you feel good:. _ (edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/05/2019**

Sticks arched backward and felt their heels clack against Patches's back. They barely kept their head together enough to comm Forceps one last time  _.:Y-yeah. I'll- comm you later. L-Lo- oh-:. _ They shivered, thighs tightening for a moment around Patches. "Yes- yes that's- ah-" Their fingers grasped for purchase on his helm. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate. The sensations at their aft port were just distracting enough to make it difficult to think about anything besides what was happening at their hips. Their fans resumed their job as charge inched its spidery tendrils up their front. They closed their optics with a quiet groan "love you, Songbird," they mumbled. 

It took Sticks a few kliks to realize they had actually spoken that out loud, that their mushy message meant for Forceps had  _ not, _ in fact, reached them but had landed on Patches's audials instead. Before they could even think about covering themself they blushed so hard their face almost began to glow. They looked down at Patches, optics wide, hoping, sincerely, futilely, that he hadn't heard that. Not only were they now caught again comming someone while interfacing with someone else, they had... they blushed even harder, revealed Forceps's petname. Their vents caught as another wave of pleasure traveled through their frame, "oh-oh  _ fuck. _ "

##  **Betta132** **01/05/2019**

_ Oh! _ That was so  _ sweet _ ! Patches beamed around Sticks' spike, shifting his servo to rub his thumb against the smaller bot's node in the same motions as he rocked the little plug. Slow, gentle motions, just enough to slide the widest part in and out, a subtle little stretch. Humming a deep note to hopefully dismiss Sticks' embarrassment in favor of pleasure, he laved his tongue along the underside of Sticks' spiketip, bobbing his helm slowly, and arched his back slightly to offer his audials for Sticks to grip. They were short, solid, and durable, Sticks was welcome to grab his helm and push him down. He was more than strong enough to keep himself from being pulled down if he felt it was too much, but, mm, he'd had bigger bots be rougher with him and had handled that just fine. He'd been, ah, extremely social his first time through med school, and then, the second time through, he'd been the bot that younger mechs would go to if they wanted some tips or a demonstration. Besides- much as he loved a big bot with a big spike, a small bot who he could easily move, whose entire spike he could easily take without even really having to use any tricks on purpose, was so much  _ fun _ . And Sticks was so sweet! Ohh, poor awkward cutie. Engine revving, he shifted to rub an audial fin against Sticks' thigh, purring louder, then withdrew enough to tease at Sticks' transfluid slit with his tonguetip. People tended to like that. 

 

Five-Alarm didn't, couldn't, spend much time in the medbay. He made the other medics uneasy with all his upset energy. Tended to scare Red. But he had to  _ check _ , sometimes, make sure he wasn't actually needed. And it looked like today, he was! Primus, who had left that alone? Frowning slightly, he rather quickly approached Spade, circled around him to get a better look at that massive scar, and ran three scans in quick succession. "Hold still. Someone needs to treat that."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/05/2019**

Sticks couldn't keep a straight face as they saw Patches's smile, "ooooh don't look at me like that." They laughed, syncopated around their involuntary twitches as Patches pushed charge up their frame. They grabbed his offered audials and stroked them gently. They weren't really one to push someone onto their own spike, it'd happened a couple times to them but never to pleasurable ends. Plus Patches was doing a good job already. They didn't exactly know how to show him their appreciation, his equipment was way out of reach so they instead pet what they could. 

Softly petting the side of his helm, they shuddered and grinned, vents and optics hot, "keep on like that-" their hips bucked, pushing the tip of their spike into his lips. It had pressurized all the way now, "A-and you're-  _ ah _ -" they crowed as he rubbed their node, " _ hah _ you're gonna get- a- _ ah. _ " Sticks curled inwards, optics fluttering. Was it really necessary they finish their thought? Probably not. Praise didn't exactly come naturally to them, not as naturally as banter, "-a faceful of-of transfluid." They tried petting Patches's helm again but just ended up gripping, their fingers skittering across the surface. A quiet whimper, then another, and finally a breathless roar as they came. Their hips bucked as they thrust against Patches, squeezing his helm between their thighs. The overload rocketed through their entire frame and left utter exhaustion in its wake. By the time they were done, they shook slightly. The room spun around them. Their limbs felt leaden and the berth felt so,  _ so _ soft. 

They wore a triumphant smile as they closed their optics.

.

By the third day of their stay Spade had the lay of the medbay down. They were greatly discouraged from leaving, but that didn't bother them. Medbay doors had locks on them and the place wasn't exactly very populated, so it wasn't too bad waiting for their armor to be stripped of Trail's marks. It was cold, though, so they'd fixed up a bit of an outfit for when they left their room for energon- a wrap of sorts, made from long, ripped strands of blanket. They were quite pleased with their outfit, it covered their limbs nicely, though getting something to wrap around their wing assembly was a bit too complicated, after all they didn't deal in fabric production.

They spotted Alarm striding over to them and straightened up, narrowing their optics and tightening their grip on the two energon cubes in their servos. He had the demeanor of someone who was about to yell at them. They were allowed to self-fuel! Though maybe not to rip up blankets. They stood still and watched as Alarm drew close, ready to defend themself from- wait- what was he. Their optics widened as they turned around and took a few steps back, "Don't  _ TOUCH _ me- Who the fuck are you?"

 

Faceful of transfluid, no. Mouthful, yes. Patches trilled a happy but thoroughly muffled sound from between Sticks' thighs and bobbed his helm gently through Sticks' overload, swallowing every drop of transfluid. Lifting his helm and releasing Sticks' spike, he licked his lips and purred, attempting to offer Sticks a sexy look- 

But, oh, nope, he wasn't watching. Aw. Patches pushed himself up further, humming gently, and slunk up to snuggle against Sticks. Partially on  _ top _ of Sticks, in fact, offering his weight for comfort and warmth. Not that Sticks was likely to notice. Prurring, he cuddled them up close, taking a quick snap of Sticks' face, and sent it to Forceps. 

_.:I haven't hurt them. They can tell you that themselves when they wake up, but I didn't hurt them. They're very sweet:. _

Forceps twitched slightly at getting a COMM from  _ Patches _ , a stab of paranoia slicing up, but relaxed at the image. Oh. That- that was definitely... not concerning. Not that anything was concerning. A soft, deep sigh, and they returned the message, albeit rather slowly as they thought it over. They were... starting to like Patches, much as they didn't trust him.  _.:I... didn't expect you to hurt them. It seems out of character. And would not be smart, given who Sticks knows, and that I know where they are right now. I... don't think I actually... well. I have no reason not to trust you, except that... I don't. Something in me doesn't want to, and I tend to trust my instincts:. _

Patches automatically tried to pulse something friendly in his field, but realized that it was a rather silly thing to do and, instead, accompanied everything with casual glyphs. Always useful- they could indicate tone over COMMs more clearly than simple words could. Casual, friendly, calm, make it clear that he wasn't upset in the slightest. Forceps was professional enough that he didn't mind the suspicion- he could work with it.  _.:You aren't the first. I'm certainly not offended- I know half a dozen people who would be suspicious at first, meeting someone who acts like me. It's fine! I'll just try to win you over by continuing to not be evil:. _

.

"I am"  _ an emergency worker, a transport, safety, trying to help, a failure _ "a medic, and you are"  _ a mess, in danger, potentially about to die _ "in need of assistance," Five-Alarm declared, stepping in closer, not quite attempting to  _ grab _ Spade but absolutely attempting to herd them back towards a berth. "Hasn't anyone seen to you? You're  _ vulnerable _ , dear Primus, look at you, and you can't possibly be able to transform- get on that berth and let me work on that," he ordered, armor lifting up slightly to make himself look bigger, to lend more authority to his herding motions. It only somewhat helped, though. His plating was scarred and nicked, his paint dull with stress, medic's badges present but not brightly colonized with nanites, hollows showing under some of his plating as it spread. He looked hungry, he looked tired, but he was  _ focused _ . He needed to  _ help _ .(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/05/2019**

Spade narrowed their optics even further and took a few more steps back, "What do you think I'm  _ here _ for, dimwit. Not like I take vacations to this depressing place." Of course they couldn't transform, couldn't for a long time. Shrapnel from a stray blaster had broken one of their rotor blades long before they regretted becoming a spy, rendering their alt useless. The giant stab wound and poorly-healed scar were just a handful of pieces in the horrendous puzzle that was their frame. A couple seconds of looking could divine they were grounded even without their most recent pitiful acquisition of missing plating. They didn't  _ like _ looking this haggard, no, but they'd mostly gotten used to it. Not something they liked poked at. Their loss of flight stung more than anything that had happened to them, or it did, now it was second to having their frame desecrated by their ex-handler.

"Alright look." Spade said, backing up further in the direction of the door to their room, maybe a diplomatic approach would work for someone they've never seen, "I've been here for three days already, I've  _ been _ seen to and I'm not about to let a mech who looks like they just came out of a weeks-long sabbatical to a  _ rock tumbler _ do anything to me, medic or not. Been there, fucking done that. In fact, catch-" they tossed one of their energon cubes to Five-Alarm, an slow, underhanded lob, they did want him to catch it, couldn't waste energon, "you look like you need it more than I do, probably a better use of your time."

January 6, 2019

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

Five-Alarm did something a bit odd in response to the cube, a motion that probably would have been indefinable for someone without enough experience in watching others. Spade would likely see it for what it was, though- Alarm had, just for an instant, flinched away from the midair cube. He caught it, of course, no one still alive would chance wasting fuel, but he'd flinched. Odd, for a bot that much larger than Spade. He didn't keep the cube in servo- didn't need it. He'd fueled recently. Recently enough. This was more important, and he kept moving, winglets lifting high in agitation as he sidestepped a couple of times to try and herd Spade away from the door. He'd had to herd enough patients to be good at this. "Well, clearly, they're more inept than I thought here. This is  _ unacceptable _ , you are going to tear something open if you move wrong and you are incapable of escape if something tries to  _ eat you _ ," a quick shudder "so stop  _ moving _ and-" 

Rijght. He was taller than Spade, wasn't he? An instant of hesitation, stressed processor running overly slowly, then he crouched slightly in an attempt to make himself less tall and kept going. Still not touching Spade, just herding, attempting to coax, except that it really wasn't going to  _ work _ , was it? 

Never mind all the insults, this bot didn't seem to like them any, and was probably in some degree of pain. Might work best to fix that first.  Slowly advancing might not be best here. Therefore, muttering "not going to hurt you", Alarm crouched the slightest bit more, then made a grab at Spade. And he was good at this! Usually. But he was tired, and it showed in his optics and the weakness in his prickling field, and his grab was too slow to land.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

Spade registered, on some level, the fact that the mech approaching them was tired and clearly stressed, but their mind had no space for compassion as soon as he swiped at them, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME" they shrieked, wings shooting upward in anger while their optics flashed fear. Their entire frame bristled, pushing strangely at their wrapped bits. They quickly scanned around them and found a berth. Darting behind it, they kicked the side with all their strength to push it in Alarm's way. Should buy them a few kliks to figure out a better way out. This mech was trying to corner them. They weren't about to let that happen- not in this state. A few mental calculations and they figured they may be able to crawl under the berths quick enough to get around Alarm while avoiding his grasp. He was big, he was clumsy. Their escape route could work but they- they were  _ angry. _

"What the  _ fuck _ are you on, slag," Spade growled, looking defiantly at Alarm, "Nothing here to eat me except  _ you _ maybe. And I  _ know _ I could hurt myself- why do you think I'm trying to get away from you?" 

Spade crouched down, readying for their escape. The wraps on their legs didn't exactly make them the most agile but they risked actually hurting something if they took them off. Which they didn't want to do, at the moment, despite what other moods they'd had. They were small, though, and evidently a hard target. Making themself smaller would only increase their chances of making it out of this scenario alive-or-in one piece.  _ Primus _ they wished they had their knife back.

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

Alarm grabbed the berth, shifted to brace his pedes properly, lifted it, and turned it sideways, fully intending to use it as a wall. "Nothing in here  _ yet _ , but there are too many hungry things for you to look like  _ that _ , and you need to be able to transform, you need to be able to  _ run _ properly- you should be able to fly, that's good, you need to be able to do that. I am a  _ medic _ who has lived though this entire  _ burning slagheap _ of a war and I am not about to start killing patients now! I am trying to help you, hold  _ still _ -" 

That was an odd mixture of images. Alarm lifting a heavy and awkward shape with reasonable ease, fully intending to try and corral Spade with  _ that _ , could have looked threatening. Definitely looked threatening. Except that his armor was lifted in something between an inviting manner and a stressed flare, there was something thoroughly worried in his optics, and his voice sounded more frustrated and concerned than aggressive. "-and let me help! You must want to fly again, I can  _ do _ that, I can get you flying so you can get away from things and can  _ live _ , let me *help-"

Acus walked out of the side room slash workshop to find that, yes, Alarm was here again, yes, Spade was still here, and, not surprisingly, they were not getting along well. Winglets shooting up in alarm, he stepped further into the room and called "Five-Alarm!" in about the loudest voice anyone had heard out of him in  _ weeks _ , starting towards the larger medic but knowing better than to get within swinging range of that berth. Alarm didn't seem to notice him, though. "Alarm, what- what are you  _ doing _ , does that ever  _ work _ \- you- you don't hear me, what- oh, right, it's-" 

Pausing, he pitched his voice higher and into a considerably more stressed tone, and keened *medic!" at about the highest volume he dared. It sounded like a distress signal, and it  _ worked _ \- Alarm whipped around, starting towards him, and dropped the berth in favor of dealing with a potential patient who seemed more cooperative. It was  _ still _ unnerving to have a bot this size get near him, even someone he knew, but Acus stayed as still as he could for Alarm. Mostly because Alarm was  _ gentle _ \- scanning him without touching, servos near his frame as if to contain him, not grabbing or shoving.

After a moment to determine that Acus had just been using the trick that got his attention sometimes, Alarm grumbled and  _ glared _ at Acus, gesturing widely back at Spade, but regretted it a bit when Acus' armor clamped. Right. Don't scare him. Speak a bit more quietly.

He still sounded pissed, though. " _ Why _ is this bot in this  _ state _ ? That is unacceptable, someone should be  _ working on them _ , you're  _ here _ , why aren't you  _ doing _ something- you need to  _ do something _ ," he hissed, voice as soft as he could manage but still considerably angry-concerned, body language a very odd form of indirect outrage. He couldn't hide the outrage, but he could try not to aim it directly at Acus. He didn't want to  _ scare _ this poor thing, just... yell at him a bit for being irresponsible.(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

Spade's optics shot open at Acus's arrival. They backed up slightly in case Alarm didn't leave them but evidently Acus knew a trick. In that moment they wished more than anything they could have shown him their infinite gratitude for the opening. They turned their helm to the spot where Alarm had stood. There was a clear path to their door. But- Something caught in their vents. They stood still, watching the kliks Acus had bought them flow by as they clenched and unclenched their servos. They hated this. Nobody had offered them their flight yet. They didn't trust Alarm, not in the slightest. But he'd said just the thing that made something inside them want to reach out. If they were a weaker bot, maybe they would have fallen for it. They wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he would fix them and they'd be able to fly again, but there was no way. They knew what needed to be done to their frame in order to fix it and one mech could not do that. 

So they ran. Spade exploded from their crouch through the opening Alarm had occupied and sprinted straight to their door, clutching their single energon cube in a trembling servo. They weren't quite angry anymore, no, just hollow now instead. Maybe they'd try letting their emotions out in private for a change, might be nice.

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

"You- you can't just-" Alarm continued, but turned quickly at the noises, winglets lifting quickly as he saw Spade escaping. He almost made as if to go after them, too- until two servos landed firmly on his forearm, distracting him. Another flinch, and he stared down at Acus, glaring rather hard at the smaller bot's servos. "I need to  _ help _ . Someone needs to  _ help _ ."

"I know," Acus sighed, and held onto Alarm's forearm plating, firmly but not enough to start his servos aching. Not that he could actually restrain Alarm. "I know. We- we want to. But they've been through a lot, all right? They're dealing with a lot. They don't need to be repaired  _ right now _ , all right? It's safe. It's safe here. We can-" a pause, pricking his winglets in the most determined manner he could manage, "-can keep them safe until they're ready for the rest. A-and you- I  _ know _ you- you want to help, so do I, but... that won't work, what. Uh. What you did. It's-" 

He was starting to sway slightly on his pedes, looking everywhere but up at Alarm's optics, clearly nervous about  _ telling someone off _ but not nervous enough to stop. "-it's just going to make it worse. The stress. You- you have to be  _ gentle _ , to get people to  _ want _ your- your work. If- if you do  _ this _ , you make them want not to come and- and get repairs. Just. Let them go. We- we can fix it later. Please."

Hard to be angry at  _ that _ , a small bot with a soft voice speaking gently to him and holding onto his arm with delicate fingers to keep him in place. His anger wavered and faded slightly, then faded further at the use of  _ logic _ , and he grumbled and stared determinedly at absolutely nothing. He didn't admit any sort of defeat, but he  _ did _ sit down on the floor, looking away from Acus and lowering his plating. Yes. Fine. That made perfect sense. And would probably work better than the field medic strategy of grabbing a patient and focusing on keeping them alive. Sometimes you didn't have time to do anything other than capture a reluctant patient. No time to be nice when you were being shot at.

Acus gave him the tiniest smile, patting his arm, then let go and headed towards Sticks' room. With a quick detour to one cabinet to grab an energon cube, of course, because that was always a good idea. Standing slightly back from the door, he knocked lightly on it with the back of his servo, raising his voice just enough to hopefully be heard. "Spade? Hello? It- it's me. Acus. I'm- I'm sorry, Alarm is, uh- h-he has a form of anxiety somewhat common in- in field medics. He's done, ah, trying to- to capture you. If he wasn't, he would- would probably cut the door down. Now, I, ah... I-I do need to come and be sure you aren't going to injure anything. May I open the door? I-I have extra energon. And I don't need to touch you! Just... assess your mental state. If- if I may." 

A pause, then, sounding almost amused, "do you want to come and yell at him? You're welcome to."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

Spade was huddled against the other side of the door contemplating the all-too-familiar empty feeling when they heard Acus. That was fine. They were getting used to the mental assessments, the worried looks. They sighed and pushed themself up, "Come in." As the door opened to reveal Acus, they tried a bit of a smile, "thanks for the save." 

They paused and leaned to look past him at Alarm. The big bot was somewhat of a mystery. Sticks had a reason for looking the way they did, so did Red. Something was up with Alarm and it was probably something nasty. But he seemed to behave around Acus and conversely Acus seemed to moderately trust him. They looked back to Acus again and sighed, "Don't wanna yell at him as much as make him feel bad," They raised an eyebrow ridge, "let's do the check in front of him."

With that they turned around to grab a blanket from their nest on the berth and draped it over their shoulders, pushing down their wings so it would cover their entire back. Not only would it keep them warmer, but it shielded their backside from inquiring optics and on top of that made them look just the slightest bit sadder. They held a servo out for the energon and looked into Acus's optics,  _.:When I tell him I'm armed, it's a bluff. I haven't been able to find anything new since the last time someone checked up on me. I would appreciate if you didn't call it:. _ It was as much for Acus's sake as their own that they told him this. Didn't want to spook him. They liked Acus. He was small enough so that if his timid personality was an act, they weren't too worried about a fight. It was about as close as they'd get to trust.

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

_.:I really don't suggest you do that, he might take it as a threat to me:. _ Acus sighed, passing Spade the cube, and ran a quick scan before slowly, gently taking their wrist. Pulse wasn't wildly fluttering, Spade didn't seem unusually depressed or maniac. He seemed fine.  _.:Besides, I don't fancy your chances against him in a fight. I sincerely doubt you can intimidate him:. _

A quick visual once-over of Spade and the room, and Acus was satisfied. He hadn't strongly expected Spade to be about to hurt themself, but... always best to check. Winglets tucking down slightly in a calm gesture, he sighed quietly and glanced back to Five-Alarm, who was. Well. Pacing back and forth slightly, intently watching the both of them. "Five-Alarm was a field medic. Field medics... frequently don't have the time to reassure a patient, and often have to resort to capturing a patient. That, and he doesn't,  _ won't _ sleep. Which explains the. Ah. General state of his frame. You-" 

A pause, then he looked over his shoulder, winglets pricking slightly. "-you can't yell at me for being irresponsible about a patient who is in no imminent danger, not when you aren't trying to find a way to get yourself some  _ sleep _ !"(edited)

"Ah, fuckoff," Alarm muttered, pacing slightly closer, field completely absent but body language screaming stress. Spade was  _ vulnerable _ and he itched to fix, fix,  _ fix _ , servos twitching and fingers curling, forearm plating lifting out to display some of his folded-away tools.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

_.:Noted. May still pull it out, though, see what kind of reaction he has. Whatever happens, whatever I say, I'd never hurt you, that is not a lie:. _ Spade straightened up a bit taller and leaned a forearm against the threshold, "Ah, a hypocrite as well as a bastard, I see. Now tell me  _ medic, _ " they spat out the last word with healthy disdain, "What could  _ you _ do for me right this moment? You don't know where my armor is, you don't have the materials to fix my rotor blades- I know this for a fact, and I've been informed that the process of fixing my scar is a rather involved one. Meanwhile you're sleep deprived, starved, and in the middle of a significant batch of anxiety. I'd say you're an even worse candidate than Sticks about now and they barely qualify as a medic. Didn't trust them to fix my issues, you're deluding yourself if you think I'd even consider trusting you." 

Spade sat down in the doorway, it would be easy enough to slip in and close the door if Alarm made a run at them and they were as curious as they were bored, "I'll let you in on a secret, Five-Alarm, there's a  _ reason _ why I am this way right now, just as there's a reason why you're pacing out there, spewing some slag about me being eaten when this is easily the most secure place in this star system. You don't know best, despite what you seem to think."

The fibers of the blanket caught slightly in their mouth assembly as Spade pulled down the strip that covered their face and neck. When they were at last free, they bit into a cube and took a draught. They looked up at Alarm with a tired expression and again tossed the other cube in his direction. They wondered if they could replicate the flinch from earlier, possibly figure out what it was- whether sleep deprived inattention or something else. Spade looked serious as they spoke again, "Here's another secret, free, from me. You're not touching me right now. I'm going to sit here and drink my energon and I suggest you do the same."

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

"I've fixed worse on less sleep, and I'm not  _ starving _ , you little-" Alarm complained, bristling slightly, and- 

Repeated the flinch from before. Less so, but still there. It didn't seem to be about the energon, he held it easily enough as he stared at Sticks. More likely it was something about the  _ motion _ , he would be far from the first person to have issues with thrown objects and anything hurtling through the air in their general vicinity. Winglets still raised in an irritated manner, he slowly sat, optics locked on the smaller bot, growling quietly in the back of his throat. "I can  _ find _ your armor and I can  _ find _ the supplies, and I can improve your conditions. This ship keeps landing,  _ something _ is going to get on it eventually- do you have any idea what's been breeding around those old battlegrounds? And this is far from the only active ship! You need to be in shape to fight if pirates board, or to evacuate if someone shoots us down. No one is  _ safe _ , we're arguably the most hated species in the galaxy and we are  _ at war _ , there is no such thing as  _ secure _ and you are a  _ fool _ if you think there is! It's- it's nnot... you're not-" 

Alarm's helm lolled slightly and he blinked slowly, then ex-vented hard, shook his helm, opened the cube, and took a deep gulp of energon to keep himself awake. No. Bad time to sleep. So- so he'd just start, and keep, drinking. Couldn't fall asleep if he had energon in his throat, frame wouldn't let him. Might choke.

Acus looked back and forth at the two, then sat slightly off to the side of the door, following the lead of everyone else. That was his default of a sort, to go with what other people were doing. And to explain thoroughly. "He's technically not starving. He's fueled enough. It's just that he hasn't yet managed to replenish any sort of energon stores. But, yes. Sleep-deprived. And not entirely wrong about potential dangers, but... if it can get past the rest of us, you're doomed regardless," he shrugged, looking fairly calm at the idea.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

"Yeah exactly," Spade said, gesturing a shoulder towards Acus, "Besides I don't know where this business of me ppft- fighting comes from. Look at me, mech. Ignoring the lack of armor, do I look like I could take on a pirate?" They held their arms out, clutching the edges of the blanket in each servo so Alarm could get a good look, "I'm archivist-bred, and  _ tiny _ for fuck's sake, even at my best, I'd be out in one well-placed hit." They didn't like playing the size card- didn't like feeling weak- but it seemed the way the conversation was going, there went their 'armed' card, "I'll have you know, too, whatever's living on old battlefields doesn't scare me, got along just fine running from sandworms as thick as you are and longer than twice the medbay." Their optic twitched slightly, not a particularly pleasant memory, especially given their current state. They were determined not to let this aft get to them but could feel a kind of anxious tension begin to pull at their neck. 

Spade took another sip of energon and shifted around so they could lean their back on the doorway, their grin was gone, "Don't want to be like this. I'm not stupid. I know the risks. And  _ you _ don't know the whole story." they turned their helm to look into Alarm's face, optics steely, "I'm  _ not _ putting my armor back on now, nor will I let  _ you. _ You will not touch me today."

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

"So, what, I'm-" Alarm began, helm lolling slightly, then shook himself awake, growled, and thumped himself in the forehelm with the energon cube. "-supposed to ignore this? You being  this  _ vulnerable _ ? I am not trying to hurt you, I am trying to  _ help _ . Stop being stubborn, and let" a pause, and he moved slightly closer, "-let me help! Let- let me-" 

He started to get up, slipped, and landed back on his aft, winglets lifting up higher. Much higher. And they didn't just lift, they  _ spread _ , the plates fanning apart vertically as the hard-light projectors between them flared to life. Intermixed blue and red plumes of hard-light holograms spread out, and fanned his winglets out, letting them flutter slowly as the bio-lights along his frame flickered into dim, unsteady light. It was a bright, distinct display, medics' colors flashing and glowing brilliantly, broadcasting that he was a  _ medic _ . He was here to help, to make everything better. The display was normally meant to be reassuring, to be comforting, but now it looked  _ desperate _ . A silent plea to be allowed to  _ help _ .(edited)

"This is the best we can do, right now, Alarm," Acus reminded softly, lowering his helm softly, and pricked his own winglets in acknowledgement of the gesture. "It may not be completely safe, but it's safe  _ enough _ . We can give people proper long-term healthcare, we don't have to stick everyone back together with glue and send them off to fight again. It can wait. Armor and mental health first, then scar treatment and frame reconstruction," he explained, gentle, raising a servo slightly to Alarm. A quiet request for him to please,  _ please _ not come and grab Spade.

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/06/2019**

It would be hard to fake that level of distress, Spade thought, it would really be something if Alarm was lying right now. And it- it almost hurt. They didn't like seeing people this pitiful, knowing they weren't acting- they really didn't. They silently watched Alarm for a few moments then sighed and shook their helm. Setting their half-drunk cube down on the ground, they leaned to the side and slipped in their door. They hoped they wouldn't regret this decision.

A minute later they reemerged, carrying the blanket in one servo and a flattish piece of metal in their other. They took their seat again, this time carefully positioning the blanket against the floor and doorframe, creating a makeshift seat. They looked up wordlessly at Alarm and put the metal piece on the ground then pushed it over to him. No throwing this time, he was broken enough. It skittered across the floor and bounced his knee plate to land a readable distance in front of him. Spade spoke quietly, without their voice's signature edge, "My faceplate, not my mark. Lots of my armor's the same. Not all surface slag, too. All over. Figured out something was wrong only a few days ago. And..."  _ and then I almost succeeded in killing myself _ "and have been dealing with it since then. Or-" they sighed, putting their servo over their optics, "I'm trying to. Crucible's letting me melt off the signatures but I never get far before I... need to stop. But that... I don't even know if that's going to work." they sighed once again and curled up, putting their helm between their knees, the emotion was starting to chip away at them, "And I know I'm vulnerable. I know, okay. I've known my entire fucking life and I've tried to escape it my  _ entire fucking life. _ It's what got me into this mess in the first place." Their vocalizer was wavering now even though their face stayed dry, "I know what needs to happen to my frame to fix it. My rotors need to be forged, can't be welded back on or else they'll break at flight speeds. They need to be correctly weighted and shaped or else they'll throw my balance off or worse. The scar needs to be  _ cut _ out of me and then re-healed and I don't trust anyone competent enough to do that while I'm under. So it either means I try to stay conscious and watch someone cut me open or I deal with more of the same problem I'm having elsewhere. And then there's the armor..."

Spade fell silent, breaths becoming heavier. They were cornered in several places, there was nowhere really left to hide. They had to confront  _ something _ before they could move forward. They had explained this to Notepad during their appointments but had yet to truly come to terms with it. At last they retrieved their helm from their knees and looked again at Five-Alarm. Their optics looked close to breaking, "Alarm if there is something you can think of to help me, knowing all this, then please,  _ please _ do it. But you have to understand it is  _ not _ as simple as intention."

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

Alarm's winglets lowered as Spade retreated, then lifted again in a gesture of soft  _ hope _ when the smaller bot  _ almost _ approached him. Optics glinting, he let most of his bio-lights fade to a quiet background glow, lowering his winglets slightly and letting the plumes shrink down a bit. He kept them visible, though- still showing as much as possible that he really was here to help. These were the colors that would calm a patient as he dug them out of the rubble, reassurance that they were nearly safe, that he wasn't about to hurt them, that someone was here to help them. They didn't work as well on bots who weren't dazed and running on instinct, but the signal was still there. 

His optics locked on the plate as it moved towards him, some of the armor on his leg clamping down in response to the approach, but he didn't move otherwise as he picked it up. He listened, too. When someone was explaining their issues, it was best to listen. In this case, it revealed... just about everything. Frowning slightly, he ran his fingertips over the mark, inspecting it and its depth, then lifted his helm to not  _ quite _ look to Spade. Near them, somewhere in the vicinity of their shoulder. Maybe the lack of optic contact was good?

After some thought, they slid the plating back across the floor, then, slowly, reached into a specific subspace compartment that popped open along a significantly larger-than-average portion of his upper back. "First, I have something to apply, liberally, to whoever placed that mark," he muttered, and drew what could only be described as a war hammer from subspace. The handle was almost as long as his arm, thick and heavy, its upper half bedecked with firmly affixed trophies. Badges from both factions, shards of Insecticon plating, large teeth or claws, bits of what looked like trigger mechanisms, all tied and glued into place firmly enough to not break loose. Just below the head of the hammer was a joint-like mechanism, kept scrupulously clean, and the head of the hammer was engraved with burnt-in patterns on either side. He'd built it himself, and it was an intimidating thing, especially backed up by his strength. He didn't hold it as though he was going to use it, though- a grip with one servo near the middle of the handle, then he laid it across his lap, resting his arms on the shaft. "Or some form of scrap metal as a substitute, if they're dead. Destruction, when reasonably contained, can be cathartic."

A pause, looking Spade over with an optic for size, then he glanced towards Acus. "Smaller than average for a helio-alt, but it may still be worth checking battlefields for similarly sized rotors to transplant on. Something close enough in size could be shaved down. The armor- if doing them one at a time takes too long, don't. Chemical means could work, line it up with thermite or a similar substance over the marks, lay a string between all the marks, ignite it, and they all melt at once. Or something automated. Or enlist someone else. The scar can at least be cut into and filled with an artificial substance to improve flexibility. Or someone you  _ do _ trust could be shown how to cut it free, or enlisted to observe the procedure and ensure that nothing happens, or we could test with a lesser procedure if you can handle local anesthetics only for surgery. Some can." 

He was being offered an opportunity to  _ fix _ , and it helped. It helped so, so much. His body language softened up, and Alarm took a few more sips from the cube, fingertips tap-tapping lightly against it in small patterns as he thought. "The rest, you need a therapist for. That's not my job."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **01/06/2019**

"Ohh, everybody needs a therapist," Acus sighed, optics dimming slightly, and lolled his helm slightly to look to Spade again. "Field medics, and... every medic, didn't and couldn't put much thought of the long term into anything. For the longest time, it was... one battle at a time, one patient at a time. Keep someone alive, get them up and fighting, get them into a state where they'll only probably die in battle rather than absolutely dying as the other side overwhelms the base they're recuperating in. One battle at a time, then the other, don't focus on how much is ahead of you or you won't be able to  _ move _ under the weight of it all, just keep going. Had to keep going. There are a lot of bots with issues now from wounds that were repaired the  _ fast _ way instead of the  _ thorough _ way. It's... understandable. Practical. It's what has to happen. But it leaves a lot for us to fix now, and... I don't think anyone knows what to do when the entire population needs therapy and we have... ohh, Primus, maybe  _ three _ therapists who are alive. If that. And I know I, for one, never... expected to live this long. Never-" 

His voice hitched, hard, and he stopped talking.(edited)

Alarm's optics flicked to Acus, and he moved very, very slowly, approaching Acus specifically and trying not to direct any body language at Spade. A prod to one of Acus' subspace covers to get it open, and he reached carefully inside, fully aware of how small Acus was compared to him as he- 

Well. Did what he knew had worked before. Drew the first scarf he touched out of that compartment, shook the tangles out, and wrapped it around Acus' throat a few times. The third wrap went around his lower face as well, nice and loose, then he tucked the ends under and went back to his original position. The pressure and warmth seemed to help. Hopefully it would work here, because he  _ loathed _ seeing Acus anything but... well, "happy" was rare for everyone, but "neutral" or "tired from work" was the goal at this point

January 7, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/07/2019**

Spade sat up, feeling the room's pallor on their shoulders. They didn't normally deal well with others people's emotions, but Acus especially hurt to see. He was decent, timid but decent. The longer they looked at him, the more what he said seemed to sink in. They sighed deeply and let the back of their helm hit the doorframe. The feelings they had stowed away for later seemed to all come rushing back. They had done everything they could to stay alive. Between being a weak mech and being a spy, it would have been so simple for them to perish. So they'd twisted it, made it more complicated. Lie after lie after lie. Betrayal, too. Whatever it took. How many corpses, they wonder, were left in their wake? How many decent people did they doom? They didn't think they wanted to know. Did they expect to live this long? They'd never thought about it. Their only expectation was that they would die, at some point, like all spies do from the weight of their secrets. Their betrayals wouldn't matter when they were dead. They didn't expect to have to deal with the weight of their actions. Did they  _ deserve _ to live this long? That was a better question.

All answers came up "no."

But here they were, alive, metaphorically standing in front of a veritable mound of lifeless frames while physically leaning against a doorframe, crying on the floor of the medbay. Acus was crying too, or so they presumed. All they could manage was a broken-sounding hum in agreement as they felt the guilt wash over them. 

It took a few minutes for them to properly pull themself together. They wiped a servo over their optics with a heavy sigh, "I get that. In retrospect, I...  _ really _ shouldn't be alive," they frowned as a new stab of pain ran through their chassis, it felt natural, it felt... right, "But here I am, and here you are, Acus. I think there's something to be said about the wonderful privilege we're awarded as living beings of sitting on the floor together and crying."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **01/07/2019**

Acus' vents hitched once more, and he bundled both servos into the fabric, inhaling deeply to get the scent. He liked to wrap his scarves around parts of Scalpel's frame while they slept so they would smell like her, like  _ safety _ . Optics shutting for a moment, he sighed deeply and purred quietly, then opened his optics and blinked at Spade. "Oh. Goodness. Sorry, you- you're quite right. It's just... Primus,  _ nobody _ intended me to live this long! At- at least I have reasonable social coding, not like- like Doom, he's... ohh, don't tell him I said this, he's something of a mess in that department. We" a slight sniffling motion "we're  _ alive _ . We can figure this out. Hopefully. But, Alarm, we- we do have to- oh." 

Alarm was asleep again! Clutching his hammer in both servos, sitting up, but asleep. Acus considered him for a moment, then stood up, walked over to Alarm, and sat, leaning firmly against his side. He was firmly out of swinging range, he'd just be bumped to the side if Alarm started swinging, but he probably wouldn't be seen as a threat even when Alarm woke up and panicked. "Everyone is something of a mess in some department," he sighed, contemplating Spade with soft optics, and spoke quietly. "He's not wrong about... if the opportunity presented itself,  _ would _ you accept scavenged parts? It might be simpler than forging a rotor from scratch, if we could find something near your size." 

Acus hadn't been made to live this long, he'd been made to be a field medic who would probably be shot fairly quickly, but he was  _ alive _ and he was  _ here _ and he was  _ helping people _ , and the bots who'd made him this way were dead and gone. He'd  _ won _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **01/07/2019**

Spade looked from Alarm to Acus and lowered their voice, "Doom is brutish at best but he has time, we all do now." All that was left to do was to convince themself of the fact. They sighed and gestured towards Alarm, "Just wish this aft would realize it, too. Almost got me with that 'world is ending' mentality. Like, newsflash buddy the world  _ has _ ended. I don't know how we did it but our species managed to orchestrate our own apocalypse. We survived that, though, and I think we all deserve to use the time we've been awarded to take it slower now." They shook their helm and shifted a little further up on the doorframe, pulling the blanket over their shoulders again before finishing off the rest of their cube. 

Spade ex-vented slowly, "I... I guess. I mean, good luck finding frames like mine, didn't know... anyone with the same alt. And- I don't know if it'd work with just  _ similar _ pieces. Frame's built for precision, not durability, or  _ flexibility _ for that matter. And..." they grew silent for a few moments, "don't think I really deserve it, either- not someone else's parts." 

It probably wasn't something to lay on Acus, rather a thing to talk about with someone like Notepad, or perhaps one of the Choir, who they'd hurt directly. But he was here, and they still felt that stone in their throat when they spoke and maybe, maybe it was the time to talk about it. They deserved some sort of punishment for what they did. Losing their alt- losing their flight was just enough. They had come to live with the idea that for all they'd taken from those living on the sand planet, it was the least they could do not to protest the state of their wings. Trail's debauchery of their frame they didn't deserve, they knew that for sure, but the rest... they probably did.

##  **Betta132** **01/07/2019**

"Oh, he's- you- you'll see soon enough, he's not  _ capable _ of slowing down. He's... almost in something of a drawn-out panic attack about seventy percent of the time. It doesn't help that he doesn't sleep until his frame forces him to," Acus sighed, optics soft and sad. "He  _ was _ a lot more reasonable when he first got here, we had to sedate him for a procedure and his frame got some rest, but from what I gather he hasn't gotten enough sleep in  _ decades _ . It's not his fault that he's somewhat unstable. You would be, too! Though I think yours might manifest in more stabbing. Please try to get enough sleep to not become unstable."

A glance up at Alarm, who was, surprisingly, still asleep, then Acus aimed something that was nearly a glare at Spade. "Stop that. You- you are alive, and you are in this world, and like it or not that means you need to make yourself useful. What-whatever you did, if you must inflict a penance on yourself, make it something  _ useful _ . I mean it! No- no self-flagellation, no denial of fuel, sleep, or repairs, nothing even adjacent to self-harm, and none of this... flopping about claiming that you don't deserve things. It doesn't  _ matter _ . All that matters is what you can do, in- in the here and now, to- to try and make up for whatever you did. Letting yourself stay in this state is giving up, and you are  _ not _ allowed to give up!" he scolded, albeit rather softly, body language a bit... odd. Nonconfrontational, optics away from Spade, winglets lowered, almost looking deferential. An odd thing to combine with him scolding someone. Old habit from when he'd wound up halfway scolding authority figures, to make it register less as a scold and make them more likely to listen rather than simply bristling in response.

Alarm finally stirred after a moment, but didn't actually wake up. He did, however, slump over sideways, prompting Acus to check his pulse, and hook an arm around the smaller bot. He then proceeded to shove his face into Acus' back and huff rather loudly against him.

"-oh dear."

January 8, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/08/2019**

It was hard to stay down on themself when their conversation parter was being treated like a stuffed toy. They had more to think about, now, but the distraction of a captured Acus was too great. They tried with only mild success to stifle a chuckle, "You-you alright, Acus? You want me to help break you out?" If Alarm had his servos occupied with Acus, this would mean he'd have less of a chance at catching them. They decided to venture slightly closer, getting up and keeping the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. They kept low, still, as they approached Alarm's frame and quietly circled around him. He was significantly less intimidating when sleeping. In fact he'd almost be pitiful, all dull paint and dented plating, if he weren't still cradling a murder weapon taller than they were and likely almost as heavy. It was impressive, though, they noted as they came back around to the front. Perhaps something to ask him about later.

_.:Wow he really is asleep, huh:. _ Spade remarked, not confident enough to actually speak this close to an armed sleeping bot. They inched closer until they got within rescuing distance of Acus and held out a servo. They looked nervously up at Five-Alarm's face for a moment before addressing him again  _.:You're right, too. I need to do better. I need to be a worthy successor of the lives I've taken. It's just a lot to think about right now:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/08/2019**

Acus squirmed for a moment, but only to get comfortable, and relaxed back against Alarm's frame.  _.:No, it- thank you, I'm- I'm quite all right. I haven't seen him this soundly asleep since he was in a medically induced coma. You- you may want to back up slightly in case he wakes up and sees you, but, no, I'm... I'm fine. He isn't hurting me. I'm probably the only reason he's asleep this soundly, and I don't mind:. _

Alarm huffed again and shifted, the hammer winding up along the floor as his arms wrapped around Acus instead. One forearm pressed to Acus' front, the other arm around him, holding carefully but just firmly enough to keep a grip on him. Some part of his sleeping mind evidently registered that the warm being he was snuggling was delicate, possibly even recognized Acus. It actually looked fairly comfortable- Acus could comfortably lean against Alarm, curled up a bit, and Alarm's ventilations were deep, steady, and calm. After a few moments, he shifted a bit further and engaged an interesting little minor transformation, some of his chassis and flank plating sliding aside and outward. It left his spark heavily covered, still, but wound up with a hollow in his chassis area and some projecting pieces of armor. The intent was that he could curl over a patient if, say, a building he was in began to collapse further. He was very solid, after all, more than suited to be a shield.

"-oh! That's- I haven't seen one of these in a long time, classic first-responders adaptation," Acus commented, and shifted around, entirely comfortable with being snuggled into the hollow space. It was warm, he could monitor Alarm's -rapid, but steady- sparkrate and pulse, and he felt... safe. That was the intent here, after all. And Alarm wasn't going to hurt him! "I- all right, I suppose I can just stay here. I don't have anything to do that's more important than making sure Alarm gets some sleep for once," Acus shrugged, and leaned out enough to pat Alarm's cheek. No response. "He's  _ out _ . Good!"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/08/2019**

Spade straightened up, cocking their helm slightly in curiosity, "Huh I guess he really is out," they let their arm hang by their side again and shrugged, "better you than me. You-umm, you know what, here." It seemed about right, they thought as they took their blanket mantle off their shoulders, to offer the sleeping mech something. The blanket was getting in their way anyway. They backed up a bit, slowly, trying to formulate a plan to place it somewhere meaningful. It wasn't exactly a big blanket, one of the ones cut for their size, but it was warm already and should cover  _ something. _

Spade circled around him again, this time stopping to squat for a moment and safely admire the sledgehammer, trailing their fingers over its trophies. Too heavy, too imprecise for their tastes, but they'd admit it was  _ something _ to look at. They wondered if they'd get to handle a weapon of their own again or if they'd squandered the chance with their whole ordeal. Once satisfied, they continued their circuit, eventually settling for pulling a berth over to stand on top of and then aiming the blanket over his shoulders. It fell over his winglets but seemed to stay there. With a satisfied half nod, they climbed down and disappeared into their room again, only to return a few kliks later with an armful of pillows that they placed strategically around his frame. The last pillow they leaned over to hand to Acus, revealing a datapad they had clutched close to their chassis the entire time underneath the pillows.

Spade slowly backed up and surveyed their work. It was... minimal. But it was something. A simple thing that maybe would make Alarm's time easier. They'd spent too long sleeping in a cave to watch someone now sleep on the floor with  _ nothing. _ They decided they were satisfied and backed up until they felt their wings touch the wall. They turned it on and fished the stylus from its pouch they'd built out of boredom. They sat down against the wall with a smile on their face, "Mech comes in here, bullies me into telling my entire medical history and then falls asleep," they chuckled softly, almost fondly, "what a sham."

##  **Betta132** **01/08/2019**

(not done, clearly)

(cat on keyboard)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/08/2019**

(loll no kitty!!)

 

Alarm still didn't move, not for any of it, aside from lowering his winglets under the weight of the blanket. The only thing he stirred at was a surge of approval from Acus' field, aimed at Spade, which got a quiet snuffling noise and a slightly harder ex-vent out of him. The slight movement also let Acus sneak one pillow under his helm, which left him looking... actually rather comfortable. Still on the floor, true, but he was surrounded with warm things.

"He came in here earlier and accidentally threatened Soundwave with an axe. Alarm is... a lot," Acus sighed, hugging the last pillow to himself. "He's doing his best. From what I've seen, he is actually a very skilled medic! And he's not stupid. He's just very stressed right now, afraid of what might happen to someone if they can't fend for themselves, and... I think it's been a long time since he's been able to really help anyone. That's not good for medics," he explained, softly, glancing down slightly at Alarm's face. The stress lines were still there, but starting to smooth out a bit. "I'm sorry he upset you so much. He really wasn't trying to hurt you. You know, I-I did think it might help if he'd just... sleep near someone, might help him rest, and it seems to be. I'm glad. Though I'm not sure what I'll do if he's out for awhile, I-I really can't hope to lift him. I'd have a hard time lifting just his hammer! It's- look at this." 

He was definitely feeling good today, Acus noted absently, leaning out slightly to examine the hammer. "This area here- it's a mechanism to help impart all the force from a blow into the target, and none of it back along the shaft into his servos. He wouldn't be able to land another blow if not, the feedback would probably... ow. I don't want to think about it. Big as he is, he still has medics' servos-  _ sensitive _ ."

Alarm snuffled again, groaned, and ex-vented softly, a rather muffled sneeze, then went more or less silent again. There was the slightest purr in his engine this time, though, a contented noise.

Another moment of watching Alarm, and Acus smiled, just slightly, his voice ever-so-soft. "I. Think I'm... starting to like this... concept. Mostly it's Patches who- who lets others hold him for comfort. This is. It's nice. It's warm, and... I-I like that he's... he's a lot calmer. That's good."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/08/2019**

Spade's eyebrow ridges hitched up at the detail about Alarm's hammer,  _ definitely _ something to ask him about later, then. Energy deflection tricks like that could really end up packing a punch if combined with other things. They hadn't exactly built something with shock absorbers meant to deal with sensitive servos before, perhaps his approach was different than what they could come up with. They leaned back, letting their helm clink against the wall and stretching their wings out to to the sides. They sighed heavily and grinned at Acus, "You should do like he does. It's a good idea, have a big bot and a small one. Choose your ideal size. Might be nice to make a list or something for people. An 'okay-to-cuddle' list. Sounds like something Sticks would sign up for, too, cuddly... bastard..." Spade's smile faded. They slowly laced their fingers across their forehelm and closed their optics for a few moments against the weight on their spark. 

Sticks was the one Choir member they hadn't told their true nature to yet. At first they thought their sleep was a blessing, but by the second day of waiting they found it was just delaying the inevitable. They'd asked the other members to keep it private so they could tell them themself when they got the chance to. Still the only one to have visited them the entire time since then was Burner, who'd brought word that Salvo was 'still thinking about it,' Draft was mad, and Bowline she couldn't quite tell. Sticks was the one unknown left, and arguably the most personal of them all, "I still have to tell them about... this. Any... any changes today?

##  **Betta132** **01/08/2019**

"No changes in you, no, none that I've seen," Acus hummed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Though, at this point, I'm convinced that you aren't in immediate danger of harming yourself. You don't seem- oh. You- you meant Sticks. Ah. They're awake, and seem well enough, albeit. Ah. Energetic. I'll. Leave it at energetic. They are..." a pause, looking around the medbay as he recalled various noises he'd heard earlier, "in Patches' room? Probably they're... ah.. busy. I would" hm. How did one say "don't bother them, they might be interfacing" without... at least hinting at the interface? Acus frowned very slightly, contemplating it, and settled for not elaborating at all. "-I would not bother them. Tell them later. In person. Try to keep them from striking you with their servos if they get upset enough, I doubt they'll remember to be careful of the sensors, and they need to get in the habit of being careful of their fingertips  _ before _ they get the upgrades," he suggested, snuggling down into Alarm's grip, then glanced up abruptly. "-ah- not to sound unconcerned with you. I would prefer no one strike you. But I doubt Sticks could do any serious damage to you, or would be inclined to do so. They may be inclined to punch you, however. Which I think would be reasonable enough. Nothing past that- you don't deserve to be... mangled or crippled or left for dead, but those of your group not of a size to seriously damage you would... not be unreasonable in expressing any emotions in a... physical manner. Though perhaps not right now." 

Alarm snuffled almost adorably, whuffing heavily through his vents, and began to slowly pet Acus' chassis with one servo as the little medic changed the subject. "What- Alarm, are- oh, fine. Spade, what are you drawing?"

January 9, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/09/2019**

Spade took a shuddering in-vent. Something in them strained close to breaking. They could feel the phantom blows against their chassis. No, Sticks couldn't do anything to them physically. Their servos and arms were still weak and on top of that their frame simply wasn't built for hurting. Nor would they, in all their time they'd never seen Sticks raise a servo against someone with the intent to hurt. Even before they took up their occupation as a medic- before the war, they never had it in them. If the confrontation came to be the first time Sticks lashed out at someone in anger, they were a worthy target. The image stuck like a thorn in their chassis, tracing its delicate, rapier tip against their scar.  _ Make sure they don't hurt their servos. _ Yeah they could do that.

"At least they're okay," Spade mumbled finally, voice weak. They took a deep breath and cleared their throat, "Drawing- yeah, well I'm not very far but it's going to be you and Alarm." They flipped their datapad around to show what looked to be a sparse mess of lines, emotions had gotten in the way, "I've been using this pad to draft things before I build em, only recently got into the life drawing practice. Found I-hm, haven't really had it in me to construct things these past few days. Life drawing's a little better." They sat up a bit and turned the pad back around, wiping a servo across their optics, "Of course if you rather I wouldn't draw you that's okay. Your image is yours after all." They looked down at their work, picked up their stylus again, and resumed observing Five-Alarm. After a few moments of silent thought they nodded softly, "what do you think he's dreaming of?"(edited)

##  **Betta132** **01/09/2019**

"I... wouldn't know. Possibly nothing, he might- might be out too deep. Or... nothing in particular, flashes of images. Dreams are complicated and strange," Acus shrugged, and watched the motions of the stylus for a little while longer. "And, no, I-I don't mind. That's new, but... all right. Are- are you-" 

Something was wrong, and Acus pushed himself up a bit further, eyeing Spade's expressions. "I'm sorry, did- did I say-? Are you...  _ oh _ ! Oh, no, I-I didn't- Spade, I didn't mean that- oh, goodness, no. I didn't mean that- that Sticks should be allowed to  _ hurt _ you, or that they would  _ want _ to, only- let- let me-" 

Optics wide and distressed, suddenly looking as terribly young as he actually was, Acus attempted to COMM Spade a few quick vid clips of what exactly he meant. Mostly, they were of Scalpel, wearing a fairly annoyed expression, smacking someone or another up the side of the helm with whatever happened to be in her servo. Never  _ hard _ , clearly, never actually meant to do any damage.  _.:Some people respond to certain amounts of frustration in- in very physical ways, and that is all I meant! Not any- any actual damage, or- or intent to hurt:. _

Ohh no. Oh, that hadn't come across right at  _ all _ , he'd- he'd just seen multiple people, not limited to Scalpel, smack each other out of annoyance. Sometimes people did that. Sticks might do something like that if sufficiently annoyed, and it would be reasonable for Sticks to be upset enough here to smack Spade with something. He really hadn't meant- ohh no. 

Alarm evidently picked up on the upset on some level, because he growled, audibly  _ growled _ , and curled into himself slightly, gathering Acus up further.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/09/2019**

"Look-I-yes- I know- I know what you mean," Spade shook their helm at the barrage of images, their voice still wavered slightly, "It's- it's okay Acus- calm down. Look, even-" they gestured towards Five-Alarm, "even Alarm thinks you should calm down. It's alright. It's-um," they paused for a klik, gathering their thoughts, "It's more than just what you said. It's... just a hard picture to imagine on top of knowing I have to tell them I was partially responsible for everything bad that's happened to them. I don't... I haven't figured out really how to say it."

Spade buried their helm in their knees, "I've known them for a  _ long _ time, Acus. They don't get angry easily, and when they do you... you know something's wrong," their wings rattled against the wall with a shudder, "I've never seen em get angry enough to strike someone. But it'd definitely be warranted. I-I mean  _ I _ would, all I've done," a sigh, "If I were on the other side I would have hung me out to dry, pushed me out the airlock, took me apart till there was nothing left. But they'd never, they'd  _ never _ do that. It's..." they trailed off, retreating from their knees to look sullenly at the wall, "part of why I liked them so much." Any other day they would have switched the topic rather than talk about this, but today had been difficult. They couldn't quite keep up their cool personality when they'd spent the morning staring and shaking at the pile of their armor in the corner of their room.

##  **Betta132** **01/09/2019**

Acus ex-vented a bit harder, clicking his fingertips together, and slowly relaxed back into what was now basically a nest of buff medic. "Ohh. Goodness. Spade, you... you need to stop with- with that. The guilt. It's- it's useless. If- if you think you needed some sort of punishment, you've been through... far, far more than ever would have been a fair retaliation. Consider yourself absolved. And... stop. You... you won't help anyone with that. It won't make anything better. Put- put it away, stop, and- and try to help people. In any way you can. That's... there was a war, and- and a lot of people did- did  _ awful _ things. Lingering on that only... only leaves everyone wallowing in a pit. It's- it's hard to do much if you're in a pit. Breathe. Put it all away." 

He'd started to speak in a slightly odd way, optics a bit unfocused, thinking about something- and, specifically, his tone and voice fluctuating just a fraction into something more like Notepad's. That was who he'd gotten a lot of this from, and it was a tendency he had when uncertain- echoing someone reasonable, including tone. He didn't know what to do here, he didn't know how to help, but that was the best he had. It made  _ sense _ . "You- you aren't the only one on this ship who's done... something they never should have had to do. You're far from the only one. If you're willing to try to help people, or to just... try to live, you- you can say. Just. Breathe, please? I don't... I don't think they're going to... I-I think they'll forgive you, I'm- I'm sure you've saved them enough times. And the- the others. Spade, tell- tell me what the others have- have thought, have done, about- about what you did."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/09/2019**

"M-maybe..." Spade sighed, easier said than done by a long shot. They could deal with the guilt before because nobody knew. They could safely hide it away in some unspeakable corner of their processor and never even have to look at it. Now they couldn't pretend they weren't who they were: Mercator, Decepticon spy. They noticed Acus's inflection change and looked up at him to see if something was wrong. He... almost sounded like Notepad. They sat up slightly and grimaced as they realized they were venting not only to someone who didn't ask to handle their problems, but a  _ kid _ at that, "Primus, Acus I'm sorry, this isn't your job to fix. Should... save it for therapy instead. I'm just... I'm not expecting their forgiveness, is all."

Spade blinked slowly and spent a few moments focusing on breathing. Eventually they looked back down at their datapad. They wondered if Acus had ever seen himself drawn. And they thought about what he said. They had to admit, helping people was objectively more productive than simmering in guilt. They liked that idea, making themself useful. Nobody quite expected that of them now, and they didn't need forgiveness to do that. Now if only they could concentrate on that instead.

Their lips were pressed into a tight line as they looked up again and this time focused on Acus. There was something very comfortable about him right now that would be nice to capture. They'd do it for him and maybe send it to Scalpel as well. Their servo eventually steadied out as they relaxed. Their optics flicked over to Acus every so often, resting on him for a few kliks before they returned to their drawing. Now if only that contented look would come back...

##  **Betta132** **01/09/2019**

"I'm a  _ medic _ ," Acus prompted softly, his voice returning back to his own, and offered Spade a tiny smile. "I've, uh. It- it took me some time to learn about... boundaries, about what is and isn't my job. Scalpel's been helping me with that. I'm still learning. But, Primus, there's- there's so few therapists  _ alive _ , medics kinda have to try and fill in a little bit. And I can- I can at least give you advice. It's okay if you don't want to talk, but... one more thing, okay?" he requested softly, voice quiet, optics gentle. "There's a few people who are... getting used to new names, I think. New mods. You have a chance now, now that it's... as safe as anything can be for our species, to... basically, to decide who you want to be. You've been... at least two people, I guess. Did you... did you like whoever that was before, more, or do you like who you are now? Or... would you rather be someone else? I-I don't think anyone's stopping you, there's no... heh. No laws to tell you that you can't just... change into someone new. There's... heh, what, two or three laws? And none of them are about this sort of thing. I'll- I'll stop talking about it now, I'm- I'm not your therapist."

He watched for a little while, contemplating the motions of the stylus, then turned away slightly to inspect the seams inside Alarm's chassis hollow. "Wow. This is... really durable, around the edges. I suppose it has to be. His alt, his frame- he's born to be a disaster medic, going into burning buildings and the like. You'd find bots of his frametype around fire trucks. Part of the job includes things falling on you a lot. Which is why it would be a bad job for  _ me _ ." 

With nothing in particular to contemplate other than interesting anatomy, Alarm relaxed easily enough, settling back into Alarm's frame. It helped that Alarm was still purring, deep and intense. Tucked up into a space meant to protect, surrounded by pillows and strong arms, with Alarm purring against his back, in the medbay - _ his _ medbay- no less, it would have been hard not to feel safe. So... he did. And, the next time he turned to watch Spade, his optics were soft and his winglets were relaxed again. "He's. Do you, um. Want to get any closer? He's... he is  _ out _ , and I think it's going to take him some time to register anything if and when he wakes up. Do you want to... come and try out this... very  _ buff _ nest?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/09/2019**

"You know I think I have to at least try it. But I gotta... gotta finish this first," Spade said, grinning just a bit when they noticed Acus relax all the way. They were getting close to finished- well as finished as a drawing of theirs would ever get. It wasn't bad, they thought to themself as they drew in the defining lines of Acus's face. Or- it was okay until they did that. A quick grimace and they undid those strokes. They tried again, little success. The third time they went line by line and stopped, wings perking up a bit as they found something that didn't look off. Sure, if you looked at it by itself it kinda looked like a power outlet, but in context it almost  _ almost _ looked like a face. Not one to squander a good opportunity, they took a few minutes more and defined enough of Alarm to be able to tell it was him curled around Acus.

The entire time they mumbled, "buff is  _ right. _ You never quite see how absolutely stacked someone is until you have to look at them for extended periods of time. Can't imagine being built to have big heavy things fall on you, wish I was that durable," Spade spoke up a little more, just the slightest bit peeved, "I'm a  _ drone _ made for city planning. Got a camera, used to map elevation changes and let me tell you, flight with four rotors is  _ tricky. _ All need to be going the same speed so I don't crash. Even light wind! Couldn't go out. My first injured blade was snapped clean in half by a flying stone! It wasn't even that big! Hit it at the wrong angle while I was in the air and there it went. Wish I had that level of armor, fuck." 

Spade spent a great deal of time holding out the datapad, rotating it, squinting at it, until they allowed themself to call it done. They gently tucked the stylus back in its place and stood up to walk slowly over to the pile of mech. They slowed down as they approached. Not only was it silly to climb in on top of someone, they could feel a small level of apprehension. It would be hard to mess with someone when so thoroughly asleep, but the proximity left a creeping feeling. They scoffed at themself and climbed in, slowly, carefully positioning themself next to Acus and setting the datapad on their lap where he could see. They were tired of being afraid.

##  **Betta132** **01/09/2019**

"Don't be mean. We're having a conversation, you aren't a drone. We have actual drones here, they're little cleaning bots," Acus hummed absently, gesturing slightly to a slot on the wall at floor level. "Back there. They come out at night and when it's quiet, scrub things a bit. Nonsapient, of course. Arguably sentient. No sparks or anything. At least you can fly when healthy, though- I think I'd like that. I'm delicate and I can't even get up out of the way of things." 

Alarm was big enough that a hollow designed to protect anything pressed up against his whole chassis-front could practically have been a little reading nook for Acus, if he didn't mind being curled up. Definitely enough room for Spade, given that Acus didn't mind them touching him. He didn't think they were a threat. Besides- he could wake Alarm up if he had to, if Spade turned out to be a threat, but he really doubted that would happen. Pushing aside that twinge of anxiety, he leaned in slightly to look at the drawing, then offered Spade a tiny, pleased little smile. "Oh. That- that's nice. I don't... I really don't see much art, I never have. Not intact. I've only... the- the only newer things I've seen have been from Crucible, or Reaver, or lessons related to them. And they don't tend to... well, Crucible doesn't- he doesn't draw. Reaver draws some, and paints, but he does" a pause, servos flapping slightly and grasping at the air as Acus looked for terminology he didn't really have, "-he does, ah, realism, but- exaggerated, just a little. A lot of really...  _ grand _ things, like religious things. It's the art he grew up with, I suppose. Crucible, I-I don't know, he just... makes shapes he likes, or sculptures of  _ things _ . This- I-I don't know what to call this. But I like it," he decided, quiet, winglets pricking slightly at Spade. He still looked a bit timid, as usual, but he was talking. And it was drifting over into...  _ shy _ , almost, not timid. Not afraid. Just a little unsure.

January 10, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/10/2019**

Spade couldn't help an involuntary shudder at the feeling of someone next to them. Even as it faded away, they still trembled slightly. Ridiculous. Preposterous. They frowned, their field flickering just the slightest hint of annoyance at themself. And then there was Acus, they could feel his timidness from this close, what could he reasonably do to them? All things considered, nothing they hadn't dealt with before and they were fairly certain a loud enough yell would spook him enough to safely retreat-  _ if _ his fragility wasn't an act. They weren't going to think about the mech they were sitting on, the thought of taking up residence in someone's chassis was weird enough. They were going to be stubborn. The only way for them to regain their trust in people would be to give it out and see if they broke it. Acus made for a good start, at least he wasn't big enough to hurt them.

With a defiant huff, Spade wiggled in closer to Acus, still trembling. They began to carefully lay on a few layers of artifice. Their first act was to purposefully relax their limbs as much as they could while slowly shifting into a casual position. It was a rather practiced gesture but well-practiced nonetheless. Then they relaxed their face to a neutral but contented expression. Their optics did most of the work, softening considerably while their mouth, that was usually hidden, simply formed itself into a straight line. The best they could do considering their faceplate was somewhere on the floor. They didn't want to seem as stressed as they were to Acus, who already had his own things to deal with. They turned to look at him, staring for a few moments as they brought a finger to their chin. They narrowed their optics, looking him up and down and then finally spoke, "I think I could lift you if you wanted to fly. You look light enough. Would need a lot of practice beforehand, but you just get a net or hammock of some sort, hook it up to me, climb in and we'd be off. Probably a pretty comfortable ride, all things considered. You'd need to be pretty still though."

They looked down at their datapad and scoffed, "Figures a big and beautiful bot would draw big and beautiful things. Don't know how  _ useful _ big and beautiful is after everything that's happened but I'll let Reaver do Reaver. This is..." they cocked their helm and turned the datapad again for show, "it's nothing right now, really. No intent aside from trying to capture a moment. I mean snaps would do the trick but you can't really get emotion in a picture too well." They guessed Acus hadn't had the education on the arts as thoroughly as they had- even if they forgot the vast majority of what they'd learned in training. They could bluff their way through this if it came to questions.

##  **Betta132** **01/10/2019**

Spade was shaking. They didn't keep shaking, but they were, at least for a moment. Right- spies were paranoid. They had problems being touched sometimes, and being near people. They also didn't like it when you pointed that out. Therefore, Acus did  _ not _ point the unease out, but he did take measures against it. He'd been keeping his field tucked up tight out of a mixture of politeness and nervousness, but he let it unfurl a bit, thrumming soft  _ reassurance/friendliness/companionship _ . There was an underlayer of  _ uncertainty/shyness _ to it, but nothing concerning, as it was definitely just an underlayer. A tiny flicker of  _ amusement/concern _ at the idea, too. "Oh, goodness- no, thank you, I'm- I-I  _ am _ a grounder. I'm not great with heights. It's not- frame stereotypes exist for a reason, you know, and- and it's not all bigotry. Fliers don't- don't tend to like confined spaces, grounders don't do so well with heights, it's all hooked up to instincts meant to keep us safe. I- thank you, again, but... no thank you. I'll- I'll pass. I might get dizzy, besides, I'd- that seems like a bad combination," he chuckled softly, optics slightly brighter than usual and definitely friendly. 

After a moment, he gathered up a couple of pillows and the edge of the blanket, tucking them more firmly into the compartment that was now well and truly full of bots. Made things nice and comfortable. It sounded nice, too- Alarm's lifesigns in the background, slowing and steadying further as his frame began to sort itself out, and that deep purr laid over all of it. No indications he was about to wake up, either, or was going to wake up in the next few minutes. Might not wake up in the next few  _ hours _ .

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/11/2019**

Spade's smile widened slightly, an expression of genuine happiness. It was good to see Acus like this. They decided to test themself further and actually sat back, folding their wings in so they could properly lean against Alarm's front. It would be difficult to even begin to pretend this was like sitting with their back to a wall. For one thing, walls didn't purr. What was almost more disconcerting was that Alarm wasn't backed against a wall, but was rather sitting asleep in the middle of the room. In the case of a malicious intruder it was... well it wasn't  _ likely _ they'd be able to stab through all of Alarm's back plates and skewer them but it certainly wasn't  _ impossible. _

It wasn't what they'd expected though. Spade looked around the space. Alarm didn't seen the most vulnerable bot even with a great deal of his chassis armor moved away, but still, their position now was built on trust. Against their expectations they actually began to feel some of their latent tension bleed out. They didn't think they could  _ sleep _ here necessarily, but it was warm- warm enough to make them want to take off some of their wraps. They stole a quick glance at Acus to check he wouldn't act rashly and slipped a finger under the cloth at their shoulder. After a few quiet moments of unwrapping, they flexed their arm to check over their muscle cables for any damage. Mildly satisfied, they did the other arm as well and bundled the wrappings up so they made a workable pillow, which they stowed behind their helm. They propped the datapad up on one knee and looked over to Acus, a genuine smile on their face "You wanna see what else I have saved?"

##  **Betta132** **01/11/2019**

Acus flickered quiet approval, but didn't move any or try to touch Spade, they probably wouldn't want that. He just offered that tiny, brief smile again, optics brightening a fraction, then looked down at the 'pad. "Sure, ab-absolutely. Is, uh. Is this a new hobby, or...? Because I have, uh, sort- sort of a new thing. It's- here." 

Humming softly, he pulled his latest little project from subspace and showed it to Spade. It didn't look like... anything in particular, really, aside from the set of tiny helicopter rotors draped across its top. The rest of it was fairly round, with a little wind-up key on the side. He gave the key a few quick twists, winding a spring in the center, then let go- and it lifted off, just slightly, emitting a quiet buzz as it hauled itself a foot or so into the air. It quickly ran out of energy, though, and plopped back into his servo. "I'm trying to, uh- perfect the amount of energy so it doesn't... so it goes places, but doesn't, y'know... shoot off into who knows where. First one I made here, uh... nearly got Scalpel in the optic. So. Not great!"

Red was feeling... a lot better, overall, but still a bit anxious. And they'd been thinking, more than they'd particularly wanted to, about what had happened and might have happened to Salvo. Best to make sure things were okay, right? Yes, it- that was- yes, that was definitely smart, they should check him over, should make sure he was okay. So, tapping lightly up his arm, they lightly stroked their fingertips against Salvo's chassis plating, searching for the edges. "Anything still sore? Grinding? Anything hurt?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/11/2019**

Salvo sat up a bit with a surprised hum at being broken out of his thoughts. He put down the datapad he'd been attempting to read with very little success. It turns out when your friend outs themself as the spy who caused you to doubt your self worth enough to get into a depressive spiral, it becomes difficult to concentrate on prewar cybertronian textiles. He sighed , "Oh! hmm, let's see." He kicked his legs out one at a time, then held out each arm and twisted it a bit. Normally this would have provoked somewhat of a twinge, but Red's frequent massages had been doing good things for his frame, "No nothing right now. But-" he caught Red's chin in between two fingers and turned their helm around, "what about that audial, huh? Looks fine to me but does it hurt at all?"

##  **Betta132** **01/11/2019**

Red was slightly reassured by the lack of any obvious pain signals as Salvo moved, but they didn't take their servos off his frame, still prodding and stroking. They did pause as he asked the question, though. focusing on their own frame to get the answer. "Sore, but... not enough to notice. Want to see. Need to- Salvo, I-I need to check. Old scars, contamination, shrapnel, need- need to see." 

They just had to check, that was all. Had to figure out if there were any risk factors here, if- if Salvo was all right, if he had something else they needed to take care of. They loved the massages they could give, loved feeling Salvo relax under their servos, loved knowing they were helping, but they needed to know  _ more _ . Was he okay? Could they- oh, they couldn't help, not with much, but they could  _ find _ it and tell someone else to help. They didn't need sight to find something if he'd let them get his plating off, get their servos under, touch everything. They knew what things that weren't right felt like.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/11/2019**

"Good," Salvo smiled and moved his servo down to Red's shoulder, "Yeah you can, uh, check. I don't know what you think you're gonna find." Might as well humor them- wouldn't want to provoke their antsy-ness, plus a distraction was welcome. He could spend time thinking about what he was going to do about Spade later. He was... pretty sure there was nothing up with him. After all, Sticks had made sure to keep them all in working order, for the most part. But, he supposed, it was better to be safe than sorry. "How do you wanna do this? I can um, keep sitting here or, uh, lay down somewhere?" He laughed, a bit unsure, "You want a scar tour or something? I can't guarantee I'm gonna remember em all."

##  **Betta132** **01/11/2019**

Granted permission, Red kept stroking, rubbing, fingertips straying up and down his chassis, but retreated a fraction to let Salvo move. "Down. Easier with you on a berth. Anything not healed right. Like Sticks, but- few skills, no  _ servos _ , couldn't fix everything. Need to be sure," they explained, and followed Salvo to the berth, forehelm pressed against him most of the way. Gentle nudging, nuzzling, tracking him, up close but not quite getting in the way. They'd learned how to move like this, following someone, specifically Salvo, without impeding or getting tripped on. 

As soon as he was down, they practically climbed on top of him, servos searching along his chassis for the seams and the latches again. "Up. Can't scan, can only touch."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/11/2019**

" _ Up? _ " Salvo sounded surprised, "Y-You want me to, um- Starting with the internals, huh, you really aren't messin around. Haven't had any injuries there, thankfully. But I guess it's not a bad idea to check." His servos fidgeted with the blankets for a moment, even  _ Sticks _ hadn't seen his spark before, which was surely where this was going to go. Well, he supposed, they'd already given him a peek. His chassis plate had four tightly-bound latches that all disengaged at once with the sound of steam skirting through an exit vent. The plate itself rolled upwards a bit and then clicked upward. It was a slightly unusual setup, all things considered, usually chassis plates just  _ opened. _ Salvo frowned and grasped the plate where it popped up, slowly sliding it out and dropping it out of the way. It was thicker than armor usually was, too, tapered at both ends, and made a heavy  _ clunk _ as it hit the floor. He sat upwards slightly to get a better look, after all  _ he _ hadn't seen his spark before either. 

Salvo's frown turned into an expression of even deeper confusion. Golden light shone through a strange apparatus that was set in front of his spark chamber. He really didn't know what to make of it, this matte black tangle of struts with a hole through the back that lead directly into the open part of his spark chamber. It almost looked like it was  _ missing _ something. He'd seen some beat up corpses before, but had never seen something quite as strange as this. Maybe there was something to this exam after all, "Huh. My anatomy... never ceases to surprise me, what  _ is _ that?"

##  **Betta132** **01/11/2019**

Red couldn't exactly see Salvo's spark, nor did it occur to them to be awkward about a medical exam, and they didn't get the chance to contemplate any potential implications for him. Mostly because that felt... odd. Atypical. Busy, agile fingers inspected the edges of the plating until it was set aside, then slid underneath, circling the edges of where the plating had been at first. Ah- scars! Little nicks. Harmless enough, but their fingertips lingered on where blades and the like must have slipped slightly under the plating. Alarming, but... that was fine. Much as they didn't like the idea of Salvo being hurt, he was okay. 

Now, what was confusing him? Red stroked deeper, closer to Salvo's spark, servos moving in little tap-tap motions so they didn't startle him, and- oh! Oh. This... what was this? Helm cocked, they stroked slowly and carefully along the structures, around the rim, then deeper, mapping out every line as well as they could. The sensation of spark energy began to glow against their fingertips practically as soon as they touched the structure, getting stronger and stronger until they felt safe in saying that there was no cover here. And it wasn't ringing any bells as to what this was. Spark chambers were... usually fairly similar, this was new. They'd never felt anything like it. 

So they had to think about the only few exceptions they knew of. Modifications for various purposes, as weaponry, in snipers, modifications for religious purposes, for- 

Ah! Plating lifting slightly, they offered Salvo a slight, timid smile, servos still resting gently on the structure's outer edges. "Matrix cradle. You- you should have been... told that you have this."

January 12, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/12/2019**

"A  _ what, _ " Salvo's visor glowed much brighter as his optics widened underneath. He lay back against the berth for a few stunned kliks as a smile slowly inched across his face, " _ really? _ I- no I was never told. I- I could be a  _ Prime, _ Red." He laughed a bit as unabashed joy spread through his field,  "Nobody'd see me coming! An MTO Prime how could..." his smile quickly faded as he made the realization that that phrase was a bit of an oxymoron. He went limp into the berth, "It-they..." his helm fell to the side, he spoke in a sibilant whisper, "what... what kind of cruel fucking joke. I was cold-constructed... I was  _ made _ this way, along with everyone else in my batch at least. Who would just... do this." His voice broke. 

Whoever built him had pulled a millennia-long prank on him and he'd fallen for it so thoroughly. It's not like he'd even wanted to be a Prime in the first place. He'd realized during the long, cold nights on the sand planet that the importance of the title was overinflated due to propaganda. But there was some level of deeply-ingrained  _ glee _ that came with the idea. Too difficult to truly weed out, even with that exact intention. What had thrilled him more was the possibility of someone like him being given the title- what that would mean for the remaining MTO population. It'd be a direct affront to the Primacy itself. He was a fool to ever have believed he'd get the chance. He sighed, "Who would even give the matrix to an MTO anyway."

##  **Betta132** **01/12/2019**

Red tap-tapped their fingertips rather anxiously, even at the surge of joy, and harder at the odd depression that came after it. "You should have been told, should have  _ known _ , but- no, you- you don't, shouldn't, want to. It's- the- the Matrixes  _ warp _ someone. They shift, they change, frame  _ and _ mind, no one is ever  _ told _ but it's  _ true _ , they change a Prime into an  _ ideal _ . Don't. You don't want an ideal. You need  _ you _ ," they warned softly, concerned, not wanting their  friend to be  _ changed _ like that. They didn't need grandeur, no one did. "Don't need... that. Not the ideals. You're enough." 

More tapping and stroking, this time with  _ intent _ . That gap into the spark chamber was no good, not quite enough protection. The thick chassis armor, that was fine, but- no, not this, they needed to at least seal off that hole into his spark chamber itself. More insulation. Maybe even take all this out! Who knew what it might do? What weaknesses it might lend? Setting a mech up to be controlled, to be, what, a puppet, a symbol, who did that? How was that fair, doing this to someone? Potentially weakening their frame in the bargain. Cruel!

 

##  **Malusdraco** **01/12/2019**

"I'm... " Salvo sighed deeply and wiped a servo across his face, "I'm not convinced I am. I mean, I've been harboring the spy that kept killing off my team for  _ so _ long. Pit, I've even risked my own life to protect them. And-"  he groaned and moved to cover his visor with both servos, "I'm not... mad about that. How- How am I enough, how could I  _ possibly _ be when there are so many people I couldn't protect? I couldn't stop it from happening  _ and _ I can't even bring myself to be angry at the person who did it. An ideal leader might have saved people. He might have been able to stop the spy, or at  _ least _ deal punishment when he could." His servos clenched into fists for a moment before loosening. He let one fall down to the berth, "I mean, it's... it's not even worth thinking about, there's no way I'll ever touch the matrix, but it's- I... My team could have used an ideal because  _ I _ was not."

Salvo lay there, breathing heavily for a minute, optics closed behind his visor. When at last he opened his optics and let a servo fall to his chassis to inch his fingers along the edge of the structure. He watched his own exploration and confirmed what he'd felt earlier, notably that he didn't feel anything, the cradle didn't have any sensors in it. It carried an odd sensation with it, too, almost like it had a current running through it that seemed to get stronger the closer he got to his midline until- he flinched in pain and whipped his arm away as an arc of  _ something _ seared across his finger. "What a stupid thing," he grumbled through a clenched jaw.

##  **Betta132** **01/12/2019**

Red anxiously tapped a bit harder, shaking their helm- and the rest of them as well. "No, no, you- you don't-  _ no _ , that's not- a Prime is an  _ ideal _ , for a  _ story _ , the world- the world isn't  _ ideals _ , it isn't  _ perfect _ , you- no, no, 's your  _ spark _ , not for touching," they scolded, soft and gently, catching on to the motions and nudging Salvo's arms away from his chassis. They were starting to shake harder as they spoke, though, brows up in a manner that would normally be matched with wide optics, tears starting to bead up. "Primes are  _ ideals _ who make  _ perfect plans _ and that's  _ impersonal _ , it's- it's too pragmatic, it's- it's  _ sacrificing people _ like game pieces, it's-" 

Shaking harder, they clutched at Salvo's arm, the only thing they could easily reach, their voice starting to get shakier and much smaller. "-it was a Prime who left me where  _ he _ could reach, because it was the  _ sensible thing to do _ , because- I-" 

Shoving their face into Salvo's palm, they hunched down into his frame, shaking so hard they were rattling all over, tears dripping down their cheeks. "You wouldn't, you  _ wouldn't _ , you  _ care _ , you're  _ safe _ , you- you'd never- p-people aren't  _ numbers _ , y-you  _ know that _ , you-" 

Their voice broke with a panicky whimper, and they hugged Salvo's arm, tight, and didn't let go.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/12/2019**

Salvo gasped and quickly pulled Red into a tight hug, his servo up between their winglets, pressing them close to his chassis, "No, no. I-  _ no. _ " His breath caught. It was an unusual experience, hearing the moment one's own spark begins to whine. "Whoever that was, he was a  _ bastard. _ An-And that shouldn't have happened to you. People are... people. They can't be treated like statistics or, or pawns." He pulled them even closer, using as much of his own strength as he could, "You- you're right I would never, and I  _ won't _ let someone treat you that way again."

Salvo was silent for a bit as he felt his emotions begin to wind up. He reached up to pull his visor off before burying his face in Red's neck. Amongst the thoughts of the past few days had been some familiar ones, the faces of those who'd died under his leadership, those who'd trusted him, who he'd failed. It was a desperate attempt to make himself come to some kind of conclusion about what to do, to make him feel some sort of anger, indignation at least. But it only made him sad. "I just..." his voice was soft, wavering, "I wish I was a better leader so that I'd have more friends to introduce you to."

##  **Betta132** **01/12/2019**

_ Ohh _ Primus his armor was still off-! Red shuddered as spark energy curled against their front, but absolutely not in anything resembling revulsion. More in fascination, in- in something unidentifiable,  _ warm _ , about Salvo  _ trusting _ them, being  _ worried _ for them, about- 

Salvo curled into them, into Red, as if they could  _ help _ him, and they whimpered out a broken note of something almost like hope as they hugged him tight. They didn't know what to say to that, after all. 'I'm sorry' didn't... quite feel right, and there was no reassurance in the world that they could offer, except. Well. Except one. Curling up a bit tighter, they attempted to rock slightly, which didn't work so well considering they were in Salvo's lap and he was larger than them. "It's over. 's over. They aren't hurting any-anymore.  _ Nothing _ can hurt them, they're- they're  _ safe _ , it's  _ over _ , you- you did- did wh-what you could, it's- it's  _ over _ , it's done with, they're- they're not  _ hurting _ , it's- it's over, they-" 

Red snuggled in tighter, quivering, and hid in Salvo's frame as well as they could, now crying much, much harder. There was something like release in their field, though, something that twinged of cathartic release. "You- you did ev-everyth-thing you- you could, but it's- t-they aren't hurting any m-more, it's... it's over. It's over." 

And they might not have been directing most of that at Salvo, at this point.

January 13, 2019

##  **Betta132** **01/13/2019**

They weren't. They weren't talking to Salvo. They were just about parroting Notepad at this point, and their voice was much softer as they slowly moved to whisper directly into Salvo's audials. "T-the others. The- the ones  _ he _ made m- made me repair so- so he could keep- t-they didn't just die. I couldn-couldn't k-keep  _ doing _ it, couldn't- cou-couldn't let them  _ out _ , couldn't stop  _ him _ , so- so I- I stopped  _ them _ , I- I  _ killed _ them, Salvo, and I'm- I'm not sorry except that I couldn't  _ sooner _ , they- most didn't know and- and the- the ones that did  _ tha-thanked _ me, it- it was so  _ quick _ and then- then they were  _ free _ and he couldn't  _ touch _ them any more, and I- I made it so- so he could  _ never _ make- make me keep- keep any n-new ones alive, s-so they'd- they'd die bef-before he  _ broke _ them, and I'm- I'm not sorry! They're- it's  _ over _ , they're  _ free _ , no- no one can- can ever h-hurt them again, they- it's  _ over _ ."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/13/2019**

The words of Salvo's response were on his glossa when he  _ felt _ something. His optics opened shot open wider as Red's field brushed up against his spark. Their feelings began to pour over into his. With a surprised whimper his chassis convulsed in a deep, painful sob. And just like that he was crying, harder than he ever had before. His other arm wrapped around Red as his fingers grasped for purchase on their plating. He didn't quite know why he was sobbing into Red's shoulder, whether it was their pain or his, but his arms were quaking around their frame and he could hear soft, pitiful, crackling sounds coming from his vocalizer. 

"It's- it's over," Salvo managed, distortion ripping through his voice, "You're safe.  _ We're _ safe." He focused on that. Despite everything he'd managed to keep five others alive. Whatever was in store for the Choir, for the ship, for him, the worst of it was over, he was sure. Those who hadn't made it were at least spared the pain of what they'd all gone through. They weren't free, they weren't safe, they were gone, but they weren't suffering anymore.

Eventually his grasp relaxed, his vents evened out. He leaned the side of his helm on Red's shoulder, optics closed, and rubbed their back, gently,  _ gently. _

##  **Betta132** **01/13/2019**

Red knew on some level that they should probably pull away, close Salvo off, stop bombarding him with emotions. But they couldn't  _ bear _ to move away enough to do that, to reach for his armor, to pull their frame back, to- 

And then their last scrap of coherence collapsed and they gave a long, low, painful  _ keen _ , vocalizer skreeling painfully until it shut down. Shaking all over, they clutched him tight and pushed their face into his shoulder, quivering, almost expecting to be pushed away for their confession. They had no regrets, but they knew some people would be likely to- to object to- 

But Salvo didn't. He held them,  _ petted _ them, and sobbed quietly in sheer relief. A soft, shaky trill, and they curled into his frame a bit closer, holding him as tightly as they could. A few soft, hiccuping noises, and they shifted to curl to the side, one servo carefully stroking up his chassis. "'s open. G-got-gotta- insulation," they managed, covering over the opening with one servo, then began to search again with the servo not hugging Salvo close. Lower, out to the sides, searching for- for scars, marks, for anything. A few more scars, just a scattering of them, nothing too bad, nothing worrying, but they lightly rubbed at each one they found to loosen it a bit. Soft, gentle, nuzzling at Salvo's jawline along with it, giving him gentle little squeezes every time they found a new scar. Gentle, gentle. Don't press too hard. Gentle. 

Their shaking easing away, Red snuggled more firmly into Salvo's frame, trilling oh-so-softly. "Thank you. Salvo, th- _ thank _ you."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/13/2019**

As Red's distress faded away, Salvo was able to actually think again. It would take some time to fully process what they had told him. For now though, he set himself to calming down fully. He continued to stroke Red's back as they examined him. His optics were closed but he could feel their gentle touch. There was something calming about the whole exercise. Red's movements were easy to follow and respectful, not invasive. There was a great deal of trust he had to maintain while his chassis plate still lay on the floor, especially when the bot who, he was marginally sure, had their servo within hurting distance of his spark had just admitted to killing a significant amount of people. Well, the matrix cradle would provide some level of protection, not that he was worried. 

Salvo opened his optics again and brought a servo up to wipe at them. With a final sigh he smiled a bit, "no- no thanks needed," his voice still wavered slightly but he continued, a slight blush on his face, "I- hmm, I've never cried that hard before. Don't get used to it." He looked down at his chassis once more, frowning at the cradle, "This... thing. It's not worth keeping, you think I could find someone to get rid of it?" He very, very carefully brought his servo that wasn't already occupied with Red to touch just the edge of the structure. Again he felt that weird tingle, but knew not to stray too far in.

##  **Betta132** **01/13/2019**

Red's servos traveled back up so they could inspect the edges of the cradle, rubbing and sliding fingertips into gaps, with a significant thought towards removal. Probably wouldn't be too hard to just straight-up cut out with a chainsaw, but the purpose here would be to take it out  _ without _ otherwise harming Salvo. "Major surgery. Needs... specific parts, t' repair the chamber. Possible. Any 've the...  _ functional _ medics should be able t' help. Try Patches. Oldest. Forceps, for... precision." 

They lingered a moment or three longer, savoring the sensation of a warm, healthy, relatively calm sparkbeat, then stroked back down to keep looking for scars. This time, with their helm inclined towards Salvo's chassis, where they would have easily been able to see if they'd had optics. "Wish, a li'l bit, I could... could see. Strong spark. Must be pretty. Is it... 's it any less... fluster-ing to open up, since- since I can't see?" 

Their fingertips lingered a bit lower as they found a scar, crosswise to the muscle cables, which could potentially cause some issues in future. A few long, slow rubs over that, then just a bit harder, testing if it was flexible enough. If not, it might tear under pressure. Probably fine, it hadn't torn  _ yet _ , but... still. Worth a few long, firm rubs. Maybe apply an ointment later? The loud and energetic chemists probably knew how to make a scar-relaxing ointment. The trick wasn't just to soften the materials, it was to coax nanites back into the scar, into working on it for longer and hopefully recognizing the scar material as not ideal. Some substances used for the purpose weren't far off from being outright stimulants. "This. Not... not quite ideal. Does it... 's it hurt? Tense?"(edited)

January 14, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/14/2019**

"Major surgery, huh? Maybe a little bit too much to go through for something just... cosmetic," He grimaced and decided to ignore the 'functional' comment, after all Sticks  _ wasn't _ functional right now, they were asleep. Whether or not he trusted them to work on something so sensitive was another conversation entirely. He chuckled a bit, "And- _ no, _ well, maybe. I'd be more worried about you accidentally smacking something if you weren't, well, you, though." He blushed a little bit and gently pushed Red's face till they weren't "looking" into his chassis anymore, "It also means I can't tell you off for  _ staring. _ Which doesn't help your case. Besides, I haven't exactly seen  _ myself _ this way before either." All in all he was less flustered and more wary (as wary as one would be with their soul bared) than he supposed he should be. His priorities were more practical than social as they'd always been. 

"Probably get much more flustered around equipment if you plan on doing that too on account of the - _ ah _ " Salvo's frame tensed a bit as Red rubbed their fingers over his old scar, "Not... not hurt but  _ weird. _ Definitely sensitive." He let out a tense chuckle, "that one wasn't very fun to get."

##  **Betta132** **01/14/2019**

"At least want an insulation layer. Too open. Relatively minor procedure," Red contributed softly, letting their face be nudged away, and snuggled into his shoulder instead. Purring softly, they rubbed ever-so-softly around the scar, hopefully easing away any sort of discomfort from it. "They're... none of them fun. Not planning to strip. Unless you want. Happily strip if you want," they offered, face heating up slightly where they'd nuzzled into his shoulder, and squeezed him firmly as a bit of comfort. "Warm, at least, with no shield. I can hear you. Good, strong spark. Healthy," they contributed, almost sleepily, curling comfortably into his frame and moving on to other scars. "Should... should be all right. Might want to get... some kind of... of a... scar ointment. Loosen that up. Tension is... excess tension tears you up. It's... ohh," they squeaked, and just about lolled over, field flickering something tired. "Nnh. Oh. Cried all... all m'... m' energy out. Like Alarm. Fallin' 'sleep on things," they giggled, shaking themself awake, and ran their servos down lower to check around Salvo's hips for scars.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/14/2019**

Hearing Red laugh instantly drained Salvo's tension. It was a very hopeful sound coming from a rather hopeless-looking bot. He decided to chase it, "You? Strip? Or me. Cause if  _ you _ start getting naked we'd be veering real close to medic roleplay. Like- Like so." He cleared his throat to stop himself from laughing, "Oh baby," his voice pitched lower but dripped with that cheesy pornographic machismo, "I need you to-" he kicked a leg out straight and rested a heel on the berth and angled his knee outward, almost thrusting his hips forward a bit, " _ tune me up. _ " He held the pose for a couple kliks before continuing, his voice back to normal through staggered laughs, "That's when yanno, my panels just  _ fly _ open and a giant, pressurized spike falls out... I dunno I never paid attention that far in porn videos." 

Salvo laughed and let his leg fall back down to the berth, "or- or we could switch it up and I'd- I'd just" he shifted a bit so he could lean over and grunt in Red's audial, "I'll fix y'up real nice." He was still laughing at himself when he shifted just slightly back to rest the side of his face on Red's, "course I wouldn't judge you if you did want to get naked. Don't have to worry about sand getting in everything here, might as well take advantage of that."

##  **Betta132** **01/14/2019**

Red's antennae pricked and they tilted their helm, moving back and forth slightly to follow and process the motions, and started to giggle considerably harder. "T-that's- if- if it  _ falls _ out something has- has gone terribly wrong," they managed, then- oh!

Okay. It was cheesy, it was silly, it was Salvo being  _ ridiculous _ , but- deep voice, right in their audials? Something inside them twisted like a clawed servo in their gut, and it almost,  _ almost _ scared them, but, at the same time, their spark pulsed, hard, and their field twinged in trembling anticipation. They weren't entirely sure  _ what _ they were anticipating, though, and their frame tensed somewhere between arousal and fear. This- this was- oh, okay, yes, someone growling in their audials would have turned them on  _ so much _ before all of this, and then it had become something to fear, and then- 

Salvo. They trusted Salvo, they  _ adored _ Salvo, would have happily done just about anything he wanted. And he  _ wouldn't _ want, they knew that much, but if he ever  _ had _ , then- 

Well. There was a reason they were so conflicted. An instant more of conflicted quivering, then they chose a direction and snuggled firmly into Salvo, shifting to just about straddle his leg. Were they going to interface? Probably not. But this idea seemed to be entertaining Salvo, and they could play at this, if he liked it. It  _ was _ kinda funny. "Oh no, I-I need so much fixing. I've- I-I think I've broken my valve, doctor, it- it's leaking," they squeaked, putting a sort of falsetto tone into their voice, then winced as their voice dropped back to normal. "No sand, though. Wherever that was, not... not gonna go there. Don't like sand. Or worms."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/14/2019**

Salvo was quick to laugh at Red's joke but pulled them in a little closer and patted their back apologetically when he realized something was off. That was altogether too nervous to be just arousal. Horny he could deal with, to an extent,  _ anxious _ he wouldn't if he could help it. No matter, he could change his voice. He tried something different -nasally, annoying, theoretically harmless, and pulled back some so he could see Red's face, "Ah well a  _ leaky valve, _ I know- I know  _ just _ the thing for that. Just let me go find my tape." He snickered again at his own joke and let his voice return to normal again, "Yeah  _ definitely _ would not recommend that planet. Sand and worms, both separately bad, an even worse combination. And you can't imagine what extended time in the sand does to your paint I swear-" He turned a bit to get a quick look at his frame, the time away from sand planet had done him good, most of his color was back where it should be. There were some rough spots that he seriously doubted would even themselves out on their own. 

Turning back to Red, he laughed again, "And don't get me  _ started _ on where it gets. Pit I'm  _ still _ finding sand in weird places. Bad thing, sand. But hmm-" Salvo's train of thought switched entirely, barreling towards an entirely different terminal. He set to giving Red a once-over with his optics, "Speaking of paint..."

##  **Betta132** **01/14/2019**

Well. That wasn't threatening, but it was nowhere  _ near _ sexy, either. Red made a noise somewhere between a laugh, a sputter, and a faked gag, some of those tension lines in their face loosening much more, and offered Salvo a tiny smile. "-ew. I like-  _ either _ the- the deeper voice, or in my audials, but- but not, uh. Not both. And not  _ that _ , that's  _ worse _ ," they muttered, though that... wasn't quite right. They didn't  _ quite _ prefer the annoying voice over the. Ah. Very conflicting one. But... they  _ did _ kinda... hm. 

Red's servos strayed up and down along Salvo's arms for a moment, lingering on the rough spots, and hummed slightly in the back of their throat. "Not great. Not able to  _ paint _ this for you, but... could smooth it. Should  _ not _ let me paint. Can't color-match." 

Then something occurred to them, and they reflexively tried to glance down at their servos, then semi-smoothly turned it into stroking up their arms. Not really any rough spots. A few nicks and scuffs, and the healing lines of their own carvings, but everything was smooth enough. Not perfectly smooth, though- no distinct rough spots, but definitely not in good shape. "Oh. I... should probably try to find some paints. Nanites too busy with stress damage, my internals, to rebuild my surface layer. And I... my servos aren't sensitive enough to distinguish  _ colors _ , so.... w-would you, possibly... I would greatly appreciate some assistance. Since I trust you. Someone else might. Ah. Decide to write something rude."

January 15, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

"Oh of course I'll do it, though that's a lotta faith you're giving me not to write something rude." Salvo chuckled a bit and stretched his arms out above his helm, "What do you think of giving it a go once you're done scoping out my frame? Don't know where we'd get the paint, or if I'd be any good at giving someone a paintjob but, pit, it can't be worse'n what you already got. I mean, I hope?" His voice curled up in deep uncertainty as his thought went on. Did he have confidence in his ability to paint someone's armor? Not particularly. But if it'd help Red he'd do his best, "Though, we can put it off if you're feeling too tired. Don't push yourself."

Salvo put his arms down, finally, snaking one around Red and letting the other lay carefully on his own chassis. After a little bit of resettling himself, he looked at them again and smiled softly. He touched a couple fingers to their jaw, "You know, regardless of paint, a smile looks good on you."

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

"Oh, you couldn't reach that low with a jackhammer, drawing things on a bot who can't see them. Dirty trick," Red complained, but softly, playfully, and blushed just a fraction. "Ohh. Okay. I. I-I can... try to... you- you make it easier. So much. To, oh. Everything. I'll. What- what I said before, I will give you  _ everything _ you want, and this- this is good. I haven't, oh. I-I don't... haven't had a repaint in millennia. Whatever you want. But- but I'd like if- if we don't change it too- too much. Otherwise the. The name'll be. Confusing. Red, and- and maybe some white. Or. Silver? Up- up to you, but... I-I want... the colors. I  _ was _ a medic, and I-" a very slight hiccuping noise "-I did some- some good things. I want to keep that. That's mine.  _ He _ \- he doesn't get that. It's  _ mine _ ," they whispered, clenching their servos so tight it started to hurt, and didn't let go until a thought occurred to them. A much nicer thought. 

Winglets flicking up slightly, they glanced towards Salvo's face, then began to tap around a few other areas. "I-I still want to look for- for scars. Later, though, is okay. But- Reaver! He smells like paint sometimes, he- he'd know where to get some. And he's... I-I think I like him, so far. Have you met him?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

Salvo let out a short sigh as something concerned bubbled through his field. Red's almost-feverish insistence on pleasing him was disconcerting to say the least. Had someone else with worse intentions come along he could only imagine how easily they would have been taken advantage of. It was a conversation for later though, possibly several conversations. He knew better than to try to break that down when Red was so vulnerable. How many ways could that conversation go wrong? He really couldn't know. Not that he intended to invoke that dependance  any time soon, it would be a last ditch tool to keep Red from doing something extremely damaging or fatal. 

He shifted a bit to hold Red closer, giving them a side-hug, "Red and white and silver, yeah, we'll keep your colors," his voice was soft, "But paint's your choice, it's  _ your _ frame. Even if you won't be able to see it. I'm just your paint... applier?" his tone regained its signature warmth, "Course, anything you leave up to me, I'll be sure to make it cute- or i dunno, maybe we can get some flame shapes on there or something." He laughed a little bit, no matter Red's dependance, he'd keep them safe.

Salvo reached back to grab his visor and cover his optics again then sat up, "Seen Reaver around a bit, only ever talked to him once, though. Seems like a decent enough mech." He leaned over to retrieve his chassis plate from the floor and held it in his lap before looking at Red, "Don't know where to find him but maybe we can ask around. You ready to go?"

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

Red tap-tapped for a moment longer, thinking, then arched their back, stretched, and slowly, carefully stood up. "Reaver gets lonely. He lives, I think, somewhere near Crucible's forge room. Wait, I-I can call," they declared, and leaned against the edge of the berth so they knew where  _ something _ was as they COMMed Crucible. A quick exchange, and they let go of the berth, taking a single step out into the room, but faltered and looked back towards Salvo. When they did this, most of their world was an empty void, with occasional noises in one place or another. They didn't know where much of anything was, but they knew where Salvo was- roughly. So they stepped back towards him, reached out, and gripped his arm, using him as a support and a landmark. Gently, of course, but enough that they wouldn't lose their hold. "I like reds, in shades. And I- I might like, uh. Dots. I don't remember... most people having  _ dots _ anywhere, but it... it looks really nice on some organics. That... might be worth considering. Oh, and- and Crucible says Reaver lives three rooms away from his forge. To the left, if- if you're facing his forge door. I could probably find that on my  _ own _ , so- so should be easy from you." 

.

Elsewhere, Bracer walked into the medbay with a rather sickened expression, armor clamped back, and moved carefully around the tables to get to the little group. "Um. Okay. There's- there's a- we found a little ship, with someone on it, and it's- oh, Primus, okay, you gotta move," he declared, crouching next to Alarm, and slowly, carefully reached to touch his shoulder. "Alarm? Wow, he's out. Um. Alright, I'll- let's see if I can move him to, uh. Look, it- it's bad, and it's a really specific kinda bad, Acus, you  _ really _ shouldn't see this. Let, uh. Let me just... move some of you. Sticks, they... they might need someone, uh, small and- and kinda nonthreatening," he sighed, nudging Alarm a couple of times to be sure he wasn't about to jump awake, and scooped him up. It took some effort, Five-Alarm was a heavy mech, but Bracer was strong enough. A moment's pause to let Sticks down, then he lifted the whole bundle of Alarm and a few pillows, with Acus still in Alarm's protective spot. "Right! Off to, uh- guess the soft room oughta work. Primus, he's  _ really _ out, I'm impressed! I  _ knew _ a cuddle oughta help him some. Anyway, yeah, uh, brace yourself," he warned, moving carefully around Sticks, walking as quickly as he could to get out of the way. 

A few moments later, Scalpel marched through the door, winglets up and  _ shaking _ in barely contained outrage as she approached Sticks. "Right, Sticks, we got somethin'  _ nasty _ . Brace yerself, and if you gotta leave, you leave. We clear? And, another thing- we aren't lettin' Red anywhere  _ near _ this. Prob'ly not Acus 'till things are settled a bit. But  _ not Red _ , dear  _ fuck _ we are not lettin' Red near this."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

"He gets lonely, does he?" Salvo said, keeping a close watch on Red as he fastened his chassis plate back on. Again there was a hiss of something re-pressurizing as it slid back into place. Salvo frowned slightly at the strange latching mechanism but didn't think too much of it, probably some kind of weird idea someone got while building his frame. He stood up at last and shifted his arm so Red's grip looked a little more natural- less desperate, "Can't have lonely anymore. I hope he won't mind a drop-in by a near stranger though."

Salvo led Red to the door and stopped to straighten his posture, "Going  _ out, _ now. Likely to see some people on our way there, if...  _ if _ I've got my wayfinding right," he leaned over a bit to gently coax Red's chin up so they'd be "looking" out in front of them, "That's about a good sight line, if that matters to you today. Do you want me to get your blindfold before we go?"

.

Sticks could tell something was definitely not good the second Bracer came through the door looking like that. They carefully climbed down off of Alarm, giving Acus a quick pat on the way, "I've... I've got this, I think. You don't need to get involved."

A sense of dread  began to wrap itself around their chassis as they watched Bracer disappear into the soft room.  _ What _ could possibly have been on that ship. 

Rather than just stand in the middle of the medbay, they busied themself with moving some of the berths back to where they should be. They were just about finished with  _ one _ as Scalpel came in.  _ Primus _ she looked angry. They took a deep breath against the feeling of impending doom and steeled themself, "Understood. I'll play interference if Red gets close. Scalpel what the  _ fuck _ are we dealing with. Major injury? Danger to others? Contagion? Should I go prep the surgery suite? Should I comm Forceps and Patches- Is this an all hands on deck situation?"

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

"Sounds like... protective seals," Red noted quietly, helm cocked towards Salvo's chassis, and straightened their spine a bit. Right. Time to try and look reasonable, so they did. A stretch of their spine and both limbs, then they shuddered their plating softly and settled a bit, managing to look a bit less... thoroughly helpless. Just a bit helpless. "Yes. People... stare, otherwise. Understandable. I must look...  _ alarming _ , Primus. Rather they not stare. And the bandages are... a very blatant 'I can't see you, stop trying to gesture at me' signal," they commented wryly, tilting their helm back slightly so Salvo could tie on the bandages they'd been using for this. "If I get a visor, I'm going to need to just... heh, write something on it." 

They still weren't used to their lack of sight, but they were learning. As such, they looked a bit more confident than before as they walked next to Salvo, helm up and actually tracking people who they walked by. They were starting to learn how to tell people apart, too! Near-silent, tiny, light steps, followed by slightly louder steps, quick enough to be someone with short legs? Sharpshot and Longrange. Heavy,  _ heavy _ steps, but somehow not loud? Avalon. An odd set of sliding noises confused them for a moment, but the cheery clicks gave it away- Duo! Duo on some sort of wheels. 

(Duo had discovered roller skates, not that Red could tell)

Some of the doors had names on them in one form or another. Reaver had written his name across his door in graceful, flowing script, far too ornate to be practical, but not to the point of being unreadable. To the knock on the door, he called "come in, it's open!" and went back to his work, which was. 

Well. Which consisted of sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, on a tarp, working his way down Focus' leg with delicate strokes of a small brush to finish out the gold detailing. Focus had demanded attention and painting assistance, and Reaver was happy to oblige. Focus could be demanding, but some of it was quite possibly some sort of a confidence-boosting mask, and he did tend to extend that sort of thing to everyone else. Insisted that everyone ought to be magnificent to themselves. Reaver liked him! He was just... a lot. Pretty, though.

.

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

"Well, good news is, I doubt they got anythin' majorly contagious. Don' get bitten or bled in an' you should be fine. Doesn't look like they're  _ too _ badly hurt. No, we got a- look, when there's no laws any more an' all the peacekeepers are too busy punchin' each other in the face to keep peace, the absolute  _ fuckers _ of the world go wild. It's- Acus ain't here? Good. Think we got a deal like his," Scalpel growled, stepping into the closet for long enough to come out with a set of bolt cutters, still looking like she was ready to kick something to death. "No interference. Red turns up, you tell 'em ta leave. Pit, get someone ta carry 'em away if you gotta. Do  _ not _ let them near this mech, and, seriously, tell me if you gotta leave. Where the fuck- 's he stuck again?" 

She started to head back out the door, mostly to check if Patches and their latest patient had gotten stuck somewhere, and backed up quickly at the discovery that they had  _ not _ . Mostly to get out of the way. 

Patches was carrying their latest patient, having entirely given up on coaxing and cajoling, optics wide and plating slicked down in distress. This one- this was a mess.

The mech Patches was carrying (with considerable difficulty) wasn't all that large, somewhere around Scalpel's size, but a bit less lanky. He was doing his level best to resist everything, kicking out and trying to wedge himself into the doorway, but wasn't having much luck at stopping anything. Too weak, and wearing too many chains. A short chain between the cuffs tight around his wrists, a longer chain run between his shins (that one bolted through the metal itself), a leash fastened tight around his helm, and two unusual, thoroughly alarming details. The first was a muzzle of sorts, but rigged with an opening in the front. Judging by the muffled, hissing shrieks and the distinct clicking of dentae on metal, that opening ran to a small tube kept in their mouth. Small mercies, it didn't look large enough to fit someone's spike through. More alarming than that, if such a thing was even possible, was what had happened around his chassis. There were what looked almost like small pry bars wedged into gaps, a few of them welded into place, ringed around his chassis over his spark. That was... probably a very bad sign, something that looked a bit like it was meant to force someone's spark chamber open. 

Possibly an even worse sign; his paint was beyond stress-mottled, it was all but gone, save a few rusty-looking patches. Over the top of the scratch marks, the gashes, and the few remaining splotches of paint were distinct paint streaks, all up the front of his torso, a moderate blue color. Not just one set, either- streaks layered over streaks, varying ages, some of them marred as though he'd been clawing at them and some fresher. His optics were wild and panicked over the muzzle, the chains clinking furiously, and he didn't seem to notice -or might not have cared about- the way his leg plating was warping as he kicked against the hobbles. It wasn't working so well.

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

Salvo took a moment to drink in the scene and the relatively new face. New and  _ very _ pretty. He leaned over to whisper in Red's audial, normal voice this time, "Reaver's working on someone else right now, a seeker with white paint n lots of optics. Don't know his name. Getting some gold done right now, it's a good look. They're in the middle of the floor on a tarp so if you hear something crinkling or feel something strange it's not, like, dead things. There aren't any dead things in here as far as I see. Stick close and I'll steer you in the right direction." Briefing done, he almost stood up but paused to continue instead, "Reaver looks like he knows what he's doing. I think we came to the right place." 

Salvo stood up a little straighter and draped an arm around Red's shoulders, "Busy, huh. Gold looks good on ya mech." he flashed a bit of a smile to Focus and got to the point, meeting optics with Reaver "Red here's looking to get a paintjob. We were wondering if we could borrow some of your paints. Nothing you're using right now just some uhh..." he paused to remember what Red had asked for, "Red, white, and silver? I think." He cocked his helm at what Reaver was doing, "might... need some of your time also, if you'd be willing to teach me at least the basics. Though," he put his servos up apologetically, "if you're in the middle of something we can wait."

.

" _ Biting? _ Wh-" Sticks frowned and then they turned to the doorway and froze. Their face fell. They had an instant to feel the crushing despair the whole of this mech elicited before they went into emergency planning mode. The pry bars were by far the most immediately dangerous things that had been done to the mech, they needed out ASAP. But they were definitely not calm enough to cooperate with someone risking accidentally popping off their chassis armor. Second most important would be the gag, the mech couldn't seem to even close their mouth, let alone coherently communicate. Again it would be difficult to get off if they were moving like they were, especially without upsetting them further, though they'd question whether that was even possible. The hobbles was in the midst of destroying their leg, a movement problem again. The chains and leash would be workable, not high priority but workable. 

That look on Patches's face told Sticks any option of friendliness was off the table at least for now. Their main appeal was gone, then, so backup would be their role. With that decided, they looked to Scalpel, "If Patches couldn't get them to calm down, we'll probably need to get rid of something first. Wrist chains are the best bet, I think. You think we can get them in a side room without agitating those bars?" They took a deep breath, "Point me where to go Scalpel, I'm not running away from this one."

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

Reaver glanced up for an instant, then returned his optics to his work, focusing intently on his servos. He wasn't doing this with a tool, just by servo- tracing the brush along the edge of a seam to leave a thin highlight of gold. "Gladly. This won't take long, you're welcome to have a look at what paints I have. That cabinet over there is my whole stock, but keep in mind those aren't all for frames. The ones that are intended to be applied to someone, and will integrate properly, have lids rimmed in black. Pick whatever you'd like! We can mix colors to try and get something ideal. Normally I'd ask what you'd prefer to have on you, Red, but... might be an issue. Perhaps trade a few snaps?" 

"Hello, right now is for  _ me _ ," Focus complained softly, not liking the potential loss of concentration- he wanted those lines to be perfect. There was no real bite to his words, though. Humming, he lifted his helm slightly to eye Red, then shook his helm a fraction and clicked his tongue sympathetically. "That is unfortunate, isn't it? A shame, could be cute if not for all that mess with your paint. Suppose we'll see how you look cleaned up a bit," he commented, leaning forwards to prop himself on Reaver's shoulders, eyeing both of them but Red in particular. "Focus. You are?" 

"Evidently, 'unfortunate'," Red muttered, but without anything dark or upset in their tone. That wasn't wrong! They probably looked terrible. "A-and I- I think a few snaps might be nice, if- if that would be all right with you, Salvo. I'd... like to know how I'm going to look." 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

"They're far beyond any sort of calm. That means we're onto plan B- fix them  _ first _ and then apologize for upsettin' 'em later," Scalpel explained, moving up close, and held the bolt cutters where the bot could see. "Hey. You want all that stuff off you? I- fuck it all, Patches, hold still," she declared, and crouched slightly, moving quickly to snip through the chain between the bot's legs. That let them move a bit more, but it kept them from doing any further damage to their legs- and they weren't going to get away from Patches, regardless of the kicking. He was too strong. "Right. Sticks, grab one o' those emergency kits we got set up, and- fuck it, get the pry bar outta the closet, then- let's see-" 

Patches tried to head for one of the side rooms, the door to which was open, but stopped in his tracks when the captive bot  _ shrieked _ and wrenched so hard against his arms that something gave a squeal of stressed metal. "Oh, oh dear, okay, no side rooms!" he declared against their back, having tucked his helm down to avoid his audials being smashed into, and instead moved to the nearest clean berth. Scalpel moved with him, and, backed up by far more experience in far more unpleasant things than anyone should ever have, they got their newest patient pinned to the berth in about two seconds flat. A few more motions to cuff their legs, another snip of the cutters to sever the chain between their servos, strap their wrists down, a band over their shoulders -but  _ not _ their chassis- and one over their waist, and Patches stepped back slightly, still wearing that thoroughly sorrowful look. "Oh, sweetie. You poor dear. Oh, sweetie, we're not going to hurt you, I'm  _ so _ sorry we have to restrain you, it's all right-" he began, reaching to try and touch their shoulder, and jerked back again when-

Well. Wide, panicked, furious optics followed his servo for an instant, then the trapped bot  _ screamed _ again, muffled by the muzzle and gag, a terrified, desperate noise as they fought the restraints. It wasn't giving, though. Everything was wide and soft, they couldn't do any damage, but neither could they manage to escape. A few moments of kicking and fighting, then they gave a soft, shuddering whimper and went still. Well- mostly still. Their vents were heaving so hard their entire chassis was heaving, and with every motion, the cracked plating a round their chassis shifted and gave glimpses of sparklight. They looked absolutely panicked, absolutely  _ desperate _ , and their whole frame jerked in an aborted attempt at escape if anyone even gestured in their direction. 

"Yeah, see, this is what we call a  _ fucking mess _ , Scalpel declared, looking down at Sticks, then sighed heavily and attempted to lower her winglets a fraction. "We're gonna have ta cut those cuffs off, got a decent chance of cuttin' into their frame if they're fightin' while we do. How 'bout you get the shears outta that kit an' use those on the straps of that...  _ thing _ on their face? Might keep 'em a bit calmer if it's you. Don' expect 'em to start talkin', just... might help a li'l bit. Don't haveta worry about those things in their chassis now, they can't  _ do _ anythin' about it."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

" _ Could _ be cute? They're  _ already _ cute," Salvo said, already a little put off by Focus's attitude. Not to be too confrontational, he continued, "I've got a feeling some paint's gonna make em just about unstoppable." He gave Red's shoulder a light squeeze and walked in, keeping close to them as he guided them to the cabinet, "and don't worry, Red, we'll do it just right. S'your frame." Passing Focus, he gave him a slight nod, "Salvo, charmed." Not his friendliest greeting, he admitted to himself, but he wondered how such a personality was going to mesh with Red's. He didn't have particularly high hopes. He readied himself for their defense.

"Black caps, hmm." Salvo looked contemplatively into the cabinet, then picked out the first red he found. A few moments later he spied another one. Within a minute he'd gathered four different red pots, cradling all of them in the nook of his arm. "Damn, Red, there are like, three different types of white here," he laughed, "You want silver, or chrome, or platinum? Wait... one of those doesn't have a black cap. There's- Oh! I found one that looks really close to my color!" He retrieved a deep magenta from one of the top shelves and nudged the side up against Red's servo, "You wanna match? S-uh, red-ish pink-ish color."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

Sticks came back with the pry bar and emergency kit in time to give Scalpel a quick nod. They set the tools on the nearest adjacent berth and retrieved the shears. Turning around they got a better look at the mech to spot some very familiar marks on their chassis, painful little jagged lines. Their breath caught slightly but they shook their helm through it. Now was not the time. As they approached the berth they held the shears up in the air so they were visible."Climbing up, don't be surprised," they said quietly and likely futilely as they scaled the berth to sit near the mech's helm, it was the only way they could do this. They sat and leaned just slightly against their shoulder and brought the shears out to hold out in front of their face, "this is for the thing on your face, if- if it's gonna hurt anyone it'll be me, alright?"

They gently slipped a few fingers under a relatively loose strap, tapping slightly on the plate underneath, then slid the shears on top of their fingers and snipped through. "There, see, it's- it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay," they spoke very softly, and gently patted the area after they were through. They then got to work, doing the same motion every time. Before long their voice wavered too much to actually talk. They hummed instead, a stately hymn for strength they'd learned so long ago. It was broken through vocalizer distortion, as it usually was when they'd invoked it. Before they finished the final straps, they made a point to cut the leash as close as they could, flinging it far off the berth. They were leaned over in front of the mech to get the final strap, handed off the shears to Patches.

"Please don't- well alright I guess if you really want to you're allowed to bite me," Sticks said, grasping the muzzle with both servos and slowly pulling it off so as not to rip the feeding tube out of their throat. As soon as it was out officially they threw it as far as possible away and sat back, servos up.

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

"Hm, I suppose. And you  _ hardly _ look charmed," Focus commented, blinking both pairs of optics slightly out of sync. "I tend to have that effect on people. Or they get distracted by my attractiveness and I could insult every bit of them, an inch at a time, without them even noticing. Or they're too horny for me to let them near me whatsoever. Rude, that," he muttered, idly running a servo up one of Reaver's wings. "It's not even flattering any more. It hasn't been flattering in a few thousand years." 

"Don't mind Focus. He's a bit of an aft, but only a bit. Mostly it's sass, and I think a lot of it is defensive. And, mech- I'm the one painting you, I get to decide how distracted to be. Shush," Reaver scolded gently, pinching his ankle slightly, then finished off the last few lines and set Focus' pede back down. "Right! How are you feeling today, Red? I could demonstrate techniques on you, if you'd be comfortable... probably in my lap? We could figure something out." 

Red took the paint and pondered it for a moment, sloshing it slowly back and forth to enjoy the sensations, helm cocked slightly to listen to Reaver. "I... I don't think that would be an issue. And... yes. I'd like to match. Just- just a few details, though, it might look a-a bit odd otherwise. White... soft white. And- Reaver, I-I don't remember most people having dots on them, but... I like dots on things." 

.


	17. Chapter 17

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

The mech on the berth hissed and tried to yank away from the contact, but found that quite nearly impossible, given the situation. Besides that, the  _ shears _ \- optics wide, they watched the motions as well as they could, biting reflexively at the tube, and bucked as hard as they possibly could when the muzzle started to come away. Gagging, they kicked harder and struggled away from the nasty thing, then coughed a few times and swallowed hard. Panting softly, they whimpered, swallowed again, and almost,  _ almost _ looked grateful, but jerked again and hissed at- not really anything in particular, except perhaps Sticks' close proximity. 

That did seem to help a fraction, at least. The fluttering of the sparklight through plating-gaps eased the slightest bit, and their optics dimmed slightly. They didn't speak, just watched Sticks, lips parted enough to show that their front dentae were badly chipped from biting against the tube. A quick, abrupt motion, back arching as they snapped out at Sticks' servos, but they missed, rather intentionally, and accidentally showed off the scars on the back of their throat. Tubes in one's throat, long-term, were less than great. 

"Right. There we go. Progress! See what you can do about that nasty helm harness, will ya?" Scalpel prompted softly, backing up slightly to retrieve an IV bag, and lifted it slightly. "Figure you don't want anyone else pourin' things down yer throat, so... you prefer this, mech? Gotta do somethin' about that spark, that color ain't ri- ah, fuck." 

The mech on the berth had been starting to relax. Slowly, very slowly, but relaxing. And then they processed that one of their captors was saying something about their  _ spark _ , about more  _ energy _ , and any and all logic left them entirely. Keening that pitiful, terrified noise, now so much clearer without a tube down their throat, they started to struggle again, this time biting at Sticks in earnest. They missed, though.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

"Agree with that. Horny gets old  _ real _ fast," Salvo sighed then turned to Red, "Right why don't you keep that one and-" he glanced at the cabinet trying to find that white jar from before, "-and this one, that one's the white." He gave the cabinet a once over and decided against continuing his search, "Right, I'm gonna find every red in this cabinet for you and then someone can send you a snap of em so you can pick a few out, if that sounds good to you. But first-" he put a servo on Red's shoulder and gently walked them forward to the tarp, "watch your step," and sat them down right next to Reaver. He squatted next to them to set down the paints he'd already found, "Reaver's right next to you, got some paint on the ground around here so don't like, kick your legs around or anything like that."

Salvo stood back up and turned around to search the paint shelf. When he came back he'd found some more pinkish colors, two different shades of silver, and three oddballs- brightly pigmented orange, green and blue. He sat down on the other side of Red and placed the paints in front of him in a short line. "There are no more reds in there, I promise," Salvo said. He nudged Red slightly with his elbow with a bit of a grin on his face, "well, except for this one."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/15/2019**

Sticks winced at the mech's scream as it began to sink into their struts in earnest. It felt like someone had torn out their insides, hearing it this close. They felt the rawness in the back of their throat from days prior. Their optics wavered. No. Stay focused. They looked down at the mech's chassis, no, it didn't look right, from what they'd been learning, they still didn't know enough to make a judgement. They looked up at Scalpel and opted to comm instead, in case it would avoid continuing to upset the mech.  _.:If you think it's worth the risk of more damage to check now, I'll see what I can do about distracting him, otherwise shouldn't we wait until he's calmer?:. _

"It's okay," Sticks said to the stranger, failing to sound confident, "It's okay. We're here to help you." their voice was somewhat hollow, pained, "I can't take the rest of that slag off your helm until I know you aren't gonna- gonna bite my servos. Bite my arm? That's fine. Wouldn't think you'd want to after having that monstrosity in your mouth for Primus knows how long but if you really want that just calm down and nod or-or tell me if you can," they didn't quite know what they were doing but they'd sensed something earlier, perhaps if they just talked enough they could bring them down close enough to be within communication distance, "That's-that's a free bite right there, as long as you stay away from the servos you can bite and- pit I'll scream too if you want me too if that'll make you feel better." Sticks took a deep, shuddering, breath and leaned over to catch the mech's optics with their own, "those- those scars I  _ know _ those. They look like my own an-and they  _ fixed _ me. They fixed me and they can help you too. But there are steps they need to go through before they can do that. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

##  **Betta132** **01/15/2019**

Reaver, clicking his fingertips together steadily to let Red follow his approach, set his servo lightly on their arm. "I think we'll need to give you a good polishing before we can get any paint on you. Spade, do you have any experience with any sort of repaint? More than just rubbing a little paint over some scratches, I mean. It's not difficult, but does need some coordination, and a bit of patience," he hummed, gently moving in a bit closer to pet Red's back. They seemed calmer today, more confident. Salvo was a good influence, probably. "-ah! These should work well. Let me see... if I were you, I would go with one or two of these reds as a base, then one or two over that as highlights, then- I don't see why we  _ couldn't _ put some dots on you. These very bright ones, I suppose you could do major parts, but I'm inclined to suggest just a few highlight points. Audial edges are always good to highlight. Audial edges, antenna tips... maybe not much else. Ordinarily I might suggest it as an optic liner, but I think in this case you'd prefer  _ not _ to draw too much attention to your, ah, general optic area. Unless you'd prefer to charge headlong into things? Here, let me COMM you."

Red pondered the snaps they'd been sent, the first thing they'd actually seen in a long time. Well- not quite seen, this was working out more like strong mental images, but they got the gist. After a few moments more, they slowly selected one darker red as their base, then, what... two more? That seemed okay. Then... why not? Both the silvers, and the nice light blue. "I-I like these. Do you... too much?"

"Hm. If someone unskilled was applying them, perhaps. Worth an attempt, though," Focus contributed, moving up to lean on Reaver's back again. "Whatever's behind the bandages, you have, I suppose, two options. Draw attention elsewhere, or draw attention to your face as much as possible. Considering the bandages, I assume you aren't taking the latter path. Now... spots and curled lines are very unusual for our species, but I suspect much of it is out of tradition and a dislike of organics. Some of it could clash, the shapes and all, but... I don't see why it couldn't be done. Now, are  _ you _ getting anything done? You are something less than coherent, yourself," he pointed out, looking at Salvo now. 

.

Scalpel and Patches winced sharply and glanced at each other, then Patches COMMed them, softly, backing away a bit further.  _.:Sticks, that's- that's not the same as your situation. Look closer. Multiple layers of marks, varying ages. Multiple layers of paint streaks. You see streaks like that on someone's thighs and hips, combined with the leash and this level of stress, you think rape. Scuffs all up the front, scars from energy conduction around the spark chamber, pry bars, extreme distress response to being touched... I've never seen anything quite like this, but I have my suspicions. I think someone's been forcing them into... something approaching a merge, on a regular basis. I don't know why, but... yeah. Essentially, we're working with a rape victim, except everything is a few thousand times worse. Did you... end up reading into any of those 'pads I have stashed about trauma?:. _

The captured bot panted, trembled, and stared up at Sticks for a few long moments, optics flicking up and down their frame, then very slowly went limp. Well- mostly, aside from the heaving of their vents and the occasional harsh-sounding swallow of a sore throat. They were still shaking hard, but they dimmed their optics a fraction and, slowly, turned their helm, offering some of the straps on their helm a bit better. That put them staring at Scalpel, and they started shaking harder, optics locked on the energon, but didn't try to move away.

Scalpel moved slowly and gently, crouching a distance away, and met their optics. "Hey. Look- you wanna die? No? Then you need fuel. Now, or soon. Goes down your throat or straight into your veins, your choice, but you need fuel. An' I really don't wanna have to make you do anything, okay? But... I'm a medic. My job is to put your health over your comfort. Okay?" she sighed, voice soft, and didn't dare move. "Right. Sticks. Helm harness first, then, if they stay calm, we get a li'l saw and get those shackles off their limbs. Then... inclined t' clean 'em up first. Figure out 'eir name. Get some fuel in 'em so they don't die.  _ Then _ we can try an' get that nonsense outta their chassis an' fuckin' melt it." 

Their captive-slash-patient shook harder at just about everything she was saying, trembling so hard it was starting to rattle the berth, but didn't actually move other than that. Or try to fight. Or do anything but shake, staring at her, optics still very wide indeed.

January 16, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/16/2019**

"Oh the blue's definitely a good choice, Red. Striking color combo," Salvo gave Red's shoulder an encouraging squeeze and looked to Reaver, "Repaint? Nope, never. We gotta give em a full-frame rub-down first or something? Or do things piece-by-piece? Or uhh- I guess I'll let you explain." he grinned sheepishly at Reaver and then looked up to address Focus, "Nah, today's Red's day. My color's coming back quick enough. Can't help the paint I was made in, either, not that I've got any complaints. Though I can keep myself from giving unsolicited opinions." He punctuated the statement with the most condescending friendly smile he could muster. The mech was beginning to rub him the wrong way. Not that he wouldn't deescalate the conversation if it got heated for Red's sake, but he couldn't resist the urge to poke back. He'd long gotten sick of biting his glossa while others told down him or his MTO comrades. 

"So, Red," Salvo said, at last breaking his defiant staredown, "What kinda dots were you thinking? Little speckle dots or uh, something big and round like a moon?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/16/2019**

Sticks closed their optics for a moment to stay the feeling of deep unease that bubbled up within them  _.:I didn't get to them yet, no, moved the guide on spark disorders up first for obvious reasons:. _ They opened their optics and held out a wordless servo to Patches for the shears,  _.:I -know- it's nothing like what we've got here. And I know better than most what the kind of separation that leaves those scars feels like. If you think I'm not terrified at the prospect of that happening multiple times than surely you must think me a fool. But you guys fixed me in a matter of hours and I thought I was a goner before then. This may be the worst case I've ever seen but I wasn't lying when I said I believed we could fix them. Wasn't "project confidence whenever possible" in the first datapad you gave me?:. _ There was a bit of a fire in them now, they would  _ help. _ This bot was going to live.

The instant Sticks received the shears again, they set to work. Their technique of cushioning the blades with their fingers seemed to work before, so they continued.  _.:They can get angry at me about it later, or now, whatever's not abject terror works:. _ They took another deep breath and began to speak again, their voice soft and wavering slightly less, "My name's Sticks. The one you're looking at is Scalpel and the big one is Patches. We're all medics. We're here to help you. You're going to be alright. You're on a ship called the Seeker right now, unaffiliated to any faction. It's peaceful, you won't be pressed into service or anything." At this point they were just saying what came to mind. They shifted their grip on the shears as they felt the beginnings of a cramp in their palm, "The war's over, anyway, so you don't have to worry about that. You don't have to remember anything I'm saying either, you've got time, now." They finished the last strap soon enough and set the shears aside then leaned over again to grasp each side of the harness and gently ease it off their helm, reaching back to support their neck as it came off, "You've got one free bite, now, remember if I'm doing something that hurts you can just go for it and I'll stop, you've got my guarantee." 

When the harness was at last off, they flung it away as far as they could and retreated again, "You're going to be okay. We're going to take your shackles off now but it might hurt if you keep moving, do you think you can stay still long enough to let Scalpel and Patches do that?"

##  **Betta132** **01/16/2019**

Focus met the stare with only an elegant lift of his wings, and held Salvo's gaze, unconcerned, until he looked away. "No one's making you  _ listen _ . And I really should hope you've noticed the state of yourself. It's unflattering. If you're content to wait until it heals... more power to you, I suppose. You on the floor, whatever your name is- let me see those winglets up. Show me what they look like, hm? Let's see the shape in particular."

Red contemplated that for a moment, then ducked their helm and pricked their winglets, flaring them to the sides to show them off. They'd had white edging along those at one point, but it was a bit faded and patchy now. 

"Perfect. White along the edges, nice thick border, and then... the  _ very _ tips in blue. Maybe a few speckles down the white," Focus suggested, then got up off of Reaver's frame and, deliberately tapping his pedes for the noise, circled around Red. "You could be absolutely optic-catching if you wanted, or... slightly more subdued if you'd rather not have too much attention. Right now? A bit sad, honestly, with the paint and the bandages. You need something a bit smaller as a blindfold, I think. Let me see-" he muttered, stepping over to the first aid kit kept conspicuously near the door- as usual for most of the rooms. Should be bandages in there.

##  **Betta132** **01/16/2019**

"Focus' politeness is questionable"

"hey-" 

"I"m not wrong" 

"that's fair" 

"but his fashion sense is excellent. I'm inclined to agree," Reaver hummed, studying Red for a moment, then tossed a cloth and a little can of something polish-like to Salvo. "An area at a time, in case they get tired sooner than I expect and we can't finish. Elbows down, first. And  _ not _ their servos, that could be, ah, awkward. Comfortable, Red?" he purred softly, and started to scrub gently when Red nodded in response. It left the areas a bit smoother, with the slightest dull shine, ready to be repainted. "See, Salvo? Smooths things out, cleans things up,  _ and _ , until it's overwhelmed by paint, it encourages any remaining surface nanites to retreat." 

.

The trapped bot quivered for a moment, very slowly starting to relax, staring up at Sticks and not really hearing much of anything, by the looks of them. As the harness came off, they shook their helm and huffed softly, coughing once more, then shuddered and tried their best to squirm enough to rub the exposed areas against the berth. The areas under the harness and muzzle had been rubbed raw and were already starting to scar up, and were caked with grime and what looked like dried energon.

_.:That's going to scar, bad, if we don't get it cleaned up. And they need to drink. Back up, let me see if I can... let me try something:. _ Patches prompted, and, carefully, moved up a bit closer. "Hello, sweetie. I'm so sorry I had to restrain you, I know I was scaring you, but I had to get you up here where we can help. So... I'm going to come up here, okay? And... I'm going to make you a little deal. I'll let you sit up, you can hold a cube for yourself, you can get your face cleaned up, but you have to not attack anybody. Okay? I know you're upset, and I understand, but I need you to not hurt my medics. All right, sweetie?" 

A tiny nod, and Patches moved the last bit closer, taking a risk. Uncover their shoulders and wrists, then move back- see what they did. 

The injured bot sat up quickly, trembling, and scrubbed rather violently at his face with both servos, then trembled and slowly, slowly lowered their servos away. They were, still, watching Sticks, shaking, but had started to look a fraction calmer, and the tiniest bit of hope flashed in their optics when Scalpel handed Sticks a clean rag and a bottle of gentle solvent with a muttered "go on".

##  **Malusdraco** **01/16/2019**

Salvo had leaned over to get a good look at what Reaver was doing then followed suit, gently grasping Red's forearm in one servo and polishing with the other. He laughed, "feel like I was the last to learn about the... medics servos thing, is it really that common knowledge or..." he thought for a bit longer, probably much more common knowledge when there are medics in your dating pool. He glanced over at Reaver, for a microklik before deciding not to pursue that train of thought further, "So, Focus, yeah? So far we've been thinking about the idea of a  _ visor _ for Red, once yanno, we can find someone to make one. It's more permanent than a bandage and would look better, too, I think. What are your entirely solicited fashion thoughts there?"

Salvo kept his helm low, optics trained on what he was doing and lowered his voice to talk to Red for a bit, "Actually, Spade... much as they conflict me right now, they seemed interested in helping you. They could probably make you a headset of sorts, with a visor, tricked out with who knows what slag. You'd need to be specific with what you'd want, though, or else they're liable to make something... real strange." Within a few minutes he'd finished polishing Red's arm to the best of his ability and sat back with a satisfied grin.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/16/2019**

Sticks sat for a moment, cleaning tools in their lap as they looked up to the mech, trembling. It felt heavier now, their attention on them. They stood up carefully, pausing for a klik to wipe their face in their elbow. They looked the mech in the optics and spoke quietly, "If it gets to be too much, you can just push me away. Might fall off the berth but, Pit, might even be funny. No hard feelings whatsoever." With that they held up the solvent bottle and rag so they were in view and leaned over to begin their cleanup, working their way from areas least likely to be sensitive, to places where they could see lots of energon pileup. Their words seemed to work somewhat thusfar so they continued talking, low, as gentle as they could be, "Imagine you haven't had the chance to talk, really, in a while, so if you want to try that out again by all means go for it, none of us here are going to judge you if you wanna make some strange noises. You wanna yell or-or swear, just, yeah." 

The process of cleaning up their neck was slow going but Sticks was persistent, making sure to clear away grime far up their neck, "I'm coming around the back now, don't be surprised," they said as they moved to the next area, "Eventually we're going to need something to call you as opposed to 'the mech.' If you're not up for talking just-" they hesitated, thinking, "just tap your helm with a finger if you want our comm codes. Doesn't even have to be your name either, we can think of something new for you if you don't want to use your given name. We're going to take this one step at a time, friend," they shifted around to get at the other side now, "If you need us to slow down or reconfigure things, we can do that. It's- it's going to be alright."

##  **Betta132** **01/16/2019**

"I'm not sure how common knowledge it is, especially in a more... typical background than I have. I can tell you, though- it's not just a matter of avoiding embarrassing situations, it's a matter of comfort. Avoiding unpleasant textures against extremely sensitive suites and all. So... let me show you how to work the base coat. I'm going to insist on doing the details myself, but the base colors are easy," Reaver hummed, and set the paint tin where they could both easily reach. Purring oh-so-softly in his throat to keep Red calm and relaxed, he offered Salvo a fairly wide brush, two fingers wide at its base and narrowing slightly towards the tip. "Like this. Don't overload the brush in the paint, just coat the tip of it. Long, smooth strokes to get the majority of each plate, then go back and fill the gaps before moving to the next plate."

Focus was now over at Reaver's paint cabinet, dabbing fabric paint onto a length of bandaging, but stopped his work for a moment to ponder them. "Hm. That's going to depend on how much you're trying to cover, and how obvious you want it to be that you're blind. Keeping it dark could help with the second, if you don't want people to be expecting you to be able to see their gestures coming. I'm assuming whatever's under those isn't functional as optics any longer... unless this is something religious."

"-no, not religious," Red offered quietly, and looked up at Salvo, carefully not moving their arms away from any of the attention. They liked this, the long, slow slide of brushes against plating. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so, and pleasantly tickled the sensors. "Salvo said I should... lime green. And I-I don't think I want 'tricked out'."

"Ah, that could be striking," Focus declared, wings flicking up slightly, then stepped close enough to pulse his  _ approving/intrigued/encouraging _ field at them. "Must remember to get close enough to send gestures at you. Now- a bright color like that would work best on a narrower visor, otherwise it could be a bit overwhelming." 

.

The bot stayed almost perfectly still as two little saws whirred to life and carved through the manacles on their wrists, largely out of fear of being cut. Still watching Sticks, shakily, optics wide but focusing better. He still didn't give any sign that he'd  _ heard _ , though, just stared. Then- well, then their optics flicked to the energon in Patches' servos, and their armor all lifted hopefully in the same instant as they gagged again. They didn't start kicking because the straps were around their legs still, and because Scalpel was there with a saw, but they twisted to the side as much as they could manage and braced both servos on the berth as their whole frame heaved. There wasn't anything in their tank to purge, which turned out to be a good thing, because their whole frame made a distinct effort at emptying their tank.

"Oh, sweetie," Patches sighed, pouring some of the energon into a smallish cup, and waited until they stopped gagging to move closer. "Okay, there we go, I'm sorry. Do you think you can drink any? If not, you can get an IV, that's all right, but you have to get some energon in you- and soon. So... would you like to have a drink? Do you think you can keep it down? It's all right if not- we can clean up. But... do you want to try?" he offered, holding out the small cup where his patient could reach. "You can have as much as you can process, but only a bit at a time, easier on your frame. What do you think, do you want to try?"

Their patient watched for a moment, optics flicking between Patches and the cup, then slowly, slowly reached to take it. Another bit of consideration, and he slowly lifted it, taking a cautious sip. Fortunately, the nausea didn't return. The echo of a servo around the back of his helm faded, and he took a long, deep gulp, savoring the taste of the first thing he'd been allowed to drink for himself in- ugh. He never actually  _ tasted _ any of the energon as it was forced down his throat, the tube meant to keep him from resisting the fuel, and this tasted  _ amazing _ . It washed away the taste of metal shards from where they'd been biting at the tube, their own energon, the  _ dust _ that got into their mouth,, everything they hadn't been able to do anything about with that  _ thing _ on their face.

When the cup was empty, they watched Sticks for a moment more, then tried to speak. Their vocalizer ground harshly and they managed only a few noises before it hitched too hard to continue, then he coughed sharply, shook his helm again, and tried again. It worked- barely. Their voice was soft, harsh, practically grinding, but it worked. "Arclight. My name is Arclight," he hissed, then aimed a glare down at the pry bars in his chassis. "Get them  _ out _ ."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll give you more energon in a few minutes, all right? Just to be sure your tank can handle it. And we can absolutely get those out, but... you are going to have to let one of us a bit closer. Sticks here is still learning. May I come and get a better look?" Patches asked, as gently as he could, starting to come closer- then retreated quickly when Arclight hissed sharply at him. "-oh. All right then. Sticks, do you suppose you can give me an assessment of the situation there?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/16/2019**

Salvo was only really half listening to what Focus was talking about, a little too concentrated on what he was doing. This was Red, after all, he couldn't fuck up- even if he had an almost infinite capacity to. He chose a plate, angling their wrist so it was facing upwards and then slowly went to dip his brush into the paint- which... just happened to be much more full than he'd expected. It was only when he felt a cold drip on his knee when he realized that it was  _ way _ too much paint, "Agh fuck," he mumbled, unsure whether to drip  _ more _ paint to the floor in an attempt to get it back in the pot or whether to just go for it. He sat up straighter as another drip of paint landed on his leg. Pressed to make a decision, he quickly blew on his other forearm to get rid of any kind of dust and wiped off the excess there, at least it would stay put now- he hoped.

"Alright then I won't tell Spade about your visor plans," he said quietly, finally putting the brush down on Red's arm. He looked over to see what Reaver was doing then looked back at his own work. It was not very good, streaky, a little too dry. With an annoyed  _ tsk _ Salvo mopped up the rest of the paint on his forearm and tried to fix it. By the time he was done with one plate, he'd given up on keeping himself clean, but managed at least to not get any on Red. Small blessings. 

.

January 17, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

Sticks grimaced as Patches backed away. They were less than confident they could deal with the pry bars on their own. They leaned over to clean the last bits of Arclight's neck then nervously set the rag and bottle down on the berth. Turning their helm down was a bad idea, they realized, as they quickly wiped away the tears that gravity had caught. He did have a voice, now. 

"Arclight it is nice to meet you," Sticks said through a melancholy smile, as they looked back up to his face. They cautiously padded over to his front to get a better look at the damage. Spotting the scars again, this time up close sent a violent shiver through their frame.  _ Primus _ there were so many. They had to fight the urge to cling to the mech's frame in some small semblance of a hug.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

"Alright, Arclight, I'm going to lean in to get a closer look, I will not touch the bars. We're going to figure out how to get these out without hurting you too bad. There are some questions we're going to need to ask that may be unpleasant for you to think about. Getting answers is important but not top priority so you can choose not to answer them." They looked up to Arclight's optics to make sure he heard, then slowly inched closer to lean in, "Looks like the bars are in at different depths, likely to deal with multiple layers of armor," They leaned in a little closer, "The most superficial ones seem to be welded on, whether or not that trend persists on the deeper ones I can't tell for now. This may be an operation for the saw, unless the welds are bad, which I'm hoping they are but realistically they aren't." They inclined their helm a little bit to get a look at the seams, "Seams are in rough shape, I wonder if they'll close all the way on their own..." Sticks squinted their optics but stayed still otherwise and opted to comm Scalpel instead of speak,  _.:Green sparklight. That explains some things... if memory serves. I don't think it's time to broach the spark subject yet, not until he's calm enough to consent to an exam. You want to pass that on to Patches as well?:. _

Sticks stood up slowly to address Arclight again, "If you can tell me more about how these were affixed and how deep they are that'll make this job easier. If I'm to be honest, Arclight, it's going to get worse before it gets better. The bars  _ will _ come out, but you'll have to deal with the sensation of your plating opening. I can think of a couple solutions," they glanced nervously back at Patches before continuing, "We could either use local anesthetic, enough so that you don't feel the plates opening. You could see and hear them though, which would lead to plan B -putting you under -Which would be a lot of trust to put in us that I don't expect you'd have yet. I've... not studied enough to know other options..." another nervous look back at the CMOs, "But you have some choices to make with how we go about this. If you need something to hold while we deal with this, we can get you some blankets or pillows, or- I'd offer myself too if you'd rather hold onto a person.

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

"What are you, a palette?" Focus muttered, but stepped closer and crouched next to them, moving one servo as if to touch Salvo- guiding without actually touching at all. Might not like that. "You can clean the brush on the rim of the can so the paint goes back inside. Angle the brush like  _ this _ , and try that again, gentler. Now, do you  _ want _ to look like a palette, or do you want someone to get you the solvent to get that off yourself? It comes off more easily when fresh."

Red purred approvingly to Salvo, then cocked their helm, looking up past Focus. "You're kind of a dick," they observed softly, then offered him a tiny smile, winglets pricking up further. "Think I like you, though."

"Does tend to be only a reasonable level of dickish," Reaver chuckled, leaning over to get a look at Salvo's work. "Not bad. The nanites may take a bit longer on that side, but should handle it well. They process surface imperfections, small scrapes, and the like easily enough, and, in this case, will disperse the pigment particles as needed. They can actually detect areas of the same pigmentation to ensure that they don't muddy the patterns- clear and sharp natural patterns are an indicator of healthfulness. I'm going to do the fine details, for that reason- the nanites won't correct a crooked line like they will an uneven paint application." 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

"Arclight. Hello, sweetie," Patches crooned, and stepped just a bit closer, still not quite close enough to touch. "I'm here just to get a look at you, all right? I won't touch you. I'm just here to get a better look, figure out what we need to do to help. Now... please,  _ please _ don't touch those yourself, okay? We need to have a look and figure out the safest thing to do, but we  _ will _ get those out of you. You just... have to let us figure it out first. I promise we'll go as fast as we can."

*Yep. Point-one-percenter. Possibly a loadbearer, would explain how we're working on a living patient. I looped Patches in, he can hear ya- now let's  _ not _ mention the spark. Try not to use the word, even, if you can avoid it. Spark's fairly steady, it's not fluctuating... color's harder to read on green sparks, don't have the practice, but it doesn't look too bad. Probably, hopefully, just needs some fuel. And I am not forcing any sort of exam or treatment on this bot unless it's the only way to save 'em, so, yeah, no exam. We'll jus' see what we can during everything else. And, hey- they freak out, you get away, a'ight? Loadbearers in particular are real strong. Need you intact, Sticks:.*

Arclight started shaking again, and slowly brought both servos up, angled as if to grab at the pry bars- then glanced over, saw Scalpel watching intently, and reconsidered. Instead, after a moment of glancing between her and Sticks, he slowly, slowly wrapped his servos around Sticks' shoulders. Not too tight, not too hard, just enough to hold as they looked down again. "Not. Not sure. They're... braced, keep 'm from goin' further. Don't know. Don't watch. Just- try 'n bite him. Got 'm real good once. Got  _ mad _ . 's why. That," he explained, very softly, gesturing slightly towards his own face with one servo, then immediately put it back on Sticks. A deep vent, then another, then he slowly let go of Sticks and, optics on Scalpel, brought them up to his chassis. "Know how it works. These, up. They click. Click  _ hard _ . Don't- don't want- no an-anesthetics. Just." 

Shaking harder, he gripped Sticks' forearms in both servos and brought them up, to the uppermost of the bars, and kept them there. "Off."

With a quick comm of  _.:can you handle that and be all right?:. _ to Sticks, Patches raised both servos placatingly, purring softly to him. "That's a lot to put on yourself, sweetie. If it's what you want, we can go ahead, but... you have to tell us if you need to stop. And if you feel the need to hit someone,  _ please _ don't hit Sticks, you're a lot bigger than them and I'd hate for them to get hurt. If you want someone to hit, go for me. I'm very durable! As long as you don't aim at my face or servos, I'll be just fine, the worst you can do is put me on my aft. I won't mind, either. Now... if you're sure, we can work with that. Just pass your armor over to me, I'll get those bars off for you."

Vents hitching a few times, Arclight swallowed hard, gagged slightly, and shook his helm a couple of times, then looked down at Sticks and nodded once. "Sure. Do it." 

He wanted this over with. He wanted everything over with, but especially this. At least they were likely to be  _ gentle _ , and he was reasonably sure they weren't about to do anything other than get the bars off. The sympathy seemed genuine, and none of them had that  _ look _ to them. None of the hungry staring. Closest was the femme in the background, and that looked more... protective.

 

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

Salvo beamed a very quick wave of approval at Red for their comment, damn straight. "Oh hmm," he said, getting some more paint from the pot to start on another plate, "I figured I'd clean up after we're done for today. I don't think I'll get any  _ cleaner _ at this anytime soon so I might as well just wait till everything's done. And if it dries before then, no big deal." his visor brightened a bit in mischief, soon enough he'd find an exact way to poke at Focus, he could feel himself getting closer, "I don't really care about my paint. It gets a little more red in places? That's fine."

Unlike last time, some of the advice given to him seemed to stick. He held the brush a little differently like Focus had suggested, and managed to make a relatively clean stroke. He sat back slightly and grinned then went back to work, face already  _ very _ close to the plate, "Reaver you don't really  _ seem _ like a mech who'd constantly be redoing his own paint. How'd you get so good at this?"

.

Sticks looked almost scared as Arclight's servos retreated from their arms,  _ almost. _ For a moment they held onto the bar but a full-frame shiver rocked their servos loose.  _.:I'll be fine. I'll... definitely need a real good cry after this though:. _ They closed their optics for a klik and took a deep breath before addressing Arclight, "I will not be pulling on the bars. Patches has the right idea, take the whole plate off, remove that... fucking thing, rinse, repeat. I'd bet there's some sorta mechanism underneath if it- if it clicks, gotta get rid of that too." 

Sticks knelt down to the bottom edge and paused again, "I'm going to need to touch you to get at this plate. If you need me to back off I'm actually going to suggest you yell this time. As fun as splatting me against the wall or floor would be, it would likely delay the process of fixing you. So... keep that in mind.  I'm... I'm going to work on the latches now." With that they slid their fingers under the plate and began to search for every connection it had, all the while comming their associates,  _.:I haven't prayed to Primus in a while but I think... I think I might actually try it again. He's going to need all the help he can get if we need to give him a transfusion like you did with me... fuck:. _ They quickly wiped their face in their shoulder then moved up the side of Arclight's chassis,  _.:Any leads on who 'he' is? I'd like to help kill him if possible:. _

Within a few minutes, Sticks had released all the latches but one. They looked up at Arclight's face one last time, then grabbed the plate with both servos and released the final latch. The armor was heavy but relatively manageable. Sticks shifted a bit under the weight as they slowly pulled it away and handed it off to Patches.

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

"A combination of natural skill, practice with artistic forms of painting, and being recruited to help everyone else keep tidy," Reaver shrugged, using the edge of a claw to clean up a drip. "I find it meditative, and I enjoy it for... I suppose various other reasons, nothing I can pin down properly. Besides- people enjoy having this done, you see?" he purred, gesturing slightly to Red's face. They were starting to look much more relaxed, as if their nonexistent optics were shut most of the way, and there was the slightest hint of a purr on the edge of their ventilations. This was the good kind of attention, and the painting felt good, still. 

"Don't sneeze," Focus muttered, resisting the urge to bap Salvo on the back of the helm to close that last bit of distance, and circled around to sit in one of Reaver's chairs and watch. 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

Arclight fully expected Sticks to make use of the pry bars. That's what those were  _ for _ . Much faster than- 

He couldn't decide if this was worse. It wasn't the yanking, prying sensation of the bars, it wasn't familiar, but it took  _ longer _ . They didn't like  _ longer _ , didn't like being left to shake and watch and dread the cold air against their inner plating. The final latch giving way wrenched a much harsher shudder from them, and he brought both servos up as if to push Sticks away, but ended up with both his servos on the smaller bot's shoulders instead. He didn't push, either, just held, shaking.

Patches took the plating when it was offered, turning it over, and prodded at the end of one bar. It was curved somewhat, and, what... ah! Unpleasant! "I see how this works. Enough pressure in the right direction on these would open the latches near them. That's... absolutely terrible," he declared, and, pulling out a saw, set to work cutting the bars free. "We'll have to patch this in a few spots, fill in these gaps where those bars poke through."

Underneath that layer of plating, the scarring was... different. The lines were clearer for the newer sets, but the older ones were just about gone. The bars here were secured more delicately, with what looked like small hinges, and portions of the armor had been trimmed away to allow for that. The sparklight here was much more visible, now flickering faster in unease, and no wonder- this set of pry bars was hooked to a structure that looked like it would force much of Arclight's inner chassis plating to the sides, if not right out of his frame.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, but we really shouldn't be trying to cut that away while you're shaking this hard. That's going to have to come out, I'm afraid. I promise you'll get it back! And probably some new things to add to that, strengthen you up a bit. Do you think you can let Sticks get those off?" Patches asked, as softly as he could while raising his voice to be heard over the grinding of the saw, optics locked on what he was doing. No way in the Pit was he going to  _ not _ pay attention to the saw against his servos.

Arclight stared down at his own chassis, shaking so hard he was rattling Sticks a bit with his grip on them, then let go and slowly lifted his servos. This was a bit more precise, but he knew how it worked, and he was going to do it himself. A firm shove to one of the bars, resulting in, as he'd said, a sharp clicking noise, then he slowly lifted the piece of thinner inner plating away. That showed- it  _ should _ have showed the final, insulating shield layers over their spark, but there was nothing between his spark chamber and the air but the thin, insulating crystal over his very spark. And he was starting to shudder hard enough that he had to lock his servos onto Sticks' frame again for support, having removed only one of six plates.

_.:Go ahead, probably best to get this over with. Just... let him shake, keep talking, you're doing well. All you have to do is get through this, and then I'm sure Patches will hug you all you want. Pit- you can hang out on me if you want, as soon as we get done wi' this. As for the other one... don' reckon you'll find 'im alive. There's a lot of energon on that leash that ain't this one's. Sure hope that's who it belongs to, at least. And... good news is, doesn' look like 'e'll need a transfusion. Spark looks okay so far. And Primus is either nonexistent, dead, or a fucking sadistic bastard, far as I'm concerned. Just- get through it, yeah? We get all that out, we can get all the fuckery off, put everythin' back, let 'em calm down. Just- breathe, keep goin' unless you gotta stop:. _ Scalpel encouraged, and came just close enough to show Arclight a cup of energon. "Hey- this's yours as soon as you want it, yeah?"

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

"Hmm. Yeah I think I can get the appeal," Salvo said, smiling, he was beginning to get the hang of this. And Red, they  _ liked _ it. It was hard to be anything but cheerful with that tiniest hint of a purr. He looked back at his work, "Ooooh, you're gonna look so  _ good, _ Red. This paint's a great color. Once we get you all ready to go what do you say to a nice shiny waxing, huh? Dunno if you can do that on the same day you get your paint done, but even  _ I _ know how to do that." He hummed happily and wiggled in his seat, "Once we figure out your face situation so that you're comfortable being around people I've- I've got an idea."

Salvo sat up, looked to Red's face, and cleared his throat, "It's more a-uh- proposition- Not sex. But... what do you think about performing together? In front of people. You and me up on stage singing. We can both get all done up real nice and fancy." If he weren't wearing a visor, one might even see the stars in Salvo's optics, "I know you haven't met a whole lotta people on the ship, but just  _ imagine _ what a first impression that could be. You've got a great voice, Red, you'd floor everyone."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

_.:Mortilus is a much more reliable god, and a much kinder one at that. But their servo is not what we need here:. _ Sticks's face fell once again as they saw what they needed to do. Their optics wavered as they looked from the apparatus to Arclight's painfully bare spark. They couldn't distinguish between their own quivering and the shaking of the servos on their shoulders. Despite all efforts, they couldn't stop themself from letting out a quiet sob. They hung their helm and scrunched their face up as hard as they could. They grit their dentae so hard they felt their jaw ache and felt another sob force a tense wheeze from their vents. It took a few deep breaths for them to regain their voice. They leaned their helm against one of Arclight's servos and brought both of their own to embrace it for a moment.

A few moments later they ex-vented loudly and rubbed their face into their forearm, "I'm... sorry, Arclight. That... wasn't very professional of me. You're going to be okay. It's going to get better,  _ you're _ going to get better." Their voice seemed close to breaking, "It's going to get worse before it gets better, though. I don't know how to get those off without using this  _ fucking _ thing. But I'll- I'll make it quick, alright? Hold onto me when you need to. You're... going to be okay. You're going to be okay-" they wrapped both servos around another pry bar, "I'm so  _ sorry _ " they pulled with the weight of their entire frame with a pitiful grunt until they heard that awful click and quickly lifted the plate away to hand off to Scalpel. Their servos rattled against the handle for the next pry bar, "After all this is over let's- let's-" they pulled again, unable to keep another sob from their frame, "let's pile you up with all the blankets we have and-" they slowly pulled the third plate away, "and we'll get you a nice cup of energon, whatever flavor you like. We've got a bar, high-grade,  _ whatever _ you want,  _ -ngh, _ " another bar, another piece of armor off, another sickening click.

By the time the last of it was off, their entire frame was shaking, their breaths were ragged and heavy. They stepped back, wavering on their pedes, helm inclined to Arclight's face, colored a feverish green from the brightness of his sparklight, "Someone get a heater," they yelled hoarsely, "it's too fucking cold on this ship."

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

"That would be  _ lovely _ ," Reaver hummed, setting aside the paints for now, and moved to clean Red's upper arm. He worked fast, and the base layer was the easiest. "I have some paints you could borrow for stage makeup- simple paint that rinses off easily, meant only as something temporary. Or you could go with dim lights, relax back, let the focus be only on sound. Your choice." 

Red thought for a little while, leaning back, contemplating the idea, then flickered the tiniest bit of approval to Salvo. "For you? I'll- okay, yeah, I-I can... I'll think about it. Lot of attention, but... I-I used to sing. A little bit. I'll- I'l think," they declared, and settled back, that tiny purr slipping back into everything. 

.

Arclight in-vented harshly and tensed, managing to stop their trembling to some extent, mostly for Sticks' sake. Optics wide and almost showing something like  _ guilt _ at driving someone through this, they did their best to hold absolutely still, still gripping at Sticks' arms for support. Couldn't move. No matter how hellish the connotations of those clicks that seemed to thump through their entire chassis, they could not move. It was a struggle, every bit of their frame screaming to fight, to run, to do  _ something _ but sit here and let someone get them opened up and  _ vulnerable _ to-

And then his plating was gone and he was open, exposed, spark bared to the world. There should have been more armor in the way, and that was clear now- someone had cut it away along the sides. Cut it neatly, yes, but it was gone, and it left Arclight pitifully exposed and completely vulnerable. The crystal shield couldn't keep out anything stronger than dust or a few surges of energy, it would shatter in an instant, and it couldn't even contain the spark- tendrils curled out through it momentarily before curling back in, Arclight's very spark retreating from the world, but he didn't move to cover himself. Didn't dare.

Scalpel moved quickly with the inner plates, caving away the vile devices, and quickly smoothed the edges of the cuts before shoving them into Sticks' servos.  _.:Hey- help them with this. Make sure it settles back in how it was before. This much stress, can't take the time to fix the inner plating, we gotta get them closed up fast while Patches works on their outer plating. We're almost done:. _ she prompted, as encouraging as she could get when all she wanted to do was murder something, and paced quickly away before coming back with a battery-operated heater to set next to them. Might help a bit if Sticks got to put things back slightly better.  _.:Spark's healthy, at least. Scared as all Pit, but it's moving right, it's clear, it's there- fucking Primus, at least we don't have to deal with someone who's been raped to near death, can't do that again:. _

Patches was off in the background with a welder and a batch of metal bits, quickly fixing the gaps of the thickest plating so they could at least be covered up, and spoke up after a moment. "Would you rather a shower, sweetie? I can get some towels, and you can bundle yourself up in a corner of the shower with them, just uncover whatever you want to clean at any given time. Get nice and clean and comfy. I'm just patching up the holes in this, and then I'll hand it right back, okay? We're almost done here, sweetie, we're almost done, nearly, nearly," he crooned, not sure if it was at Sticks, Arclight, or himself.

Arclight shook until the inner plating was back, then, looking a bit like someone defiantly trying not to cry, gathered Sticks up before they could step away. He couldn't stand to put any sort of pressure against his chassis, even with the bars gone, but he clutched Sticks tight against his stomach as he tucked his knees up to trap them closer.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

"No pressure, Red! Only if you think it'd be fun," Salvo nodded matter-of-factly as he continued with the plates on their forearm, "I used to go to these... concerts wouldn't really describe em, maybe we'll call em... musical get-togethers. Buncha people in a room, there's a stage and a mic and someone who sings into the mic but he's... more of a leader than a performer." he chuckled softly, "It's a very loud and drunken kinda deal where everyone sings. Lots of call-and-response songs. You harmonize when you can, sing when you know the words. And everybody cheers at the end of each song- well not everybody, but you know, you're in the mood to cheer." He paused for a moment to check his work, angling Red's arm to see the coverage, almost done, "Used to be stationed with this group of construction bots, few spaceport bots too. They could wail the top off a tent, tell ya what. Took a while but after a few get-togethers I got the gist of most of the songs. Work songs, drinking songs, some real crooners. Couple of em had instruments too."

Salvo sighed and pulled back, making sure he'd gotten all their armor before checking to see what Reaver was doing. A quick nod and he set the brush down to lay down the layer of polish on Red's upper arm, "It was a good time. Everyone... everyone was happy, at least in that room everyone was happy. Figure we could use something like that around here..." For about a minute he worked in silent thought. But before he realized it, he was humming something -a work song that'd been on his glossa recently. He inclined his helm a bit towards Red. He couldn't tell if they were paying attention when he'd sung it around them, figured someday they'd learn.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/17/2019**

_ Again? _ Sticks shuddered. A single word hadn't struck such fear into them in a long time. Could they do this again? This was part of the job- part of the road they chose for themself- seeing the depths of depravity from their own kind, having to keep a steady servo through it all.  _ Again. _ They didn't know if they could.

But then they felt Arclight's servos around them and they reached their arms around what they could of his stomach, burying their face in his plates. Their arms were weak. They'd always been so, and putting them through the strain of pulling the mech's armor off only made them even more tired. They hugged as best they could, against the quiet protests of their muscle cables. And they thought. They'd been the only one who could keep close enough to help the mech.  _ They'd _ been the one to remove his armor. Whether he'd calmed down through their help or not, they were the one in his lap. Could they do it again? 

They would. 

Until nobody needed their help anymore, they would.

Sticks couldn't help another sob, louder than the rest. It twisted inside their chassis like a malicious servo. They could feel tears dripping down their face in earnest this time but didn't move to wipe them away. They wouldn't let go. Another few deep breaths to try to steady themself were only mildly successful and it took a few tries for them to find their voice again. It was quiet, crackling at the edges like paper lit aflame, "Hold me as long as you need to. You're safe. You're going to be alright," they let out something between a sob and a laugh, "Can't promise I won't cry again, though. Sh-Shower would do you good. First thing most bots do here, shower. Once you get that big plate back on and settled, I can- I can walk you over there, okay?"

 

##  **Betta132** **01/17/2019**

"Used to sing for... whatever unit I was with at the time," Red contributed softly, quietly, and shifted carefully to lean into Salvo's frame for a moment. "They kept putting me with the new bots. They were always... all so  _ nervous _ . But it helped if someone sang for them. Or in the medbay. I don't... I don't like  _ rowdy _ , I like calm, but... I would like to sing somewhere happier," they decided, quietly, and bumped their forehelm into Salvo's arm before sitting up again. 

"I'd imagine a quieter environment would help you figure things out a bit more than if it was echoing," Reaver hummed, lingering in one spot, then glanced up to Salvo. "On these scars, the best thing to do is give them a good scrubbing with the cloth, then paint over. They're all... yes, it looks like they're all old enough to heal fine covered. Fresher things, you shouldn't paint over." 

.

"Hi, Sticks," Patches crooned, coming up just close enough to pass them the patched-up piece of plating, and paused to give them a firm rub in the general area of their upper back. "Almost done, the both of you. Arclight, I will happily refine that for you later, or give you the tools to do it yourself, but I thought you'd prefer speediness over tidiness. Now- just sit still while I run a scan on you, and then you can go," he declared, running the second quick scan he'd done with this patient. The first had been on a bot cowering in a corner, so this was much better. Well. For a bit.

Arclight tensed and  _ hissed _ at the sensation of the scan washing over him, shuddering, and grabbed his armor away from Sticks. The gaps for the pry bars were covered with metal now, welded on and still fairly hot, and he examined that for approximately three instants before fitting it into place. This was much easier than the internal plating- just the one piece of armor that had to be put into the right place, the latches snapped together. A sharp flinch as all the latches click-snapped one after the other, then he whimpered and gathered Sticks tighter, gagging once more before starting to tug on the shackles around his legs.

"Yeah, yeah, hold still a nanoklik," Scalpel muttered, moving in to undo the straps, and huffed when Arclight's standing up brought Sticks with him. "-you gonna carry- yeah, a'ight, guess the worst you can do is fall on yer aft. Try not to drop 'em. Shower's that way."

Patches bustled around at something near his top speed to grab the energon and a few towels, depositing them into the shower, then stepped well back out of the way. "All right! Go on," he soothed, then, wincing just a fraction, COMMed Sticks.  _.:I'm sorry, sweetie. I hate to put you through this, but we need someone small, and I don't dare try and get Acus to help with someone on a leash who looks this... harrowed. I am so, so sorry. But look what you've done- look at them now! They're awake, we helped them without having to strap them down for long, and we've repaired them as much as we can at the moment. Besides that, they're not bound up any more, their face at least is cleaned up, and, look- those barbaric little devices are out of their frame for good. You helped! You helped immensely. I don't know what it is that's causing the problems, not specifically, but I don't think we could have managed to calm them down like this without you. Good job, Sticks. Good, good job. Please try to relax if you can, and let me know if you need anything, okay? I'm here, I promise:. _

Arclight was a bit unsteady on his pedes, but he managed to keep Sticks in his arms, not daring to leave them anywhere in this state. Quivering a bit but whimpering in something like relief, he shut the door to the washracks, turned them on, and immediately crammed himself into the corner, curling up into a little ball around Sticks. A few quick motions to just about cover him in towels, and his quivering began to ease- even though that meant being covered in steadily dampening cloth. Odd sensation, that, but... good. Comfortable. Safe. 

After a few moments, he brought one servo up to, awkwardly, stroke one of Sticks' audials, giving them a tighter squeeze. "It-it's okay," he managed, optics shut tight against the world, hiding himself as well as possible under the towels and trying to comfort the little bot who'd been so upset by helping him. He must have been reminding them of- oh, Primus, things that didn't bear thinking about, and absolutely not things that anyone should ever be reminded of. Poor, helpful, empathetic thing. 

Arclight wasn't letting go. Probably should have loosened his grip a bit, though. Hungry or not, he  _ was _ a loadbearer, and Sticks was tiny.

January 18, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

Salvo stopped humming for a moment but didn't break his gaze away from his work, "Good to know, I mean it makes sense. Anything newer would probably be too sore as well." His second application of polish went much quicker than the first and soon he was off to painting Red's forearm. He flashed a smile at them, "I bet they loved that. Hearin' someone come sing to them as they were recovering. A couple times I woke up to Sticks singin to me- made me feel like everything was alright. Didn't last too long of course but that was... extenuating circumstances." He paused for a moment to sigh, then continued, dipping his brush in the same red paint, "You have any interest in doing that here sometime? I could check ahead to see if it'd be a good time to come in. Show up, sing some songs for the bots still recovering. I'm sure they'd at least appreciate the company. Though-" Salvo let out a wry chuckle, "not really the happiest space."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

There was something slightly alarming to being picked up by a very weak stranger who they'd just spent the better part of an hour attempting to treat, but it was not surprising. This was their territory now. They'd spent so many hours being quietly held by bots in their last moments and were beginning to get used to the reality that they were becoming a comfort for even living bots. It felt good, on some level, deep down beneath the layers of despair and disgust and existential fear invoked by the whole incident. They'd take the moment to do what they knew, at last. They replied to Patches after a moment of silence,  _.:I've... I've got this, I think. Thank you, Patches:. _

It seemed Arclight was... trying to comfort them, which was enough to inspire a great deal of compassion within Sticks's mind. They took the moment to try to relax in his arms. His grip was tight. They imagined they'd be sore later, all over, probably emotionally sore as well. They concentrated for a moment on the water hitting their frame, on the sensations of Arclight around them, and felt a bit of their tension leave, enough so they could think. They'd noticed it quite a few times by now, bots in dire straights clinging to others in an effort to comfort them. Perhaps it was a minuscule act of control, with positive consequences, or maybe it was concentration on something else- alleviate your own burden by placing it upon someone else and then comforting them. Either way the right road seemed to be to distract, currently.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

Sticks took a deep breath and finally turned away from Arclight's chassis long enough to hold a servo out and catch some warm water to scrub their face with. The marvels of water did quite a lot to calm them down. They could feel the beginnings of sorrow's sour wake in their chassis. A few more deep breaths and they spoke, "It- it is okay. It's all over now. Hold onto me as long as you need, I'm here for you." they were almost confident as they spoke, the only thing that gave them away was a slight uneasy waver they couldn't quite get rid of, "Everything's okay. You made it. You're safe. You'll have a room here, with a berth and as many pillows and blankets as you could ever want. It might take a few days to get you set up with a permanent room on the ship proper but you're welcome here." they felt their throat clench as they continued, speaking with a definite fondness, "The people here are good, they respect you. We all look out for each other. I-I mean, we even have a  _ therapist. _ So when I say you're safe, I mean it. Well and truly."

Sticks quieted down and simply stayed there for a while, letting the warm water wash over them in silence. They were not in the best place to monitor Arclight's vitals but they paid close attention to his body language, the evenness of his vents. Eventually their field shimmered out around them, kept close to their frame, reading something just the slightest bit hopeful. They loathed to break the silence but did so quietly, almost timid, "Do you want to try another cup of energon? Patches left it on the bench over there. I can go get it for you."

##  **Betta132** **01/18/2019**

"Or dying," Red contributed, very softly, but didn't -couldn't- fall into that pit. Not with two people they very much liked paying all this attention to them. Instead, they listened, thought, and spoke, very quietly indeed. "They said the walls are different colors than white, to make it a bit less unpleasant, and it's... it doesn't sound bad. Quiet. 's clean. Don't... don't hear people dying, not here. Might be, but... can't hear 'em." 

"There are definitely not people dying in there," Reaver confirmed, then, after a moment, picked up the tune Salvo had been humming. Low and deep, almost purring, somehow managing to echo the sound off all the walls in the room. His voice  _ carried _ when he wanted it to, and he wanted it to, in this circumstance. 

Red's winglets ticked up at the noise, and they listened intently before joining in, their voice a layer or two higher than his. Their voice physically couldn't go that  _ low _ . 

.

Arclight realized after a moment that they were smushing Sticks, loosening their grip with an apologetic noise, and watched them for a little while before slowly letting go entirely. Shrugging the towels away slightly, he carefully set Sticks on their pedes and looked over at the energon, something between hope and apprehension in their optics as they eyed it.  _ Primus _ they were hungry. They hadn't actually been  _ hungry _ , hadn't wanted to drink anything, in a long time. Not when they knew what it meant. But here...

Those were medics. He didn't trust medics, not really. Except he'd read about it, he knew the anatomy required to- ugh- was extremely rare. They probably didn't have it. So he actually wanted to drink, wanted to stop the gnawing hunger in the background of his every sensory input. So, when Sticks got close enough, Arclight took the cup and drained it, optics flickering slightly as he shrugged the towels away further.

After a moment, he started to look around in earnest, locating the supply cabinet. A quick stretch up to get into it, and, hm- what seemed appropriate? His paint was already trashed, so he selected a fairly stiff brush, rougher than what most would choose- it would scratch someone's paint up something terrible. It seemed appropriate here, though, especially because what Arclight wanted to do right now was to strip the paint streaks from his front. Which, huddling back into the towels, he did, armor fluffed slightly along his back and sides into the heat of the water. He wasn't talking, wasn't really looking at Sticks any more, was just staring at his front as he took a rough brush to everything. It couldn't exactly have been comfortable, but the paint streaks were coming  _ off _ , stripped away in tiny flakes, and they took some of the haunted look in his optics with them. Off, off, off, had to get it off,  _ disgusting _ \- get it  _ off _ \- blunted claws clamped tighter around the handle and his other servo dug into the bench, actually putting a few dents into it with his fingertips despite the claws having been cut off.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

Salvo looked over to Reaver, visor bright. Dare he consider another member for his dream band? He found himself much too close to Red's arm (again) and sat back a bit. As that verse came to an end, he paused, a bright look on his face, "Construction song, used to sing it whenever you needed a bunch of bots to move something big- or so I was told. Sounds better with some percussion, I think. People used to get up and stamp their pedes to the beat. Good luck sleeping with that going on," Salvo chuckled and once again dipped his brush into the paint, "Song's easy enough to learn. Chorus goes like-" he cleared his throat and began to sing in earnest, " _ Gravel and sand and metal and dirt, Move 'im up, move 'im up, move 'im up someone, Grounders we are ne'er parted from earth. Lift 'im up, lift 'im up, lift 'im up someone. _ " His voice was clear and loud- louder than intended. It took a few kliks after he'd finished to realize he'd been projecting a bit too much. He quieted down a bit and continued into the first verse, tapping his knee to the beat of the song as he continued to paint.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

Sticks sighed and stepped back to watch Arclight. This was by all means a good sign, the mech was displaying some agency, finally. They had a feeling he was not interested in help. If this was something he could do on his own, it might bring him just the slightest bit of peace. But- that couldn't have felt good, that rough brush going against those spidery scars. They shuddered, recalling what Patches had told them earlier, what those infernal paint marks meant. It almost hurt to watch him. 

Sticks decided to retrieve some things from the cabinet he'd forgotten- or simply didn't care about. They'd figured out within the first few weeks just what it took to get up to the high cabinets, a little tricky but luckily their legs weren't quite as tired as their arms. They crouched down for a moment, angling themself away from Arclight, then sprung forward, leaping from the bench to the wall then finally catching the top edge of the cabinet with their servos. They were quick to haul themself up onto the top as their arms protested quite a bit louder now. Opening the door, they fished out a couple bottles, then paused to comm Patches and catch their breath,  _.:He's trying to get the paint marks off. Using a real coarse brush which seems to be working. I'll suggest he use some coarse buffing paste to try to get them off without hurting too much, but I'm not sure he'll go for it, seems sort of feverishly concentrated. I'll keep an optic on him, make sure he doesn't start hurting himself badly:. _ They peered over the side to make sure he wasn't doing exactly that and continued  _.:Have you contacted Notepad yet? Best give them some time to prepare for... this:. _ They sighed deeply and tried not to think about what Arclight had been through.

Sticks clutched both bottles to their chassis and gently pushed themself off the cabinet, making sure to roll this time as they hit the ground. They slid a bit and didn't manage to make it all the way back up to standing with that momentum but eventually made their way over to Arclight. They placed both bottles down on the bench and carefully addressed him, "I've got some things here to help you with that if you want. First-" they placed their servo on one bottle, "Some buffing paste. It's real coarse but should be nicer on your armor than the brush, can always combine the two as well. And this-" they moved to touch the other bottle, pushing it back to the wall, "this is for afterward. Oily, helps keep infections out and should take some of the sting out of those... abrasions." 

They took a deep breath and stood back up straight again, shoulders back, it was hard to look professional when in the shower but they gave an attempt, "Tell me if you want any help. I'll do what I can."

##  **Betta132** **01/18/2019**

"That one might be a bit silly to involve me in," Reaver chuckled, lifting his wings, now working his way up Red's upper arm with the brush. "But if it's percussion you want... Crucible has a decent audial for that. He was a construction bot of some variety for awhile, I believe, and that always seems to carry a love for percussion instruments and deep-tone songs. Possibly because they tend to be heavy bots with deep voices who hear a lot of percussion-esque sounds. Or... Avalon, I suspect you could get some fascinating devices out of Avalon if you tried. Have you met him? He's the bot with the, ah,  _ beyond _ makeshift armor who doesn't speak in any sort of words. He's a clever builder, a former miner, and... probably older than any two of us combined. Possibly any  _ three _ of us," he noted, pausing to make sure his brush got every nook and cranny of an old, broad scar. Nothing too sinister, just a wide weld mark from where the armor had been repaired instead of replaced after a serious cut. A bit surprisingly given their past, most of Red's scars were actually nothing all that worrying- just the assortment of scars that people tended to pick up during a war. 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/18/2019**

_.:Good plan, but, honestly? As long as he isn't causing any serious damage or upsetting himself with the pain, let him. It's a pretty common response, and at least he isn't scrubbing anywhere particularly delicate. And I'm... yeah, I'm gonna let Notepad know, but... I'm not gonna try and make him do therapy any time soon. Probably gonna shut down if we try and get him to talk, if he talks at all. Are you doing okay, Sticks? This- this is a hard one. And if it's any consolation, you're not likely to see anything like this again, this is... this is really bad. Just. Breathe. Okay, sweetie? You'll be okay, and... I can't promise anything, but this is Arclight's best chance at being okay. How- how about this? Talk me through any improvements you're seeing:. _ Patches prompted gently, making a face as he kicked some of the pry bars into a heap.  _.:I'm putting all this slag in a box. If he wants it later, to burn or melt or otherwise ruin, it's here. If he never wants to see it again, I'll melt it myself!:. _

Arclight stopped as Sticks hit the ground, looking somewhere between confused, wary, and concerned, and watched for a moment before reaching to take the buffing paste. An extra bit of scrubbing wouldn't hurt anything. A quick squeeze of the bottle, then he set to work again, moving his way down his frame. The paste meant things went faster, but he didn't let up on the scrubbing, speed or pressure- he had to keep going. Had to get it  _ off _ . 

The scrubbing got faster, neat circles decaying into quicker, faster, more erratic motions, and Arclight's vents hitched sharply as they watched the paint flecks. Blue and white, odd colors for a medic, but  _ fuck _ did they stand out against the dead grey of bare plating. Dear Primus they  _ hated _ those colors, blue and white, blue and fucking  _ white _ , and Arclight curled up slightly into himself and  _ sobbed _ as he kept going. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he shut his optics and shivered once more, armor clamping tight against his frame and then fanning out again all down his back. This was something different, though. This wasn't... wasn't pain or fear. It was something much softer, quieter,  _ relieved _ , as they scoured the blue and white free of their own frame. No more cuffs, no more leash or muzzle, no more paint streaks or  _ pry bars _ -

##  **Betta132** **01/18/2019**

When the streaks were gone, he shuddered once more and dropped the brush, moving only to pick up the bottle of paste again. Applying it thickly to both his servos, he rubbed it between his palms, then around his wrists and ankles, then up and around his face and neck. It couldn't cause any damage, not like this, but the scrubbing sensation was  _ satisfying _ . A shudder more like relief or invigoration, and he moved slightly into the full spray of the water to rinse himself free. 

Looking so, so much better than before, he blinked a few times, looking around the shower stall, then to Sticks.

Sticks wanted to help. Poor little bot was clearly upset by this, and no wonder- dear Primus, what were the others doing, making them remember? Fucked up. Gesturing slightly, he lured Sticks closer and caught both their servos, intending to do  _ something _ -

But remembered that, no. Bad idea.  _ Medic _ . Medic servos. Sensitive. He'd spent so long trying to bite his captor, he  _ knew _ what it could potentially do, and he knew it went the other way. So they let go quickly, then picked up the oil, contemplating it for an instant before presenting it to Sticks. They wanted to help? He'd... he wouldn't mind letting them help. 

...not least because his chassis was starting to hurt a bit. Especially the  _ marks _ , the damned things radiating out from under his outer chassis armor. They burned. He would have tried to scrub those away, too, except that he didn't know how deep they actually went. They might not come off with scrubbing. 

Optics on Sticks again, they swallowed hard, cycled their vents once, and managed the tiniest, sputtering purr from his engines. Encouraging. Trying to bait Sticks a bit closer. Little bot, delicate servos... felt good. 

Dimly, he wondered if he ought to be objecting more to the touches. But... no. Didn't think so. Sticks was little. Delicate. Easy to pick up, to move, to escape from. And he'd... he'd never exactly been  _ snuggly _ , but mutual grooming felt so  _ good _ . Nobody got to take that away.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

"Listen," Salvo said jokingly, gesturing with the brush, another splatter of red paint joined the smattering already on his face, "You know how many of the songs that came outta that group were about the wonders of a good spikedown? Good songs are good songs. If I'm allowed to sing about interface, you're allowed to sing about being a grounder," He chuckled, "S'all silly out of context anyway."

Salvo realized he'd lost focus again and leaned in close to Red's upper arm. It almost looked uncomfortable hunched over like he was. "Besides," he said, a bit quieter, he was concentrating, "if I ever write a song about being a gun that's meant to be sung by a lotta people, how do you think I'd ever get people to hear it? Sure it'd be silly for someone to call themself a gun when they're obviously a vehicle or a lamppost but otherwise it'd be, what, me and Sharpshot? Who'd wanna hear that." He made to wipe one of the paint splatters from his face and smudged it across his cheek instead, "It's all about coming together and sharing what you can do with the rest of the community, yanno, really  _ making _ something. And I'd  _ love _ to get Crucible and Avalon involved, are you kidding? They'd both have such unique things to bring to the group."

He was dreaming out loud again. 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

_.:If we find another like this, I'll... I'll do what needs to be done. But I hope to Primus we don't. I think we tell him about the box of evil once he's settled a bit. Too much...:. _ Sticks watched as Arclight stood up and washed themself off in the shower. They seemed significantly better, there was hope yet.  _.:Too much at once. I'll- I'll give you an update, you'll... you'll like it:. _ Sticks looked up into Arclight's face and gave them a very bittersweet, exhausted, tiny smile, "I'll help you with this, sure. I just need a towel to dry off those parts first, hmm?" 

Sticks set down the bottle on the floor and walked to grab one of the dry towels from the bench,  _.:First off, he cried, finally. Just for a little bit but that's so, so, much better than silence:. _ They looked over their shoulder at the mech, standing there, and headed back,  _.:He's been mostly quiet the whole time- managed to get rid of the paint marks and even cleaned himself up a little bit:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/18/2019**

Sticks reached down slowly to grab Arclight's servo with their own and very gently led them slightly away from the main stream of water to which they'd still get the warmth of the spray on their back but their front could be kept dry. "There we go," they murmured as they let go of Arclight. They took up the towel in both servos and looked up again into his face, "Don't try to power through this if it gets too much. It's gonna sting a little bit. You just push me away if you need to."

It was only as they drew closer, towel in servo, that Sticks could hear the mech's purr over the rushing of the water. They paused for a moment as a wave of emotion washed over them but managed to continue through, beginning to hesitantly, very gently, dab the water away from one of the scoured spots on his lower chassis.  _.:Patches you're not gonna believe this he's... he's purring:. _ They worked bit by bit, drying off an area and then gently applying the oily salve with the lightest touch they could muster, and talked a bit, "I almost hate to ask about fuel now, but if you're not feeling up for liquids, we have- Patches makes candy. I can ask him to bring you some if you'd like." They couldn't reach all of the spots, but even so didn't dare venture into Arclight's central chassis area without thoroughly demonstrating to him what they were doing. 

Finally they were presented with the sight of those awful scars. Sticks had worked around them thusfar but could not avoid them any longer. They took a deep in-vent, remembering the feeling of Forceps's fingers against their own set, the prickling, surprising pain. As they let it out they began, first coating their fingertips in salve, then drawing them carefully over the area. 

"You even scrubbed into some of your scars, I don't know how you could do that," Sticks said quietly, "They're awful aren't they. Hurt more than they should."

##  **Betta132** **01/18/2019**

"Hm, fair point. At least I can pitch my voice low enough," Reaver noted, and worked a bit further up Red's arm, contemplating things as he went. "This layer is the very base. Over this, we'll put the highlights in those two other colors. Might do part of this base layer in one of those other colors in the first place. Let that dry, then the details. Ordinarily I might spend the time waiting for the main paint to dry on someone's servos, but... not here. I suppose I could use the time to get you cleaned up. Or you could embrace it- speckle as many colors as you'd like across your frame. I used to know a mech who cared for sparklings, who would let the young ones pick out his detail colors and apply them. It actually worked out rather well with a few tweaks, he was the sort who could pull off... let's call it a  _ whimsical _ appearance," he sighed, almost fondly, lingering around another scar. "I loved that when I was small, and when I got older, I would help him to even his patterns out a bit. He couldn't reach his back for himself. I have a lot of paints, and they aren't too hard to replace or re-make... you're welcome to experiment." 

.

_.:Good! That's very, very good. Now... some people decompress a bit violently when out of a dangerous situation. I don't think he will, he doesn't seem too violently inclined now that we aren't doing anything upsetting, but... if he does end up expressing any sort of violent impulses, please take care of yourself. If he absolutely needs someone to lash out at, there are bots more durable than you who could put up with it. For now, keep doing whatever it is you're doing, all right? But be aware of yourself and of his body language. He's... I suspect a loadbearer, by spark shape. Loadbearer sparks tend to... reach more, for lack of a better word, spread out into the frame further. It's what lets them extend their control into foreign limbs better. Point-one-percenters in general, but especially loadbearers, are unusually strong. Have you met any before?:. _

Arclight sat again and bundled themself up slightly in the wet towels, optics soft, and looked Sticks up and down before slowly, slowly reaching out to them. Touching their arms ever-so-softly, he coaxed them in a fraction closer, then settled his servos on their sides and just... held. Gently, so gently, not wanting to trap this delicate little thing. So small. They hadn't seen many bots this small, ever. Didn't find small bots working docks except sometimes in the data-keeping jobs. And dear Primus- who'd hurt them? 

Such delicate little servos, so soft, so gentle. Arclight's purring had just about vanished as he inspected the scars, but it reappeared after a moment or two more of contact, even if it still hurt a bit. The salve helped, and the  _ touching _ . Arclight would have liked to return the favor, but he was fairly sure his servos would start shaking again if he let go of Sticks' frame at all. 

The carefullest trace of a thumbtip over one of the raised scars, mercifully part of only one set, then Arclight leaned in so closely that no one could possibly ever hear them. "Thank you," he whispered, then "is he here?" much softer, starting to gather the bot closer, tracing a fingertip along one of Sticks' scars. Dear  _ Primus _ he hoped the bot responsible wasn't on the ship. These scars went proportionately much further across their chassis than Arclight's did, must have been a bot bigger than them, so- Primus. It'd be a wonder if they survived another attack. 

Maybe Arclight could stop that. He was strong. He had welders, and those made decent weapons if he tried. And he didn't have much else to  _ lose _ .

  
  


January 19, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/19/2019**

"And ruin my less-than-coherent, patchy paint? I've got a disheveled aesthetic to keep up!" Salvo gently laughed, "jokes aside that's... that's a lovely memory. I'd have loved to have met him then." He frowned a bit, "If we're switchin' colors soon you gotta let me know soon cause I'm on a roll with this red. Just lost in this color," snickering, he drew his finger down one of the plates to catch a drip, "To be honest it sounds like it'd be a fun time for just about everyone. Wonder if Blackspark's kid would be into it. I'd volunteer if nobody else did." Salvo shifted as an amused smile spread across his face, "Actually Blackspark seems the type who'd be into that, too. Now  _ that _ would be something. Get the kid some real bright colors across that pitch black paint, let em go to town. Though, I dunno," he shrugged, "his paint's already odd to begin with, would not be surprised if that was the one thing he drew a hard line about."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/19/2019**

_.:I'll keep that in mind:. _ Sticks couldn't respond to Patches's question, nor did they feel they could really respond to Arclight's either. There was something ominous about the servos on their frame, Patches's words, the subject turning to them. They could feel hot guilt bubble up inside them, but they owed him an explanation. Regardless of whether he could rip them apart with little effort or not, they wanted to trust him. So they did.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/19/2019**

"Well..." Sticks said quietly, avoiding looking into his optics, "yes... and no. I did it to myself. I'm not proud of it. It's not a story I like telling, nor would it be something you should hear right now but... I don't want you to get the wrong impression after this absolute nightmare you've been through. I-" they hesitated for a klik, "I jumpstarted a corpse- tried to. They got up and ran away, took a significant amount of my... of  _ me _ with em and left me with..." They drew a finger along the edge of their belly, following one of their scar's prickly branches. Their breath started to catch just a bit as they continued, "I saw you and my first thought was of that... tearing pain, the evidence of it  _ all over _ your chassis- countless times. If just once had done... what it had done to me, and you were  _ alive _ then..." They shuddered deeply and touched a couple fingers to their face, "I got treatment here. It was a... short process but one of the most terrible things I'd gone through since the event. This whole time, the more I found about your condition, I was so incredibly, profoundly worried you'd need the same treatment. As bad as it was for me, it couldn't possibly touch as bad as it could be for you," Sticks finally looked up into Arclight's optics, "We think you'll heal fine on your own. I don't want to say you don't have to worry about it, that would invite misfortune. If it does need to happen I'll do my best to prepare you for it, you have my word. But... I'm cautiously optimistic."

"However bad the procedure was... they fixed me in a matter of  _ hours. _ If you had an injury proportional to what I had, however many magnitudes so, as bad as it could be, they could fix it. I was sure, I still am. I wanted you to know that, no matter how bad it was you were going to make it through- they could save you," Sticks sighed and gently held Arclight's servo in their own, "Patches told me real quick I'd said the wrong thing and I know it now.  If an apology will help at all, I am well and truly sorry. But I'll stand by what I said, at least in this moment where it's more appropriate. This is a healing place, we're all healing from our own traumas. You spend enough time around these folks and, I won't promise you'll find peace, but you'll find  _ something _ "

##  **Betta132** **01/19/2019**

"Hm. I think we'll be on this color for a little while yet. And Blackspark... I suspect he'd prefer no permanent or semi-permanent modifications. Nor am I completely sure how well paint would  _ work _ on him, I'm not sure if that intense darkness is down to something more specialized than simply pigmentation. It's fascinating, isn't it, that coloration? Or... lack thereof, I suppose. In the right lighting he looks like nothing more than a hole in reality. With a vaguely smug expression half the time. Must remember to ask him how he does that- if it  _ is _ just pigmentation, I would love to experiment with it," Reaver hummed, then chuckled, cheek slits flaring slightly in a 'blush'. "Though... if we're talking temporary paints? He's borrowed my blacklight paints a few times. I can only imagine what he wants with  _ those _ ." 

.

Arclight cycled through a few traces of emotions, chief among them surprise and then something akin to quiet outrage, and their servos tightened a fraction on Sticks' arms. It took a moment for their processor to catch up to everything, and they  _ felt _ it not wanting to catch up, so they let go of Sticks and reached to get another cup of energon. The surge of energy that came a moment later brought clarity, and they ex-vented long and soft, turning back to Sticks with an expression of  _ relief _ . Oh. Primus. Okay. 

Wrong thing to say, indeed. They'd misunderstood, and badly. Sticks hadn't been  _ anywhere _ near clear enough. But, fuck, it was hard to be upset with Sticks for  _ not _ having been assaulted. And they hadn't actually  _ lied _ , just... been unclear. Okay. 

But. Hm. If Sticks hadn't been... then, perfect, Arclight could handle them a bit. Wouldn't hurt anything. Reaching out, they gathered Sticks up close, outright into their lap, and reached for the salve. They missed the first try, though. Too... hm. Too  _ spread _ . Sticks was here, and Sticks was definitely touching his lap and front. The rest was... not quite...  _ there _ . Another blink or two, then he sighed, managing to grab the salve, and contemplated it for a moment before beginning to apply it to the scars he could still see. 

Mutual grooming. Had to be  _ mutual _ . Felt... good, Arclight decided vacantly, leaning down to nuzzle into their forehelm. After a moment more of the delicate touches, as the pain began to ease away, that tiniest thread of a purr found its way back to them. It had been so long since someone had touched him like  _ this _ , and never someone this small... and it felt so, so good. Optics dimming, he pulled one of the soaked towels up to drape over his shoulders, curling a bit further around Sticks. And, noticeably, he wasn't shaking any more.

January 20, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

"Huh, wouldn't think he'd be the type for glow-in-the-dark fingerpainting but, yanno, what do I know," Salvo said, putting the final touches on Red's upper arm. The two of them seemed to be working pretty quickly. He decided he definitely liked doing this, especially for Red. He switched over to the polish again and moved up to Red's shoulder armor, "You do the... whole frame, Reaver? I'm just thinking, arms are the uhh... the easy part." He imagined Reaver's servo between his thighs, the sensation of a paintbrush on his outer panel. Could get awkward real quick. Or sexy he supposed. His visor dimmed slightly as he squinted, thinking, "hmm, probably not a good idea to interface with wet paint," he mumbled to himself.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

Sticks flinched slightly as Arclight's servos seemed to close around them, Patches's warning still echoing in their mind, but relaxed as he drew them closer. That... seemed like forgiveness, of a sort. They were careful as they settled into his lap, watching, slightly confused as he seemed to wave his arm past the salve.  _.:He seems disoriented but that's-:. _ They felt his fingers touch against their front and shuddered.  _.:to be expected:. _ They let out a quiet, pitiful noise as the scars stung a bit at his provocation. But Arclight was gentle. It was the first time those scars had been treated with anything like care. By the time Sticks had access to the supplies to treat them, they simply accepted the occasional prickling sensation against their chassis as fact, unchangeable. They remembered the hours they'd spent scrubbing guiltily at the marks with as much sand as they could hold in their damaged servo -the sharp pain that dimmed to prickly embers for days after. It was an experience they'd wish Arclight to avoid if it was even the slightest bit possible.

Sticks closed their optics for a moment as the salve sank in, replacing the slight sting with cool numbness. They let their frame relax into Arclight's arm with a long sigh and opened their optics again to resume their work. Emboldened by the display of care, they slowly worked their way onto his main chassis plate. They could see the multitude of scratch marks from the brush and reached over to grab a large servo-ful of salve. Two fingers brushed against the surface with a delicate touch. They didn't linger long, lest the horrible image of the mech's achingly stripped spark haunt their thoughts. 

As at last the salve disappeared from Sticks's servos and covered Arclight's main plate, they looked up into the glow of his optics and very hesitantly brought a servo up to draw the backs of their fingers across his jaw, moving back towards his audial. This wasn't strictly necessary, they realized but it was becoming clear to them the mech hadn't experienced anything close to sweetness in a long time. They were unsure, though, knowing at least that they had a lot to learn about treating traumatized bots, and pulled their servo away before long. A quiet in-vent, "Would you like me to get your neck, too?"

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

"Finger _ ing _ painting," Red muttered, smirking, then turned slightly to contemplate Reaver. Mostly Reaver and the possibilities of... hm. That  _ could _ get a little bit... concerning. Possibly. 

Reaver gave a very undignified snort, lifting the brush away to chuckle for a moment without messing up any lines, then sighed and nodded once. "Yes. It would look a bit odd to only do the non-sensitive areas, after all. Best thing to do for the more sensitive areas is to be quick, and potentially have someone else be distracting. Hm- ordinarily I'd say Focus is a bad one to be distracting, but that could do it," he mused, and glanced down at Red to explain. "-ah, he is  _ unfairly _ attractive, terribly distracting for most." 

"Yes, you're missing out terribly," Focus declared, striking an attractive pose in the chair, then purred and shifted a bit. "Would you like me to pose for snaps? I am far too pretty to be missed out on," he declared, then sputtered in outrage when Reaver threw a (clean) paintbrush at him. "Excuse  _ me _ -" 

\-----

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

_.:Not at all surprising. I've had more than a few patients dissociate somewhat after being pulled from a stressful situation, that's not uncommon, or we get odd adrenaline reactions. As long as it doesn't start getting noticeably worse, it's probably fine. If it does, let me know- any sort of spark damage does have the potential to spiral catastrophically, though that's unlikely in this case. I would have liked a better exam, but, Primus, don't think we could do any good with... oof. Anyway- how close are they letting you get? You might be able to track at least the stability of their spark from up close, if you can touch their chassis:. _ Patches prompted gently, now gathering up all the nasty bits into a box.  _.:Oh, lovely, a lot of this tube is metal. If they calm enough, see if they'll let you shine a light down their throat and check on the damage, in case any of it is infected. Mouth and throat insides heal fast, but... still best to check. And the dentae, those front ones- see if the broken edges look sharp and fresh or if they've worn down and aged a bit. We can probably repair those later, but it's a little trickier if they're older chips. Another thing- look them over, see if you can figure out what their alt is. I didn't see any terribly distinctive kibble. It's not too important right now, but might factor in later, so... what do you think?:. _

Arclight's optics brightened a fraction as Sticks relaxed, and he didn't flinch from the touches. Sticks was just so little, such a sweet thing... this wasn't a problem. This wasn't intimidating. Especially since it felt  _ good _ , Primus. Arclight trilled the tiniest, sweetest noise, but didn't speak, just... held Sticks. A pause at the touches to his neck, contemplating, then he nodded once and leaned into the retreating servos. Yes, please. It ached. He didn't want it to scar. 

The muzzle and harness had been rubbing his face, helm, and neck raw underneath them, and the soft areas were concerningly warm. Nothing looked infected, at least, and Arclight practically  _ melted _ into the first touches near his face. Servos shaking, he stroked his fingertips softly against Sticks' frame, then slowly brought them up- starting to rub and massage at the back of Sticks' neck. This was. This was a good thing to do. It made people relax. Rub them nice and softly, massage the tension away, good for distracting someone from the pain of whatever had just happened involving heavy things. Sometimes that was all someone needed- a moment to relax, vent deeply, and let the pain of impact fade so they could figure out what had happened and what was wrong. Arclight had always appreciated that. This... this was good. So, so good.

Once his face and neck were coated in the salve and not hurting any more, Arclight shifted around for a moment, twisting to the side, and shifted his arm over Sticks' frame to show them his back. There were two long, thin shapes on his back that looked a bit like some sort of doors, small, neat padlocks fastened into place along the edges, with gouge marks up and down them from where he'd been scraping his back against anything he could find that looked like it might be enough to either get the locks off or just... straight-up rip the doors off. They didn't really... feel like his, at the moment. The rotors inside felt almost  _ dead _ , they hadn't been part of his usable frame for a long time, and he couldn't even feel the doors. If it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't move around and see them, they could almost have been someone else's. But they were there, they were on him, and he wanted them off. Please? 

He wasn't sure his voice would work right now, but... clearly those weren't locks he'd put on himself. He couldn't even reach them. Maybe Sticks could open them? Probably had... saws. Medics had a lot of saws and cutting-things, and Arclight shuddered once at the thought, but stayed still. Cooperative. Aside from reaching for the energon again.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

"Very  _ traditionally _ attractive," Salvo rejoined, "Don't know why people fall so hard for seekers, you think it's just cause they can go fast and really high?" he chuckled, "Or maybe it's the triangles, everyone likes an angular gentlemech. Where's the appreciation for the big bots, eh? Wide shoulders, wide arms wide everything  _ yes please. _ " 

Salvo didn't really have a "type." He knew what looked aesthetically good to him, but that wasn't stratified by frametype, nor really any consistent factors save for a kind of cohesion, and the confidence with which the bot in question carried themself. He knew he was playing out of his league at this point but pushed forward, "Or is it that seekers just have some kinda mega sex thing I don't know about." He looked over to Focus, a sort of mischievously serene smile on his face, "tell me Focus, are you a bottom?" It was a term he'd heard Burner throw around quite a lot, in reference to herself. She seemed to be getting quite a lot of interface so it probably meant something good, or sexy, right?

.

Sticks tensed a bit as Arclight lay a servo on their neck but hastily forced down any subsequent reactions.  _ Trust. _ Trust was key.  _.:They've let me into their lap, actually. Let me touch their face too. I've put some ointment on the scratch marks and the scars, and the rub marks around their neck too, so hopefully they'll heal alright. They seem calm... as calm as they could be, I think. Responding well to some gentle cuddling -not too much, practical mostly. Fuck, Patches what are we going to do about their spark? What kind of monster does that. I-huh?:. _

Sticks kept a servo on Arclight's arm as a point of contact as he motioned them to their back. They stared at the padlocks with a disgusted look on their face, " _ fuck. _ " They picked one up, feeling its weight in their palm. They tugged it a bit, ineffectual. A deep sigh and they did a mental inventory of what they had in subspace. Nothing that'd take care of it easily save for... They took out a small blowtorch and shook their helm.  _.:Ugh, okay. As for kibble, it seems there's a reason. Doors. On his back. Locked with padlocks of all things. Fuck. He's motioning that he wants them off and I figure I'll follow his lead. Might need a set of cutters but we'll see:. _

Keeping a servo on Arclight at all times, Sticks walked around to his front and showed him the blowtorch, "I can get them off but this is all I have at the moment to do so, will this be okay? It's fire, essentially, makes some loud noise and you'll feel some heat. Otherwise I'll need someone to bring me some cutters."

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

Focus glared at Reaver for a moment more, then huffed and smirked, settling back into the chair. "Hm. No.  _ You _ might be, but... no. I like to be in charge, thank you. I like to be  _ adored _ . And if you've never been with a Seeker... you're missing out. We take a  _ very _ long time to get tired. Much longer than grounders- no  _ stamina _ . Do you want me to show you?" he purred, not entirely serious- that seemed to be what they were doing here, prodding and nudging at each other. 

"Not in my chair, please," Reaver muttered, focusing intently on what he was doing, largely leaving the two to bother each other. "Focus does this sort of thing. Don't mind him," he told Red, watching their audials lift and swivel. "He really is a pretty one. Fairly slender build, a lot less angular than some I've seen, soft white with nice gold detailing. Very expressive wings. Four optics, also." 

"Sounds pretty," Red decided, lifting their helm slightly to listen better, not entirely sure what to make of this whole thing. Did Salvo even know what people usually used that word to  _ mean _ ? 

\-----

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

_.:Yeah, that's... probably a control measure, poor dear. Take the locks off. This is... this is a whole thing. The leash and harness, the cuffs, the hobbles... whoever had him was doing their best to make him entirely compliant. At least it doesn't seem to have worked! He's still got some level of spirit. But... I don't have a reason for you, other than 'evil'. Some people are just... absolutely terrible. I suppose if you're an utter sadist, there... must be enough enjoyment in doing this to someone to make it worth the risk. And, without any sort of police or law enforcement, there's not much to stop someone. Except people like Blackspark, he's- he's killed people who do that sort of thing. Has a trophy room. That's the best consolation I can offer you, that there are those who do their best to stop people like that from doing things like this. Permanently:. _

Arclight shifted to lean over the bench slightly, arms braced on it, showing their back. Yes. That was a small blowtorch, precise- more than enough to cut the arches of the locks. And. Yes. Okay. Best to do while their back was still... not theirs. Okay. 

The torch was hot, but the heat felt detached from them. Far away. Nothing to worry about. Besides that, it only took an instant on each little, near-decorative-looking lock to cut through it and slide it out of the holes it was threaded through. Such little things- and he'd even managed to get one or two off! Enough effort, if he snagged one, would tear it out.

The locks hit the ground one after the other, and, eventually, the compartments could open. Arclight perked up slightly and slid them open, then flinched,  _ hard _ , when it  _ clicked _ . Shuddering, he hunched into himself and shook for a moment, then shifted and arched his back. The bases of the rotors extended, and the delicate rotors fanned, out to the sides so they couldn't hit each other, then relaxed and settled back in. There were two narrow, rectangular compartments in his back, the rotors set neatly inside, the interior walls padded to protect them against any kind of impact from outside and keep them from getting scraped up if the walls shifted. Mercifully, fuck,  _ mercifully _ , his captor had let him  _ keep _ his rotors. Promised to let him use them again if he behaved. He hadn't behaved, so the locks stayed. Optics closing, he settled limp against the bench for support, flaring the rotors again, and just... let them move a bit. Gradually, slowly, gently, trying to work the feeling back into them, to remind his processor and himself that this set was there. When he spoke again, it was without looking up at all- soft and gentle. "Thank you", then, softer, "I have welders. Can I have them back? Is that... can..." 

Might be too much to ask. He could cause some serious damage with those, if he tried.

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

"Are you flirting with me?" Salvo gave Focus a charismatic smirk then looked back to Red's shoulder. He'd been pushing the brush back and forth in the same place for about a minute now and quickly went to smooth it out, "Hmm, you know what? Sure. I accept. I'm always looking to broaden my horizons. What to do for a first date... I mean we can always get on the treadmills and run until one of us drops but I... don't think you'd win that one." He was fairly confident about what he said, too, a light frame combined with the extra fuel tank he supposedly had meant he could hold out better than most, "Don't suppose you've ever been with a gun before. We really know how to shoot our loads," he couldn't hold in a snort, "really  _ explosive _ you know?"

.

Sticks quickly subspaced the blowtorch and stepped back to let the mech stretch their wings. They could feel a small smile pulling at their face, it was almost beautiful to see. They gathered up the padlocks from the floor an excitedly commed Patches,  _.:Wings, Patches! And they're intact! They have rotors, like Spade's. Quadcopter alt likely. Is there a room big enough on the ship for him to fly in if he wants to?:. _ They walked around to Arclight's front and put a gentle servo on their arm, holding the collection of padlocks close to their chassis, they spoke softly but with a hint of hope, "Welders too, huh! My main concern is that you would use them to hurt yourself. But I-" They sighed as their tone turned apologetic, "I don't know enough to make a decision quite yet- I'm... a field medic. And a self-taught one at that. I suspect you may need to get a psych evaluation before we're allowed to give you back your welders but I'll ask Patches to make sure."

Sticks deposited the padlocks under the bench, within Arclight's reach in case he wanted to do something with them, but out of sight in case he didn't.  _.:He says he has welders and wants them back. Not very insistently, though. Should I see what I can do or do we wait until Notepad has seen him? He's calm now but I don't know enough to say for sure he's not a danger to himself:. _ That done, they retrieved a small flashlight from subspace, "In the meantime, I'd like to check out your mouth. See what that tube did to your dentae and throat." 

Sticks quickly ducked under his arm, again keeping a servo on him at all times. They brought a few fingers to gently stroke at the base of his audial. He'd seemed to like this somewhat before.

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

Forceps made a bit of a Face at that mental image, wings twitching up and in. "In this context, 'explosive' is... not a positive trait. I am not a masochist or a weapons fetishist, thank you," he commented, and cocked his helm slightly to look Salvo up and down. "Hm. I can mix drinks, if you'd like something a bit less monotonous than trying to outrun each other for no particular reason other than to boast at each other.  _ Or _ there's a gun range on the ship, if you'd like to be shot off in a non-sexual context. That seems like it might be invigorating. I can... probably lift you," he mused, leaning forwards slightly to size Salvo up. Literally. 

Red listened for a moment or two, then leaned slightly towards Reaver, voice low and vaguely amused. "Should be fun to watch," they noted, contemplating the situation in general. Salvo, who had... no actual interest in interface, evidently, and Focus. Focus was... interesting. They'd heard him a bit here and there. A bit... not quite loud, but very confident, and flirty. Whether or not he actually followed through on the flirting, Red wasn't sure. Might be interesting to see how that played out.

\-----

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

_.:Oh, that's wonderful! Where were they hiding the rotors? I haven't met anything like a quadcopter in, Primus, in decades. They aren't quite as adaptable in flight as standard copters, but they are incredibly precise. Making them one of the only alts I'd say should be flying indoors. The cargo hold should have enough room for them to at least stretch things out a bit, and we can stop off on the next safe spot we find to let everyone run and fly around. The welders... no, I'm- I'm really not at all inclined to make those available. Mostly because I'm worried they'd try to weld their chassis plating shut. Understandable impulse! But potentially risky. We're also going to keep them away from... anything that could potentially be dangerous. Gently, of course! But... we do need to keep them safe. Tell him that he can absolutely have them back, but we need to be sure he's stable first. Hopefully he'll agree that he's, ah. Not what we can call stable right now:. _

Arclight flicked their optics slightly to the side, then sighed in quiet defeat and nodded once, understanding. Yes, okay. That... that was fair, the concern. 

_ Would _ he hurt himself? Probably not on purpose, but... that was...

This. Arclight liked this. That wasn't the confident, "I know what's best for you" attitude that they'd learned to  _ hate _ , it was... something else. Softer. Hard to be angry with. He was too tired to be angry, anyway.

Oh. Arclight eyed the flashlight, optics tired, and considered it for a long moment before speaking. "Don't touch," he whispered, a warning more than anything- he'd probably bite down out of reflex. But, yes, that. That was probably a good thing to check out. And Sticks... wasn't holding anything else that could be an issue. No gag or anything like it. So, leaning his helm into the touches to his audials, optics hardening slightly and locking on Sticks' face, he opened his mouth and pulled his lips back to bare his dentae.

Like Patches had noted before, his front dentae were badly chipped, to the point of several entirely missing their cutting edges. The roof of his mouth was a bit worn, but looked intact. The back of his throat was another story- gouged up and visibly scarred, raw and nearly bleeding in other spots. It looked like a bit of a mess. It wasn't outright bleeding, nor was it perforated, but it was rougher than it ought to be. At least their glossa wasn't damaged. 

He would have fought the tube, if he could have. He really would have fought. But- but it had- it had been- 

He should probably have learned, at some point, at some eventual point, not to fight so hard. He knew what was going to happen every time his captor came for him. He wasn't strong enough to win any sort of fight. But he'd tried, dear Primus he'd tried, and he'd bitten his captor's face  _ hard _ at one point. It hadn't stopped anything, though, and it meant that next time, while his spark, frame, and mind were still reeling, he'd gotten a tube forced down his throat. Accompanied by a sickly-sweet speech about how it was for his  _ own good _ , how it was to keep him from starving himself, to be sure he didn't hurt anyone else. Not that it helped any. At least the end of the tube had been silicone- he was fairly sure he would have managed to puncture his throat in several places if not. But dear  _ Primus _ , the pry bars hadn't been enough, the chains hadn't been enough, the  _ leash _ hadn't been enough, he had to be muzzled and gagged, had to be-

Another forcible shudder ran down his spine, and he had just enough coherence to move back from Sticks as he clamped his jaws together- hard. Glossa drawn back, lips curled, hard enough that he would have done some major damage to anything he'd bitten down on. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ -

Arclight grabbed the energon cube, quickly poured the last of it into the cup, then brought the cube to his face and bit savagely into it. There was only so long the forcefield could put up with that sort of abuse, but the bit of tearing and wrenching that Arclight got out of it before it vanished was so, so innately  _ satisfying _ , and their whole frame relaxed once again. Oh. Primus. Okay.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

"It-it's not?" Salvo said, seemingly genuinely surprised, "Well I guess every line can't be a hit." He shrugged and dipped the brush back in the paint, finally getting a feel for the right amount to have. He hummed a little bit, "Jokes aside, that... genuinely sounds like fun. But we'd have to do it outside somewhere, exploding shells. Possible I could blow a hole in the ship and let me tell you," he looked at Focus and sternly waved the brush, "I don't want that. Also you shoot me too many times and I'll go right back to root and kick you straight into the next millennia." 

The joke in Salvo's tone retreated slightly -not all the way, that'd be an admission of weakness. But the threat was the best he could do. There wasn't anything he could do to stop someone from draining him completely once in alt mode. Another sick joke from his frame. But nobody needed to know that. He shook his helm, "Anyway, I'm not too heavy but, let's put it this way. I'm best experienced laying down."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

Sticks took a sharp in-vent as they saw the back of Arclight's throat.  _ Primus _ it looked painful. And then he drew back and  _ bit _ and they jumped and something flipped inside them. The stress built up from the whole affair they'd so-carefully pushed down to function began to bubble up and mutate, turning into a sickening kind of anger. Their field disappeared, as it did in most displays of negative emotions, a response carefully trained into any service-class mechs. Their jaw clenched and their arms began to tremble. Something within them knew the dangers of losing their cool in front of a patient. They could undo  _ everything _ they'd done so far. They wanted to simmer it off but knew they better address Arclight before they did so to make clear it was not their fault. They took a deep breath "I'm... angry," their voice was just above a whisper, with an entirely different timbre than before, restrained to the point of being squeaky, "Not at you. Of course not at you... I'm just going to sit down. I need a moment."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/20/2019**

Sticks backed up, optics firmly on the floor, flinching when their back hit the edge of the bench. Their servo jerked back and gripped as hard as they could for a microklik but eased up. They pushed themself up onto the bench and buried their face in their servos. Their whole frame was shaking now, rattling slightly against the bench. As they stayed silent, their engines kicked in, a low, ominous rumble that traveled farther than they would have liked. They wanted to yell, they wanted to rip something- to punch something, but  _ nothing _ about that was acceptable. Their frame's one consolation was the slight vibration from their engine. They hadn't been this angry in quite a long time. Normally they were just scared, or they'd cry their way through it. Their face was dry. Their entire upper half felt like a taut wire. Their chassis ached. It took  _ everything _ they had to keep it together.

It took a few minutes for Sticks's rage to cool even a bit. Like a fire it needed to be stoked, it needed attention. They refused to give it anything. Eventually they spoke again, still not meeting optics with Arclight, "You know, I didn't think I'd see anything like this -not even in my wildest nightmares. Your case is,  _ unequivocally, _ the worst I've ever seen," their voice began to waver, at last, "Every second I wanted so hard to believe it couldn't get any worse, but it  _ did- fuck. _ " They tensed all over again as another wave of outrage washed over them, their engine growled a little louder. They shut up and rocked in their seat until they could control themself again, "If the absolute monster who did this to you is still alive- or  _ anyone _ who was complicit in... this I'll-" a quick, deep breath, "I'll pass on the information to the people who could do something insisting their end be slow and painful- they won't get away with this you have my word." 

The growl from Sticks's engines died down, leaving them feeling like someone had carved out their fuel tank. They shuddered one last time and scrubbed at their face, taking a few deep breaths. They at last looked back up into Arclight's face, they looked tired, sad, "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm going to do my best for you, I mean it." They cleared their throat, "Anyway, Patches said no to unlocking your welders until you're a little more stable- and I'm sorry about that too. Is there anything else about your frame you want me to fix now? Otherwise we can see what we can do about destroying those fucking padlocks. And if not that we could get you some more energon or a berth."

##  **Betta132** **01/20/2019**

"No, I do not want anything literally explosive in my  _ valve _ , thank you, what kind of masochists have you been fragging?" Focus asked, half-kidding, one brow raised slightly. Hm. Awkward. Was it possible...? Wings flicking up in interest, he leaned in just a bit closer, watching Salvo quite intently. "How old are you, then, pretty? What kind of experience am I looking at?" 

People's experience levels usually more or less scaled with age. MTOs were a wild card, though, and... Salvo _ was _ an MTO, wasn't he? He could swear he'd seen a significant number of bots who looked an awful lot like this. Nobody had THAT many siblings. And... one good way to judge experience, at least to some extent. 

Slinking out of the chair, Focus dropped to all fours and slunk forward, coming right up close to Salvo, and placed a servo on his chassis to ease him back. "...and if you insist, you could lay down right now and prove it." 

Reaver sputtered in something between surprise, concern, and flusterment, optics wide, not entirely sure what to do here or how far Focus intended to go. "-I'm- I'm sorry, could you-  _ Focus _ , what-  _ excuse me _ -" 

"Oh, hush, you like the view." 

.(edited)

Arclight's plating tightened in a cautious manner and they eyed Sticks up, not sure what to make of all that. Could they help? They felt a bit inclined to do so, Sticks was clearly  _ distraught _ , but they were wary of people who were this upset. Not because they genuinely thought Sticks would hurt them- old instinct, mostly, from working around very large mechs. If someone big enough was upset enough, shoving at anyone who got too close could seriously hurt them. Had to listen, to wait, to come in only if it was wanted. 

And then Sticks started talking, and Arclight could, at least, give them some kind of good news. And... something else. They wanted to get up close, touch Sticks, try to soothe that exhaustion away. Anger on their behalf felt  _ good _ , it felt  _ right _ , it felt like  _ validation _ , because- yes! Everything had been absolutely fucked! And it had been hidden so well for so long that nobody saw it! But this- Sticks saw! Arclight's field flared out, a bit weak, a bit shaky, but passionate, trembling  _ thanks _ and  _ trust _ and  _ validation _ , as Arclight came in close enough to. Well. 

His captor had wanted  _ submission _ out of him. Not that he gave it. Not if it was being demanded. But, for those soft little servos, the concern, the  _ rage _ , all on his behalf-

Arclight moved right up close to the bench, kneeling in front of it, and tucked his helm and shoulders into Sticks' lap. An instant of concern, then he slid both arms up and around the smaller bot's frame and relaxed like that, finding it... actually rather comfortable. 

"He's dead," they declared after a moment, a bit muffled, field quivering something quiet and scared and then  _ vindictive _ . "Doesn't matter if someone's strong. Get a rope, or a chain, or a  _ leash _ around their throat, pull, make sure they can't reach you... they die. I won. He's gone," then, in the next breath, "want my other rotors. Legs. Want to do it. Can" a brief pause, servos squeezing lightly at Sticks' back plating and relaxing, "can wait for my own torches."

January 21, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Salvo's visor brightened in something akin to amused surprise as Focus left the chair and brightened even more as he crawled over to him. He was thankful of his visor because underneath his optics were wide as the moon. He'd be damned if he let the other mech win. "Watch your wings around, Red, slickvalve," Salvo drawled, his voice was lowered in pitch but warm, smooth, like a wind-shaped stone in the sun. If he was going to do this, he'd do it to the best of his ability. He'd absentmindedly watched enough porn to get the gist of how he'd act. 

It was Salvo's move now. He twirled the paintbrush in between his fingers, hooked a heel around Focus's upper thigh, and pulled him forward, so their chassis were almost touching,"Bold words to someone who's got wet paint within splatting distance," his voice lowered even more, "You're deluding yourself if you think I'd transform right now just to show you. I've got a hair trigger, just the slightest push and I'll shoot. As for experience..." He leaned forward, optics locked on Focus's, mouth open as if to go in for a kiss, silently tuning his second vocalizer as low as it would go (comically so), and pushed past, brushing his cheek against the other's until he was close enough to speak into his audial. He crooned, "absolutely fucking-" switching to his second vocalizer, "-none."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Sticks's optics opened wide with a soft, surprised gasp as Arclight did as Forceps had done so long ago. A pang of something bittersweet and  _ powerful _ shot through their chassis. They could feel their optics waver, their cheeks flush. This was something profoundly special. They slowly let their servos down but paused. Arclight's neck was far too cut up for this to be done the way they'd learned. They rested their servos against the back of his helm instead, slowly spreading their fingers out to rub underneath his audials. Hopefully that'd be enough to return the sentiment.

They leaned over, curling their torso around Arclight's helm and beamed something at once congratulatory, victorious, relieved and  _ proud _ through their field, "You won. You were so brave to make it through that nightmare. You're here now and you're safe and you  _ fucking _ won." Their voice was a breathless, excited kind of exhausted, "You will get your torches back, it's only a matter of time." Their optics teared up again as they curled in closer, bringing their arms around to hug Arclight's shoulders, "You have time now, so much you won't even know what to do with all of it." 

Sticks held the hug for a few moments and let go to gently pat Arclight on the helm, "If that's what we can do for you right now let's get you to a room. You're probably exhausted."(edited)

Sighing with something close to relief, the commed Patches finally,  _.:Likely a Decepticon or spent a lot of time around Decepticons. He's got a secondary set of rotors in his legs that he says he wants to free himself, but otherwise I believe we've done all we can for him right now. His abuser is confirmed dead, used the leash. His throat is cut up to slag but do not put your servo near his mouth. I think we get him on a high-mineral energon diet if he can stomach it and check in regularly to make sure it's not infected. Front dentae are chipped but mouth is otherwise fairly fine. We're likely coming out of the shower soon, so hopefully a room is ready:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

Now, Red couldn't see any of this, but they'd about got the gist of it. Not just from what they could hear of... whatever the fuck Focus was doing, either. Reaver's vents had kicked on a bit, and he'd completely stopped everything he was doing, aside from watching and making tiny sputtering noises under his breath. Sounded a bit like the audible equivalent of a computer program glitching. But- something to address! "Um. Salvo. None, ah- none of that is about your guns. One- one of you is speaking almost entirely in, uh, in innuendo." 

Focus' optics glinted, his wings flicked up, and he arched gracefully, planting one servo on Salvo's chassis and one on the forearm attached to the servo holding the brush. Did he actually intend to fuck Salvo on someone else's floor? No, absolutely not. Partly because of the paint cans still nearby.  _ But _ he was going to, hmm, see how far this got before someone complained. He'd always been fond of having someone follow him back to his room like an incredibly horny puppy. Wings up and trembling gently, he shifted to straddle Salvo's hips, optics glinting, armor fluffing temptingly to show off all the sensitive areas underneath to stroke- 

And was completely caught off guard by, oh, Pit, this whole entire thing. The wing-trembling hitched, and he paused, perfectly still, optics widening a fraction in surprise. Sitting back slightly, he looked Salvo up and down again, then huffed and disguised his surprise as much as possible. "Well. All right then. Is that intentional, a matter of circumstance, or... did someone build you without interface equipment? Because I can work around that last one. The first depends on you, and the second... the second, I will happily fix. Assuming you want me to. So... that in mind, how much of me do you want?" he purred, slipping back into his seductive tone, albeit while eyeing Salvo's general throat area. "...how did you do that?" 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

_.:Noted. Let him get the other rotors out, absolutely. Lend him whatever tool would be useful for that- perhaps a little circular saw? As for his throat... normally I'd want to scope it, but I really don't think he's going to want anything other than liquids down his throat for a very long time. And I'm not about to put my servos near someone's mouth after they've made a notable effort to bite me! And, oh, Primus forgive our species, I'm so, so glad that mech is dead. The rooms... we have a side room open, but remember, he panicked even worse earlier when I tried to get him into one. Might be best to let him walk in on his own as much as possible, stay back, ask if it's okay to come in. I'm guessing he didn't want to be trapped in a small space with a potential threat, poor dear. Anyway- I'll get some spare blankets and energon set up in there for him. Does he seem to be in much pain?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

Arclight sang a soft, shaky, thrilled note under his breath, giving Sticks the gentlest squeeze, and let his servos travel up Sticks' back a bit to find good places to rub. Oh, Primus, he didn't want to move. And this,  _ this _ was real, no one could fake something this  _ thoroughly _ , the field was always flawed  _ somewhere, _ but Sticks' was  _ perfect _ . A firm squeeze, just to confirm that the plating under their fingertips was  _ real _ , and they attempted to slink just a bit further into Sticks' lap. Little bot was just so warm, their servos were so gentle, and the  _ emotions _ \- the true, genuine emotions, nothing near faked or hidden, just raw and  _ real _ . "Thank you," they whispered, then, servos clenching slightly again, "-the round one. Hurt?" 

Hopefully they hadn't injured him. They didn't regret fighting, not given the information they'd had at the time, but it would... it would be a shame to have caused him injury for what turned out to be an attempt to help. That didn't seem fair, didn't seem- didn't seem  _ right _ , literally the first person in- in who knew how long to try to  _ help _ him, to- 

Arclight curled onto his side a bit, helm still in Sticks' lap, uncaring of how vulnerable this made him, and started to sob. Hard. Their optics sparked intermittently, not quite as much as one would expect to see out of sadness, but  _ enough _ , and delicate flames curled up his face as his tears caught fire. A quick little jerk of surprise at the heat and light, then he shut his optics tight and went limp again, finding no point in resisting. He'd run out of fight. There was nothing here  _ to _ fight, not really. Just... just emotions, which he  _ knew _ would explode outward eventually if bottled up, and a bot who he would gladly have shielded with his everything if the situation required it.

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Salvo wanted to keep up his cool act, he really did, but the pause sent him over the edge. He collapsed back and  _ howled _ in laughter. For the first few guffaws his second vocalizer was still in action, making a freaky dual tone that made him laugh even harder. He jolted suddenly and with a breathless "fuck" curled as far around as he could to briefly lift his visor up slightly and wipe away the tears that'd sparked right in his optic, still laughing the whole time. When at last he caught his breath again, he looked back up at Focus, "Sorry mech, all play and no fun. Not interested. Sticks said once I may be Asexual but I'm still trying to figure out what that means."

Salvo settled in a bit under Focus's arms and put a servo behind his helm to rest on the floor, "I can play the innuendo game too, find it fun actually. Anyway my offer was real. I haven't had someone shoot me in a while, none of my friends wanna do it, said they'd feel weird. It's good to be fired off  _ if _ the person who's got me has good aim. So-" he retrieved his servo from behind his helm and chucked Focus under the chin, "How's your aim, seeker?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Sticks let out a long ex-vent and watched the bot sobbing into their lap. They busied themself with slowly petting his helm. This wasn't something to be rushed, nor cut off abruptly.  _.:They seem like the kind of person to hide their pain. Whether that's an innate trait or because of their situation, I don't know. They also seem to be out of it enough it's difficult to tell. I just hope they aren't hiding something big where I can't see:. _ They quickly pulled a small square of flame-dampening cloth from subspace and held it in their servo for a bit as they saw Arclight's tears catch. They waited silently, letting him have a moment to himself before leaning over and gently patting the flame out. It was likely a fool's errand, the mech's tears were inevitably going to catch again. But they'd be there to stop the flame. If at least to stop one more thing from making the bot look even more disheveled. 

"Patches is a tough mech, I'd be real surprised if you did any lasting damage," they spoke quietly, "If you want you can ask him yourself, he'd be thrilled to see you calmer. Scalpel, too. She was  _ furious _ on your behalf. She may look scary but she'll protect you with everything she's got if the need arises." they curled in a bit and kept petting his helm, "And despite the rough entrance, we're all glad you're here."

Sticks sighed again and commed Patches  _.:He asked after you. Wanted to know if you were hurt. I told him you're tough. How are you feeling? I know it must be tough getting these updates remotely:. _ It was worth comming Scalpel, too, they thought,  _.:You doing alright, Scalpel?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

What the  _ fuck _ . Focus sat back slightly, unable to entirely hide an expression of bafflement, one that started to leak into something a bit more like outrage. Focus didn't like being  _ lied _ to, and this- this felt like being lied to. Rude, that. "You're going to piss someone off if you keep doing that," he muttered, backing up a fraction, and glanced away with a dismissive huff. "Did no one ever tell you it's rude to lead people on? Or did you not realize I wasn't joking?" he complained, looking like he'd figured out his emotions and found most of them to be dissatisfaction. Yes, fine, people had the right to change their mind at any point, he wasn't going to argue that, but there was a difference between "oh, never mind" and "yeah I wasn't ever interested", and the latter was just rude. 

But that was something like a challenge, and Focus' optics glinted slightly as he smirked. "Well. That's going to depend on what you  _ are _ , but I should be able to figure you out easily enough." 

"Oh, thank Primus, don't have to figure out what to do about the  _ porn vid _ happening on my floor," Reaver muttered, to Red's great amusement, and tilted them slightly to the side to get at some of the intricacies of their shoulder plating. "My Order was too embarrassed to discuss any form of kink, we didn't get any sort of advice on what to do if two people start seducing each other in front of you."

.

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

_.:Oh, the poor dear. I'm not hurt, no, aside from a few dents. But... oof. This is a bad one. I might go and see if Blackspark's little one is awake in a little while- I need something sweet. Or I should see if anyone would like some lessons in candy-making. Mostly I want someone to cuddle. Primus. Are you doing okay? Do you want me to try and round Forceps up, or would you rather... heh, I suppose the easiest solution here would be for us to cuddle each other, no one else involved. Would you prefer that, or Forceps? I don't think we could convince Forceps to snuggle us both at once. Though- we could try!:. _

_.:Better than that poor bot. Fuck. Gonna go break slag in the cargo hold, we got a bunch of stuff specifically for being pissed at. You wanna come? I don't do the snuggling-and-crying thing Patches does, I break things. I got extra stuff, you can play along, but you gotta stay outta my way:. _

Arclight squeaked a bit at the cloth, but didn't fight it, though he did almost-bristle. Mostly at himself. Primus, he was pitiful- sobbing in a stranger's lap, offering himself up for Sticks to... he didn't know what. Was there something Sticks might want to... do? Or...? 

No. There wasn't really anything, was there? A blink or two, and Arclight sniffled lightly, squeezing at Sticks' plating in a couple of small motions. "All," he noted quietly, vaguely wondering just how many people that was, and gave Sticks a firm hug. Okay. He wanted to go somewhere else now. 

Sitting up a bit, he sobbed quietly and scrubbed at his face with both servos, trying to banish most of the tears. It didn't quite work- more came, immediately. Okay. Okay, that- yeah, he could- he could mostly see, this would work okay. Swaying a bit on his pedes, he sniffled quietly, vents hiccuping, then aimed the best stern look he could in Sticks' direction. "I-I won't- I can still- still fight. No one gets to- to  _ anything _ , to  _ touch _ me, if- if I don't want. I'll. I had energon. I can- I-I won't  _ let _ them."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

"I'm just a rude kinda mech and besides, you were coming on  _ real strong, _ -I still can't believe none of that was acting" Salvo said, pushing himself back up, "Hey at least I wasn't rude enough to splatter you with paint." He twisted his other arm out of Focus's grasp and leaned over past him to dip it once again in the paint pot, close enough once again that their chassis were almost touching. He leaned back slightly, braced one servo against the floor and resumed painting Red's shoulder plates. 

"I don't mind if you want to stay in my lap but I'll warn you I've got a bad track record with paint- unintentional." Salvo said, matter of factly, "The funny thing about me, my alt, is that even I don't really know what kinda gun I am. Don't shoot too fast but I was made for damage. Explosive shells means shrapnel out the aft, too. They ask for my help when they want people gone and I mean  _ gone. _ So how well you can handle me depends on how much recoil you can deal with." 

Salvo shrugged then paused and donned a mischievous grin. He turned to look at Focus, then very subtly inclined his helm toward Reaver and spoke just a little louder than usual, "So Focus, what does bottom mean anyway?" 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Sticks stood up on the bench and leaned to turn the shower off at last, then padded over to Arclight and carefully pressed the makeshift handkerchief into their servo, "This... It's used, unfortunately, I can make a replacement if you'd like, out of fresh fabric but for now, hold onto it if you want. Keep it for as long as you like. Should mitigate scorch marks." They looked up into Arclight's face, "You shouldn't have to fight, nobody here's going to do anything to you without your permission. I'll make sure everyone knows you need your space and they'll respect that. If they don't, Scalpel will probably throw them out the airlock, or if she doesn't, I will. You're safe here, I mean it."

Sticks turned to the bench to retrieve the last of the towels and the cup of energon. They spent a moment surveying the mess. There was still the padlocks on the floor and the mound of wet towels in the corner to pick up. Priority one was Arclight, then possibly cleaning up. Patches and Scalpel were dealing with enough. They trotted back over to the door, undid the latch, and pushed it open. Looking back at Arclight, they held out their servo, "Follow me, your room is this way."

Sticks walked slowly, making sure to keep close to Arclight, and looked back every so often to make sure he was still doing alright. The walk there made an excellent opportunity to update people. Scalpel first,  _.:I'm glad you're holding up okay. I appreciate the offer but I've got my own plans:. _ And then Patches, the barest hint of a smile on their face  _.:I'm... doing better than I thought I'd be, I think it's cause I'm getting a little bit of closure here. Could also be emotional fatigue. We'll see. I think... I just need to spend some time with Forceps. Please take care of yourself Patches:. _

In front of the door, now, Sticks opened it and stood outside, following Patches's recommendation. They held out the towels and  cup of energon to Arclight, "There should be some extra energon and blankets in there and a lock on the inside-that you control, we wouldn't lock you in of course." They sent out their comm link ping, "If you need anything, if something happens, if something starts to hurt, comm me. I'll come."

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

"I am straightforward. If someone wants my attention, or fakes wanting it, and I don't find them objectionable, I give it," Focus muttered, then huffed and moved out of the way of the paint. He looked gorgeous- no sense risking that. And then Salvo asked something else, and Focus' wings flicked up in amusement, the pretty Seeker offering Salvo a slightly odd smile. There was almost, almost, something between bemusement and mischief in it. "The way you act, I'd think you'd seen enough to figure it out. It's usually fairly literal, someone who prefers to be topped, with a side dose of appreciation for a more dominant partner." 

Which, at times, described Focus fairly well. Depended on the person he was with. Not that he'd admit it. Someone who wanted to fuck him had to  _ earn _ it, he wouldn't just roll over and beg. He absolutely had  _ not _ been recently reduced to a moaning puddle by a springy little bot who'd wound up fucking him into the floor. Nope. 

Red huffed and offered a tiny smile, still entertained, helm cocking to face Salvo. "That  _ was _ a lot. I kinda thought you were gonna experiment. You made Reaver flustered- 's kinda cute. Also, if painting me is a race, you're... really losing." 

.

Arclight squeaked something muffled-glad and bundled the cloth up to their face, muffling the tears, and followed Sticks with relatively steady steps. Not the most stable, not the most even, but he was walking and it was a fairly straight line. A moment's pause, staring at the berth he'd been bound to, then he kept going. He'd panicked before at the prospect of being trapped in a small room with a strong mech, but this... heh. This wasn't that. This was  _ Sticks _ , and Sticks was small and easy to lift. Safe. Not strong enough to pin Arclight.

Still, they hesitated at the door, vents hitching, giving a quiet, choked noise as their tank roiled. A heartbeat, then two, then he ex-vented long and slow and stepped inside. Okay. This was... okay. Just a room. With a berth. And with Sticks still there. Another moment, and he tugged Sticks gently through the door, reaching for the controls. A much longer moment of hesitation, then, starting to shake harder, he bit his lip and shut the door with a sharp inhale. He hadn't been allowed to close doors between himself and his captor, and it... evidently had stuck. Oh, fuck him. But the door was  _ there _ , and Arclight flicked it open and shut a couple more times, then slowly moved over to the berth. Sitting down, they bent their knees and propped their heels against the berth, prodding at another set of doors along the backs of their lower legs. Much thinner, and, this time, without protruding locks- too easy for them to reach. Those, on close inspection, had recessed locks, notches cut into the edge of the door and into its border for the locks to be placed in. Definitely a place for delicate cutters or a small electric saw, not a blowtorch. Reaching down, he rubbed his fingertips along the seam, prodding sharply at the little locks. "I want these. And my-" a pause, tapping at a plating seam on their upper arm, lifting the edge of the plating to show more locks "-my other rotors. I. Don't know how much it would hurt to transform. But I want to. I-I at least. I want my rotors out. Want to stretch them."

_.:Noted. Lemme know if you wanna work out some stuff. I got slag you can break. Just don't punch anythin', you gotta get in the habit of not punchin' things before you punch wi' upgraded servos and pass out from the pain:. Learn to kick stuff instead.. _

_.:I will. I'm going to go play with a baby and hug Blackspark. And Soundwave if he's around. And, oh! We're going to have another baby soon when Soundwave's little one is born! Symbiote babies are different, though- the strong bond gives them more comprehension of the world. On a much nicer note than everything else... do you have much experience with symbiotes? Ever met a baby? The carriers tend to be extremely protective of them while they're young, people are... odd about symbiotes:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

"Aw, I'm not objectionable," Salvo said to himself in a kind of appreciative way, "I-I know I'm losing, I got  _ distracted. _ " He chuckled and focused on Red's shoulder for a little bit. He was determined not to fall too far behind, Red needed a new coat of paint, after all! He sighed, "Maybe it is about time to try experimenting again," he sounded sincere for the first time in a while, but resigned almost, "People love it so much there's gotta be something to it, right? Only thing it got me was a panel fulla sand, which then came with unceasing ridicule. Not that I mind of course, it's funny n all just disappointing."

Salvo huffed, disappointed in himself as well for harshing his own mood. He supposed he enjoyed when he and Red... That was nice, he enjoyed that Red enjoyed... whatever you'd call that. That was a positive he could gather from this. Now that he was actually concentrating on Red, he was making good progress, but direly needed to change the subject, "So Focus, tell me more about this top and bottom thing, what happens if two people are in an antigravity chamber, who's the top when there is no down?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/21/2019**

Sticks took a deep in-vent and very slowly let it out. They'd hoped Arclight's reaction earlier was due to being held, or just the overall stress of the situation and not something that was evidently going to be quite a problem. The mech needed doors, he was going to need privacy and a place he could call his own, after being on a ship with the corpse of his abuser for Primus knows how long. As Arclight pulled them in the door, they worried how it could be used to manipulate him too,  _ fuck. _

They gave a passing thought to Soundwave and his having hacked the medbay doors. They gave a passing thought to changing the code for this door, encrypting the reading mechanisms themselves so he couldn't just waltz in without at least a little bit of effort. But, they figured, what would stop Soundwave would undoubtedly slow the other medics as well, even if they did tell them what they needed to do. They shook their helm, Soundwave himself was agreeable, the fact he had access to private doors was not.

Sticks walked over to one of the room's rolling carts and put the towels down. They turned to Arclight as if to go to him but reached back to grab a towel first then trotted towards him. "Here," they placed the towel on the berth right next to Arclight, "Might be a good idea to dry off all the way before you get comfortable, unless you'd prefer wet sheets. Also, um, don't wipe your face with these or you'll risk catching them on fire. I'd normally add 'unless you want to' but I'm pretty sure the medbay has some serious fire-response systems. And here," they offered his half-full cup of energon, "if you can't think of this as something you need to survive, think of it as something that'll help you fight better. Now let me get a look at those..."

Sticks bent over slightly to examine the locks. To their dismay these wouldn't be solved by anything they had with them. They sighed and looked straight into Arclight's optics, "I don't have what we need to deal with these on me right now. I'll need to go get a small pair of cutters for you to use. You can either come with me or you can stay here, but either way I need you to promise me you won't do anything rash, alright?"

##  **Betta132** **01/21/2019**

"I won't pretend to understand why, but... for some people, it doesn't click. It's rare, but it happens. Now, if you  _ want _ to experiment, I will happily help you with that. I am  _ very _ good," Focus preened, then made a bit of a face. "At the very least, I can promise no sand involved. If you want to try, let me know. If not... that's that," he shrugged, then smirked, wings twitching up slightly in amusement. "Whoever isn't pinned to the nearest available surface. Gravity-less interface is... call it difficult." 

"I am... very nearly tempted to offer myself as an example," Reaver muttered, very quietly, then flicked his wings slightly and thought. "Hm. You know, if you... want to experiment, you could probably find someone on the ship willing to simply, ah, let you touch as much as you'd like. Twitch would certainly be wiling, but might be a bit... overenthusiastic. Bracer? Or Blackspark, he should be recovered from childbirth soon enough if he isn't already. Blackspark has. Ah." an awkward cough "toys." 

.

Arclight sneezed a couple of times as the droplets of water tickled his vents, then huffed and bundled himself up in the offered towel, practically vanishing. The energon, he gladly took, holding it between both servos to sip from. He wanted to drink! He wanted to be alive, to take this offered drink, to be warm, to defy everything he was supposed to do. 

Except things that Sticks requested. Sticks was asking him to, what, not break anything? Okay. Reasonable. And to, oh, okay, not hurt himself. "Won't. Don't... want to hurt. Feel okay- won't do anything. Weird. Want everything back," they requested softly, and, optics dimming, sipped from the cube for a few moments before speaking again. "Don't close the door." 

He wanted to know when Sticks was coming back, mostly. Didn't like closed doors, didn't know if or when someone might come through them. Didn't particularly want to lose track of the one bot whose location they knew. But... he wanted cutters. Wanted his rotors back. Not to fly, not indoors, not while parts of his frame still didn't feel like his, but he wanted to stretch. And, finally, voice lifted just loud enough to be heard, "-the heater? It's cold," they prompted softly, not quite phrased like a request.

January 22, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/22/2019**

"I-hmm," Salvo was blushing now, almost nervous, "I don't..." His finger began to rhythmically tap the brush. Acting was fine, pretending was fine because he knew deep down he wouldn't have to go through with anything. But once it got down to actually imagining himself doing the thing, planning who to interface with, thinking about  _ touching _ that was- that was too much. He hated feeling weird, feeling vulnerable, though, and wasn't about to admit he was uncomfortable after everything he'd already said, "you know what, I'll take your word for it. It's a whole can of bolts, gotta have a conversation with my partner, gotta go up and ask someone without getting my very slappable face slapped. So much work for what's bound to be a very mediocre experience." Real casual, nailed it. Now to divert attention. He looked at Red, hmm no, this was for their enjoyment, Focus he didn't exactly want to prod further. Risk a budding friendship? No way. Reaver it was, "So Reaver," he inclined his helm with a smug look on his face, "you do anything fun with those claws of yours?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/22/2019**

Sticks nodded slightly at Arclight, optics soft, "Alright. Remember if anything goes wrong just comm me. Or you can yell since the door's open. And... you're right, it  _ is _ cold on this ship."

And with that they left the room. They weren't entirely certain the mech wasn't about to do something bad to themself, and knew it'd be their fault if they did, but they also knew that it felt good to be trusted. Perhaps some level of responsibility would help. As they walked to the tools cabinet they took the opportunity to update Patches  _.:I am excited to see Soundwave's kid, maybe less so as it comes out but it's genuinely exciting. A quick, not-as-fortunate note: Arclight seems to have some troubles with doors, started shaking right before he went in. I'd hoped you'd have been wrong about his sensitivity towards small rooms but you were spot on. I'm not sure what to do aside from be careful about entering and consent for that. He might also insist on having the door open, which could mesh poorly with the habits and issues of some other bots. I'll keep you updated if I can find any more specifics here:. _

Sticks could feel the day's stress now- the complaints of their arms as they reached up to pull the cutters off their peg, the dull ache in their chassis that didn't seem to go away, the beginnings of a headache. But they kept going, they knew what this meant, they knew Arclight needed this, they'd also worked through much worse fatigue. Still... the temptation to comm Forceps was overwhelming. They were safety. But could they keep their emotions from springing forward again? Probably not, given that even thinking about comming them was sparking something desperate inside them. They slung the clippers over their shoulder and closed the cabinet. 

With an artful catch, Sticks retrieved the heater from its spot on the berth. It was heavier than they'd hoped. Before long, though they let it down in front of the doorway with a  _ thunk. _ They knocked on the door frame first, sure to make good on their demonstration of consent, "May I come in?" They leaned over to look in the room, trying to spot if Arclight had made good on his promise.

##  **Betta132** **01/22/2019**

"I will mark that down as 'not for you', then," Focus muttered, then snorted in clear amusement at Reaver's face. 

Mostly, flustered. "I'm, um. What- what context, what kind of 'fun' are- are we talking about? Because I'm. I'm not going to, uh. I-I would really prefer not to explicitly discuss my preferences, thank you. If- if you want instructions or explanations, go ask  _ Blackspark _ , he's- he's something." 

No, he was not going to discuss this with someone he wasn't familiar with, thank you. Too much. Just slightly too much. He could find somewhere else to be educated, Reaver decided, and went back to his work on Red. Who was giggling furiously at this point. "Oh, hush." 

.

Arclight, the instant he was left alone, started to snoop. When Sticks got back, he'd climbed up onto the workspace/countertop set against one wall, ignoring the protests of muscle cables no longer used to climbing, and was clinging to a wall cabinet in order to check inside the vents for... anything, really. There didn't seem to be too much of anything, aside from some scratches in the wall. Maybe there were rats here. And, ah- 

A moment's consideration of Sticks, helm cocked slightly, then he stepped down and nodded once. Once Sticks was in, he shut the door, still trembling but not quite as badly, then  _ locked _ it. Because it locked. It didn't just say it would- he could hear the lock click into the wall. Ex-venting softly, he slowly walked back over to sit back down on the berth, eyeing the cutters for a moment before propping his pedes up again. For a moment, he slowly wavered between reaching for the cutters and not, then took them, huffed, and rather shakily moved to cut the locks free. His shaking intensified as he got closer, pushing the clippers into place, but he brought the blades together with a solid  _ click _ and a flicking motion that tossed the broken halves of the lock-ring free.

That was good, it was  _ good _ , but he could  _ feel _ the click all through his leg plating, his frame seeming to sink back into itself. The shaking started up again, and Arclight shut his optics tight against the flow of tears, but kept going by touch. Find the next lock along the seam with fingertips, set the clippers around it, brace himself through the click, and again. And again. Keep going. Just. Just keep going. Couldn't stop. Didn't dare stop, because if he stopped, he might not get another chance. The shaking might get away.


	18. Chapter 18

##  **Malusdraco** **01/22/2019**

" _ Fingerpainting _ of course," Salvo said with a devilish smirk, "What  _ else _ could I be talking about? Get your mind outta the gutter, Reaver." He let out a loud laugh, spurred on by Red's amusement, "Though, serious question, I always wonder about people with claws, don't you end up scratching things a lot? Don't think I could handle it."

Salvo shrugged and looked back at his work, carefully pulling the brush down the side of a plate. He was getting close to being done with Red's shoulder now and was beginning to think of what'd be next. Face? Would Reaver and he paint Red's face together? That seemed almost funny. Maybe best to ask Red, "How're you holding up, Red? Ready for us to get your face now or...?"

.

Sticks watched concernedly as Arclight began working on the locks. They could see him brace every time the clippers snapped together, Primus, maybe a saw would have been better. What would have spared him the noise would have also been much more dangerous. They kept a close audial on what was happening as they busied themself with the heater. They could hear the berth responding to Arclight's shaking and soon found they, too dreaded the next click. As soon as the heater was up and running, pointing up at the berth, they carefully turned around to watch. Arclight wouldn't want their help, they guessed. Any intrusion might set something off so they stood there for a moment, wondering what they could do until-

"Did you find anything in the vents?" Sticks spoke up, they could try to distract him, or at least mitigate the sensation, "I've never been up in there personally but once I saw Scalpel drop in from one of them." They decided what they were going to do and began moving to the opposite side Arclight was working on, "Course that wasn't in one of these rooms, it was in a surgery recovery room- Different layout." Would they mention her proposed ability to crawl through patient-room vents specifically? No, "I was still a little woozy from anesthesia but she just popped out of one of the vents and dropped down. Really freaked my partner out. I figured out later there was something of a drama going outside and one of my friends had decided to sit in front of the door." 

Sticks pulled themself up onto the berth next to Arclight. They didn't want to crowd him or get in his way, just make themself felt, available. They leaned very carefully against his side, servos in their lap and continued, "Take your time Arclight, you're going to be alright. I'm right here if you need my help. You're doing such a good job. Would it help for me to continue talking?"

##  **Betta132** **01/22/2019**

"Well, yes, you do have to be careful. Or some wear claw-caps. Or... some people, I'm told, like to be scratched up to some degree," Reaver muttered, cheek slits flaring again, and gladly moved onto the new topic. "A full painting of one's face isn't the most comfortable thing when it starts to dry. Given that we aren't considerably altering your colors, I'm inclined to let the color come back on its own. You should match fairly well. Let me see you," he coaxed, and gently grasped Red's chin, tilting their helm back and forth. "Hm. Helm, yes. Face... an arch of white dots following both brows could look cute, I'd think, and highlight your expressions a bit more clearly. Now... may I take this off?" he asked softly, giving the blindfold the slightest tug. "And who would you like in here?" 

Red thought for a moment, then reached up and unwrapped the bandages, aware of Focus in the background. A deep in-vent, and they turned to stare at Focus for a moment, letting him get a good look so he wouldn't be inclined to snoop, then turned back to look up at Reaver. "Yes, please." 

Reaver purred encouragingly, passing the polish supplies to Sticks, and cupped Red's chin again as he moved one of the tins of white paint up close. "All right. Salvo, you start on their helm, I'll get these facial details. Give their antennae a polish, but don't paint them- the color is close enough, and I don't want to muffle their senses even the bit that painting would cause."

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **01/22/2019**

Arclight didn't speak, but nodded once, leaning slightly into Sticks' frame. Opening his optics, he stared down at the panel for a moment, ex-vented softly, and flicked the last lock out, letting the panel open. Another rotor popped out, like the ones on his back, except this one could spread itself open into its full shape as he raised that leg off the berth. It spun a couple of times, slowly, lazily, sped up and revved just fast enough to start blurring, then and stopped- he couldn't run those too much or too fast, otherwise his leg would start going places. 

Their whole frame relaxed a tick, and they had to fold their rotors away again to sit comfortably, but they kept the door open. They were aware of their frame, almost too aware, but this- this helped. Sensory input that they hadn't had in a long time, quiet and calm and pleasant, mostly data about temperature and any sort of air movement. There wasn't too much to feel here, aside from... 

They paused, uncovering but not extending their back rotors, and listened to the air for a moment. The only thing there was the air movement caused by the nearby heat source. Almost reassuring. 

Another, deep vent, then he put an arm around Sticks and squeezed, softly, lowering his servo to work on the other locks again. He wanted his rotors free more than he wanted to avoid the clicks. And, this time, he matched it- clacking the rotors in his other leg with every motion. That was a  _ good _ click, or it had been, and it tilted things back slightly towards a less negative direction.

Arms, next. At that point, he was shaking hard enough that he nicked plating a few times with the clippers, but he kept going. Faster now, much faster, wrenching the rings away hard enough to bend them and yank on the holes that they'd been threaded through. 

And then it was  _ over _ , and Arclight popped his rotors out with a shaky ex-vent, then threw the clippers across the room as hard as he could. Which was hard. They hit the door tip-first and stuck in for an instant before falling off with a clank, Arclight flinching at the noise, and he shook both arms a few times before looking down at Sticks. A quiet "sorry" for throwing the tool, and they looked around the room again, still shaking but starting to relax. The colors helped a bit- things were mismatched, and it was purple and the lightest green, not blue and white. He didn't like the light blue in the other room. Didn't  _ want _ it on himself, and he scratched at his own chassis with blunted claws where the first stroke of the new paint had been, right over his spark. That wasn't a  _ favor _ , repainting him like the damned  _ furniture _ , he hadn't bought the lie. It was  _ claiming _ . Fuck.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/22/2019**

"R-Right!" Salvo said, he quickly put the finishing touches on Red's shoulder and let the brush rest in the red paint pot. He weaved from side to side a little bit, trying to figure out the best way to get at their helm given the bot's wet paint. "Alright Red I'm gonna squeeze behind you," He said with a short tap to their side. 

It wasn't difficult to make sure he'd be heard with the shuffling of his aft against the floor, like pit he was gonna get up. Eventually he was sitting behind Red, ready to polish. He smiled, "Alright Red get ready for some head pats," and got to work, one servo gently holding their helm steady while the other dutifully polishing. He went very gently over first one audial, then the other, twisting the cloth round each of Red's antennae with careful fingers.

.

At the confirmation, Sticks continued, keeping close optic on what he was doing, "I  _ thought _ you were a quadcopter. One of my friends has rotors that look a little bit like yours. They're always griping about their height so I can imagine they're gonna be a little jealous. They can't... fly, either." Sticks trailed off, that wasn't exactly a particularly fun thing to talk about, especially when they knew Spade blamed them for their loss of flight. They were quiet for a beat then in-vented, "You know there's..." they quieted again, Blackspark's kid was great and all, but... they wondered if anything ever came from Arclight's captivity. Not something they wanted to touch upon at least right now. The emotional exhaustion from the day was clawing into their chassis, a sour, kind of melancholy feeling they couldn't quite shake. They took a deep breath and started again, grasping onto  _ something _ that wasn't charged, "I remember, way back before the war really got going I used to work in the Iacon archives, that's... what I was built for, really. The thing I really miss about Iacon was, there were so many people, so many strangers. You'd walk through the streets and people wouldn't know... how you were hurt, what you're afraid of. You were allowed to be a stranger. Kind of a stupid thing to want now, it'll probably never be like that again anyw-" 

Sticks jolted upwards as Arclight threw the clippers at the door, startled by the movement. They leaned over and examined the tool from their spot on the berth, letting out a contemplative but impressed "huh." A few moments of tired gawking and they turned their helm up to Arclight, "How are you feeling now, Arclight? Tired? Hungry? Want some time to yourself?"

##  **Betta132** **01/22/2019**

Red giggled soundlessly, held still only by Reaver's touches, as ticklish antennae were stroked. Oh! Oh, goodness. Oh, no- no way to stay serious there, and no need to try, not when Reaver's field purred something approving and oh-so-warm when they smiled. Oh. Oh, they felt... they felt good, and, before they quite registered it, they'd whispered "definitely like being alive" under their breath. 

Reaver paused for a moment, then sighed, crooned "I should hope so," to Red, and followed it up with "hold still" as he brought a delicate, tapered brush in close. At least he didn't have to worry about Red seeing the brush coming and getting nervous, or about getting paint in their optics! So he ex-vented slowly to make sure his frame was steady, and began to pattern Red's brow ridges with white dots, neatly following the natural arch with its slightly darker pigment. An important detail of someone's facial expressions. Without the optics to emote, the bright, attention-grabbing white would be useful here. 

Delicate work or not, a handful of dots was quick and easy to pattern on, and before long Red turned to look up at Salvo. "It's cold," they reported softly, then offered him a tiny smile, expression brightening up a bit. The white definitely helped, and the line of dots along each arch, starting out relatively large and then narrowing to tiny specks right at the outer edges, was a cute little set of details. 

.

"Hexcopter," Arclight confirmed, and didn't say anything else for a little while. He wasn't sure how he was feeling, or what he wanted. 

Definitely tired. So, so tired. And he wanted... hm. 

Looking down at Sticks, he contemplated the smaller bot for a few more moments, then spoke just a bit more confidently than before. "Are you okay? Need someone?" he asked, not really sure  _ why _ he was asking that second thing (who was he going to get? he didn't know anybody living), and leaned a bit more firmly against them. A few moments of thought, then he sighed heavily and noted "tired", following it up with "sore". Limbs hurt. Shoulders ached a bit where he'd shifted them oddly while moving too quickly to work on his arms. "Better. Fueled more. Almost everything loose." 

Staring down at his forearms, he tapped on a couple of small, more standard compartment-like plates around his wrists, wiggling his fingers slightly. "Welders. Not... not delicate, not medical. Big ships. Dock work. And- boosters," he noted, a few small plates transforming aside on his front, below his shoulders, to show the telescoped structure of something like a small jet. "Don't work in root mode. Or I'd've blasted 'im. Couldn't." 

A long pause, then Arclight turned to Sticks again, voice much softer. "You need someone." 

Sticks was such an emotional little thing! And it was appreciated, it was massively appreciated, thank you, but... were they okay? At the very least, they needed to sit with someone. Someone who hadn't brought everything that had upset them in the first place. Or- maybe yes with someone upsetting, but also with someone good. Had... had they mentioned a partner?

  
  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/23/2019**

Salvo had been just close enough to hear Red's tiny comment. He didn't have the distance Reaver did, nor, possibly the life experience to not be caught offguard. He'd been personal witness to far too much despair and far too little hope. He wasn't about to start crying, not when there were two other mechs in the room and one of them had already dealt so nonchalantly with the phrase. So when Red turned to look at him and smiled he couldn't help the powerful dose of  _ love _ pouring from his field. He wore a crooked kind of trying-not-to-cry smile and gave Red's helm a firm pet with the polishing cloth, "Looks cute as  _ fuck. _ "

His voice gave him away, wavering under the aggression. He cleared his throat a bit to control himself, "Tell ya what, your smile was already cute and now it's even  _ cuter. _ I didn't know that was possible."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/23/2019**

Sticks was quiet for a moment, was it really that noticeable? They feel like they'd asked themself that question far too much. Something about them seemed to make others worry. At last they shook their helm, "Don't worry about me, worry about yourself. I appreciate your concern, though," They leaned a little more into Arclight, "Luckily the solution for both tired and sore is to rest. Let me get you some more blankets from over there."

Sticks slowly pushed themself off the berth. There was something innately comforting about the warmth of Arclight's frame that a deep part of them didn't like leaving, however much horror the rest of him had caused them. They made to pick up a blanket from the cart but thought better of it and instead unlocked the wheels. It was only now that Arclight's words really sunk in and they stopped again to sigh, "You're right, though. I need... someone. My... arms are sore from..." they shuddered and tried to banish the sensation-memory of opening Arclight's chassis like an assisted vivisection, "But these are my own problems, I'll deal with them. Your only job is to heal."

Sticks brought the rolling cart around to the foot of the berth and pulled a large blanket out from under the small collection of energon cubes. It took a bit to gather up all the material, but they walked the bundle over to Arclight, gently unwrapping it into his lap, "Medbay berths aren't quite as squishy as the ones in normal quarters but a couple extra blankets do help. You've got some more blankets and energon on that cart for when you need them. The-uhh" they pointed to the back wall, "the cabinets over there usually have some extra pillows. Sometimes other stuff too but nothing sharp or a hazard. Let me just-"

Sticks spent the next minute or so picking up the spent locks on the floor. Luckily even though there were more of them, they were just small enough for them to hold at once. They puttered over to the other rolling cart and set them down, "If you want these now to destroy I can leave them here or else they're going to go in a box with the other garbage we pulled off you for when you know what you want to do with it all. But for now, rest." They took a deep breath and looked up again into Arclight's optics, "Will you be alright alone?"

##  **Betta132** **01/23/2019**

Reaver seemed to have realized that Red's comment had  _ not _ been some kind of unusual expression of satisfaction, and looked vaguely concerned. Okay, yes, not wanting to die was good, but... was that a new development? Well. Primus. Poor thing. And then,  _ oh _ , Salvo's field swamped him in emotion, and Reaver crooned long and low under his breath in instinctive response, field thrumming warmth and comfort back at him. "Good. There we are. Let's see, Red... how about  I work on polishing your back while Salvo does your helm?" 

Red ex-vented softly in a slightly louder purr, and- almost moved to nuzzle Salvo before realizing they couldn't do that right now. Instead, they reached out for him, grasping at whatever plating their servos touched, and purred loud enough to be easily heard. "Thank you. I- yes, please, Reaver." 

.

As the energon they'd drank settled into their frame, Arclight started to heat up a bit further. Point-one-percenters ran warm. Still, Arclight gladly accepted the blankets, beginning to bundle up in them for comfort. They hadn't been... actually given anywhere comfortable to sleep in a long time. He'd wanted to steal his tormentor's berth after there was no one around to stop him, but it smelled like the mech, smelled  _ strong _ , and,  _ fuck _ , he couldn't bare that. This berth- curling up slightly, he nuzzled into it, inhaling deeply to pick up on the scents. Nothing much, just a faint scent of cleanser. Good. 

The locks, ugh. No idea what to do with all that. Destroying them sounded good, but he didn't know what he could do with them right now- damned things were just little metal rings with latch structures to them, too small to get a proper grip on them to break. Ex-venting harshly, he gave a shoving motion in the general direction of the locks, trying to banish them, and tucked up into a tighter ball. No. Didn't want those. Fuck. He wanted the blankets, might grab the pillows later, might drink later, but, ugh- not those. Fuck. 

As for the question... he wasn't entirely sure. He'd been... hm. Not  _ fine _ on the ship alone, but not... not actively hurting anything. Sighing quietly, he bundled himself up a bit tighter, then met Sticks' optics as well as he could and spoke quietly. "Won't hurt myself," he declared, soft but certain, and that was the best he could promise. He didn't want to be in pain. Couldn't promise that he wouldn't... a lot of other things, but he wouldn't self-harm. And that was a start, wasn't it? 

Now, he wanted to sleep, and he wanted Sticks to please go and snuggle whoever that was. "Go. Leave. Deal with it. Wanna sleep," he declared, and pulled the blankets down over his face, curled up into a little ball. Everything smelled so warm, thanks to the heater, and it was  _ comfortable _ . Better than the floor, at least.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/23/2019**

"The curse of wet paint is that I'm not allowed to hug you right now," Salvo said, "I'm gonna keep a tally and repay you once you're all done-  _ that's _ a promise. Now Reaver I guess this means we're switching spots." Once again he began unsure back-and-forth movement as he tried to figure out how Reaver was going to get around, then settled for standing up and shuffling around to Red's front, "I'm gonna stand over you, Red so I can get your helm." He looked down to find his panel in a not-so-good spot, "And I'll warn ya now, try not to lean too far forward or else you'll get a faceful of... something you don't want." he chuckled, "Let's just say you're not missing out on a view."

Salvo spent a little longer than needed polishing Red's helm, taking the time to pet them quite thoroughly, working his fingers into transformation seams and other crevices. When at last he was done polishing, he sat down for a bit, then did himself one better and lay down on the floor, bullet trails crunching together with a quiet cry of "stretch break!"

.

"Alright," Sticks said quietly, giving Arclight a slight nod, "If something comes up, if you need someone, just... send me a comm alright. I can't promise I'll come but someone will. We're all nearby." They gave a slight smile to the ball of blankets the bot had become and rolled the cart out of the door. 

Once outside something inside them seemed to relax, letting some of the stress seep back out from behind it. They stood still for a moment, waiting-hoping for the feeling to pass. Their entire frame felt heavy, as if standing too long would make them melt into the floor. Their mind was ominously quiet- so quiet they couldn't think. They willed themself away from what they'd seen today as they pushed the cart over to the shower stall. Silently they collected the stash of padlocks and the mound of wet towels. They could feel something buzzing in the back of their head as they put the towels into the cleaning chute. And then they stopped again, looking down at the collection of locks as they realized they didn't know where to put them. They felt their optics begin to spark as emotion broke through. Finally,  _ finally _ they commed Forceps.  _.:F- I:. _ They felt a sickening jolt run through their chassis before they could say anything important and let out a choked sob. Safety was  _ so close. _

Sticks hurriedly pushed the cart into a corner and jogged to the entrance of the medics' quarters  _.:Forceps, I need someone- I need to be-:. _ They ran through the halls until they found Forceps's door,  _.:Need to be around something that reminds me of you. I'm going to-:. _ They went in and summarily dove into the bed, pulling the blankets around them and quietly shaking,  _.:I'm in your bed. New patient was...difficult:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/23/2019**

Red purred oh-so-quietly the entire time, despite having to resist all the urges to snuggle, and twitched a couple of times towards one or the other of them. So much touching, but it was  _ good _ touching, and all they wanted was to touch more. 

"The paint on your face will dry quickly, the nanites take hold of the pigment easily. Then you can, at least, nuzzle," Reaver chuckled, working his way gently across Red's back. "All the delicate little plates on the lower back are rather pleasant to work on. I'm going to polish your whole back right now, Red, if that's all right. If I get to anywhere you don't want me, do let you know, we can find workarounds for any discomfort. I promise not to be grabby. Now, could you- up on your knees? I can't quite reach," he explained, easing Red up onto their knees, which allowed him to access. Well. It was going to look odd if he painted everywhere  _ but _ Red's aft. 

"That's fine," Red reported softly, doing something a bit odd with their face to try and get a feel for the paint, then slowly raised their servo to ever-so-lightly touch the paint. Or, where the paint had been. There wasn't any sort of layer, not that they could feel, so they focused harder and rubbed a bit more firmly. No paint layer. Interesting! They knew their nanites were overactive to work on their frame, but this was fast- all the pigments were already integrating into their surface layer. Helm tilting to face where they could hear all the noises from Salvo's frame, they purred gently, hopefully, and wiggled their newly highlighted brows in what was probably an enticing look. Nuzzling time? 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/23/2019**

Arclight got up one more time, for this. To lock the door, and to circle around and grab the pillows from the cabinet, plus an energon cube. Those obtained, he crawled back into the blankets and bundled himself up again, tucking his helm into a nest of pillows around his helm and shoulders. Soft, so soft. That lingering scent of cleanser on everything, but a soft cleanser, and- oh! Another scent. That was... someone. Not anyone they recognized at first, it took a few thoughts, but... hm. The short, solid bot who'd. Gotten kicked a few times while gathering Arclight up. Arclight tensed the slightest fraction, then defiantly pushed his face into the scent and inhaled deep, repeating it until the prickles of unease started to fade. He was fine. He'd... really been scared, for that, but... Patches hadn't been trying to hurt him. Only move him. He'd... maybe he ought to apologize. 

Later. For now, he was going to be soft, curl up, and purr. It wasn't a happy purr, of course- it was a comforting purr, an intentional noise meant to help him relax. It worked, he knew it worked, but it wouldn't work right away. Still... it worked. 

Nothing smelled of his tormentor, That was a start. This was soft, it was warm, there was fuel. He was allowed to open and close the door, to lock it, though he didn't know if others could override it. Probably they could. Sticks, at least, was... far too genuine to be lying. 

Some people were... good. He'd had someone try to ask, early on, if he was okay. They'd been shooed away before they could get any sort of answer, but they'd tried. Some people were genuinely good. Some of them were absolutely terrible, horrible beyond words, but... some weren't. These seemed. Oh. 

He was inclined to trust them. He was! He actually wanted to trust them. 

.

_.:So I'm told. Scalpel gave me an overview on her way to kick a few pieces of scrap metal to death. I do apologize, I would have been there to help, but I suspected my... lack of berthside manner would make things worse. I've been examining the ship. If it makes anything any better, we found his abuser's corpse trapped in the air lock. Strangled to death, by the looks of it, probably with that leash. It appears to have been slow. He nearly tore out his own throat clawing to get the leash off. I find myself lacking any sort of sympathy. We're probably going to use his corpse as flooring materials, unless our newest patient has any other ideas. I will be there in a few kliks, but I cannot promise calm, I am. I am fucking PISSED:. _

True to their word, Forceps turned up quickly enough. Damp and smelling vaguely of scrubbing powder from having removed the corpse-stink, but there, and not actually smelling like a corpse. A pause, then they sighed, shut and locked the door, walked loudly over to Sticks, and laid down on top of them.  _.:Tell me what you need, Sticks:. _ they prompted, shifting around a bit, but stayed on top of them. Pressure, warmth, and the chance to stroke unimpeded at their audials.(edited)

January 24, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/24/2019**

Salvo caught Red's brow wiggle and returned a delighted laugh, "I see you've already figured out the power of strong brows. Wait-is it- is it really  _ dry _ ?" He squatted for a second to trace a finger over Red's new brows, "Huh, that's...  _ huh. _ Well I guess you're cleared for nuzzling then, but again I'll warn you you're only gonna get a face fulla groin -  _ unless. _ Maybe i can quickly do the back of your helm. Hold on for a bit." He quickly bent down to get the red paint again, this time trying a different technique. He started from the back, making a quick but neat rim of fresh paint against the lowest bits, then worked his way up incrementally. Once he was about halfway up the back of Red's helm he at last squatted down again, "If I can't hug you can I at least sit in your lap for a bit while i work on your helm?" 

.

Sticks shuddered at the mental picture of a corpse in the airlock- at the horrible duty it would be to put it there -at the awful process of taking it out and melting it down. There was still so much to be done, and Arclight's work was only beginning. They wished they were angry, they wished they could feel powerful, or accomplished or in control. For fuck's sake they'd just brought someone back from the brink and almost singlehandedly had gotten them stable enough to coherently communicate. Why did they feel like they'd just witnessed the execution of an innocent.

With the weight of Forceps's frame came a quiet sanction to let go. A few moments of trembling silence and all of their emotions seemed to pour out at once. They wrapped their arms around the other's frame, as tight as they could, tucked their helm against their chassis, and quietly sobbed. Their field was trembling despair mixed with a low level of guilt. 

After a little while Sticks quieted down and loosened their grip. They lay silently for a while, letting the warmth, the  _ safety _ sink in, and eventually felt themself calm down. There were a lot of things they wanted to say: 'sorry I'm keeping you from wrecking things,' 'wow that was  _ fucked, _ ' 'I should be doing better,' but instead they settled for  _.:Thank you for coming:. _

Sticks was contemplative for a moment and then continued,  _.:How do you... continue. How can you deal with knowing there'll be more and that you'll be responsible for saving them?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/24/2019**

Red trilled quite happily at the idea, and sat still only long enough for Salvo to finish. He was  _ almost _ too large to make this comfortable, but not quite! Therefore, Red happily accepted the lap full of gunmech, and pushed their face into whatever was at face height. Ooh! He was warm. And this,  _ this _ , oh, Primus, this. Perfect. Warm, familiar bot against their front, Reaver still working on their back (well, aft, but that was fine, he wasn't acting like anything in particular was happening), and perfect safety. 

Once Red's back was polished properly, Reaver picked up the paints again and set to work. It took a little stroking to ease some of the plates and get the edges lifted, but it was all going well. Not too many hard lines or sharp-edged bits. Simple enough. Made all the better by the adorableness going on in front of him. 

.

Forceps scritched and rubbed around Sticks' audials until they seemed a bit calmer, then sighed and curled up a bit more firmly, comfortable. Well. Physically comfortable.  _.:What else would I do? Ignore them? It helps if I get to see the results. Look at Acus. He went through something... absolutely atrocious, but he's doing... reasonably well. I suspect some of his shy personality has always been there. Everyone on this ship would be dead a thousand and one times over if not for medics. Someone has to. But... there are ways you could help, be a medic, that would not involve emergent cases. If they stress you too much, that is not shameful, and we can find you some other way to help. But... this? This was an exceptionally unpleasant case. I suggest you give a few other things a try before making any decisions. We'll likely have cases which are... well. More like yours. Picture it from my perspective, how would dealing with your crew have felt? For me... something of a relief, knowing we had a few others safe. Now... breathe. I only saw the first part. Tell me this- how are they doing now? They seemed to be healthy enough, putting up as much of a fight as they did against Patches. Distressing as it can be to deal with a fighting patient, at least it can be an indicator of health. So... tell me what improvements you made:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/24/2019**

Salvo settled in gently, careful not to hurt Red's legs with his weight. One servo softly cupped their cheek while the other worked over their helm with the paintbrush. He slowed down, too. Arms were one thing, you could reasonably ignore a bad paintjob on someone's arms, but their helm? Arguably the most important part. He gently stroked Red's cheek with his thumb as he worked, "You know I'm sure glad we decided to come here instead of trying to do this just the two of us in my room. I can only imagine how the room would look. Probably be more paint on the ground than on you." He let out a gentle chuckle and guided Red's helm to the side so he could paint around their audial. 

.

Sticks stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking, listening to the tiny sounds of Forceps's frame- the slight whirring and ticking they'd grown so fond of.  _.:It's so much more pressure... when it's awful like this. I thought- I handled it when it was just injuries from war, those, at least were impersonal. As bad as it could get, the intention was to kill, not to... Even-even as a prisoner, as bad as that was they didn't... thank Primus they didn't... I'd-I'd be dead, and so would everyone else:. _ They shuddered again and tried to push down the feeling of their spark slipping away.  _.:It's- it was personal -more personal. They needed my help. And I wanted to help them, so badly. And I was the only one who could help them. If- if I'd failed...:. _ This was beginning to drift into territory they hadn't expected as the old, tortured image of Goldenrod bubbled back up into their mind. They gave a sharp, surprised in-vent. 

Sticks looked the specter in the face as the sadness and pain of the memory pushed past them.  _.:But I didn't- I didn't fail this time. He's alive, he's sleeping in a berth right now. He's- he's drinking, slowly but surely, and he's safe, at last he's safe:. _ And the tears came once again, but this time they were laced with relief.   _.:Their name is Arclight and they're a quad-no- hexcopter. They said something about docks-welding at the docks. And th-they care. They asked after Patches, and asked if I was okay. I treated the wounds around their neck and wrists an-and their scars and got some of the locks of their frame. They got the rest off. They're stable now, I think:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/24/2019**

"And I suspect you would have tried to do the details with paint rollers," Reaver muttered, teasing, carefully applying the paint to Red's back with a slightly larger brush. "You know- I do have a few airbrushes, and those are suitable for use on frames, but I tend to prefer brushes. I prefer the sensation of them, myself, over being sprayed with paint. And I find them more pleasant to use, they don't  _ buzz _ in your servos like airbrushes do. Plus... much quieter around audials. Try to keep the paint especially thin there, so as not to impede the air sensors badly- the nanites will thin the pigments as needed, but it happens faster if the application is thin." 

Red wasn't really listening. Just  _ purring _ , softly, rather convincingly conveying drowsy blinking. "Mm, like th' brushes," they decided, resisting the urge to snuggle into Salvo's servos instead of holding still for the painting, and crooned oh-so-gently under their breath. "Would return the favor, if... if that'd work. 'd just... paint m' fingers all up. Hm. Massage later. Lots." 

.

_.:If you'd failed,:. _ Forceps began, almost-scolding,  _.:we would have helped them regardless. It might have stressed them slightly further to have someone larger than you are, but we would not let them be hurt. You have a safety net now, Sticks, understand? What, did- did you think we would leave them to suffer as some sort of... twisted, corrupted teaching method? You are safe. And... yes. This is worse than war. This is massively worse. But it is, and I cannot emphasize this enough, it is rare. I don't expect you to see anything like this for... centuries, if ever. Not this particular flavor of horror. Now...:. _

They didn't have an engine, and that was really too bad right here, because engines were good for purring. Nor could they purr with their voice, not right now, not as angry as they were. So, instead, they curled tighter around Sticks, rubbing firmly at the back of their neck with one servo and their audials with the other.  _.:Breathe. Horrifying as this is, they are alive. They should heal. Deep vents, Sticks, breathe, and focus on that. They are alive. You helped. Now... hexcopter? Rare. Usually much smaller than that. A hexcopter point-one-percenter in a job usually associated with brute force... that is very, very rare. We'll have to see if they'll let you have a look at their alt later. At least, given their spark strength, once it recovers further they should heal fast. Point-one-percenters can support an impressive swarm of nanites. They need more fuel than most, but their spark is incredibly efficient, their frames far stronger than usual, every fiber of them optimized by their nanites to the greatest strength and durability possible. Hard to hurt. Even relatively small frames like theirs. Oh, I'm honestly surprised Patches isn't in here clinging to you. He's an emotional one. He's clinging to someone, I can guarantee you that:!. _

Shifting around a bit further, they got comfortable curled around Sticks, pulling a blanket up over their frame.  _.:What do you need, now? Fuel? That can't have been... physically easy:. _ (edited)

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/24/2019**

"Ah right-" Salvo went to dry his brush on his arm and carefully dabbed around Red's audial, "Don't- wouldn't it be easier with an airbrush? That's the way I've seen it done- at least in passing- MTOs and their paintjobs." He pushed the paintbrush down their audial fin, making sure  to catch the edges, and then looked down at their face, "Now would you pick the color or would I? Suppose we should consult someone with some decoration sense too cause it'd get aaaaall over." 

Salvo laughed and softly touched the tip of his crest to Red's forehelm, "You seem a lil tired, Red. You think you have enough energy left for us to finish your helm and back? Though I guess we could continue as you're napping. Wouldn't be too hard, huh?"

.

_.:I didn't... mean it that way:. _ Sticks sighed, they weren't about to expect people would die or suffer without their help. That'd be a disservice to the real medics. But... Forceps was right, they weren't alone anymore. They'd left the eons of struggling on the sand planet behind. It wasn't all on them, even if it seemed that way on occasion. Their vents steadied again eventually as emotion began to ebb away. They opened their optics and looked up at Forceps as they realized they'd been venting to them,  _.:I- I'm sorry, suppose this is what we need a therapist for, this and... everything else. Poor Notepad:. _

Sticks stretched their arms out around Forceps  _.:Every day I'm reminded I'm not built for this job. My whole frame aches. It... was exhausting. I think... some energon would help. Maybe find some high-grade, maybe getting drunk would make everything stop feeling so fucking heavy:. _

Sticks could feel themself inching into bitter territory, much more welcoming than sad, felt better. They sighed and pushed their face into Forceps's neck,  _.:What kinda partner am I, just yammering on about myself to you. Are you gonna be okay, Songbird?:. _ They reached a servo up to pet Forceps's helm  _.:Cleanup can't have been pleasant:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/24/2019**

"Mmnn, pick out th' colors by... by smells," Red suggested, a bit quietly, and leaned forward slightly before catching themself. "Mmh. Don' have anythin' else t' do." 

"You know, if you get comfortable on your front, we could finish the backs of everything here. As long as you don't move too much. I'm inclined to move the paints away from you in case you move any during recharge," Reaver commented, and chuckled when Red immediately started to ease down onto their front. "I thought so. Go on down- have a nap, relax," he purred, rubbing a portion of Red's back that wasn't painted yet. "I'll stop if you start moving too much, all right?" 

.

_.:Hush. You don't need to vent to, specifically, a therapist. I can take it. You're hardly doing me any harm. Stay there:. _ Forceps ordered, sitting up, and stretched momentarily before going to get some energon. Just a little cube, snack-sized.  _.:Give it a little while longer, and then I will happily get drunk with you if you still want to. Cleanup was... better than most. Only one body, someone I know deserves to be dead. I am fine. More... intrigued than anything else, actually. I noted some odd structures on the corpse, so:. _ a pause, curling up around Sticks again and shoving the cube into their chassis so they would definitely grab it,  _.:I took it apart slightly. Fascinating!:. _

Deliberately speeding their fans for a moment in the best purr they could manage, they snuggled up against Sticks' frame, less out of a desire to contact and more out of a desire to help.  _.:And I found a reason why. Bot had a thoroughly interesting structure around his chassis and spark chamber, almost like a battery. It still had some charge in it, and took more charge when I offered it with a small battery. Energy scars around it, and around the inside. I strongly suspect it would drain from a spark if given the chance. So... still horrible, but... a fraction less so, if it was for practical reasons. The rest of the treatment, though... controlling sadism. Blackspark took some recognizable pieces of him in case anyone else will want proof of death. The rest, we've stuffed in an airtight container. We'll ask -Arclight, was it- what they want to do with him later. Assuming they don't want to dump him into space or anything like it, Crucible will... probably use him for scrap materials. Make him into part of the floor somewhere. Corpses of decent people, or unknowns, get treated respectfully- we harvest organs if we can, to keep others alive, and leave the bodies somewhere quiet. The ones like this? They get to be flooring:. _

Huffing satisfaction, Forceps curled in to kiss Sticks' audial, giving them a firm squeeze.  _.:That helps, also. Knowing that someone like that can't hurt anyone any more, because he is a corpse, and probably will become flooring quickly enough:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/24/2019**

Salvo smiled, his field glowing something affectionate. He quickly transferred the handle of the brush in his mouth to catch Red's front as they went down. He moved back a bit and gently guided their helm to his thigh to let the rest of their frame do what they wanted, "You prefer a pillow? I can get you a pillow," his voice was muffled through the brush handle. He spit it out into his servo and examined it, looking apologetically at Reaver for the barely-visible bite marks in his brush. 

Salvo's servos were only moderately clean, else he'd be scratching Red's chin with more fingers, "Nap well, buddy. Hopefully some of this will be dry by the time you wake up. And I promise, I definitely won't paint you green."

.

Sticks took the cube and propped themself up on one arm to look at Forceps. Taking a sip they gently bumped their helm against the other's  _.:Much as I hate the image of a corpse in an airlock or... whatever an airtight container would be if not a cask, that fiend deserves any disrespect we can lay upon him. I'd say we should see what we could get from it, parts-wise but... seems a bit unethical. Who'd want a part from someone like that? Likely to rip it out:. _

"May its spark be forgotten by the cosmos," Sticks mumbled, taking a swig of energon, "It's the best curse I know." They thought  vocalizing the phrase would have more weight, but quickly found they didn't quite want to speak more.  _.:It'd be quite a twist of fate for Arclight to take whatever's left of the spark chamber for themself but I doubt they'd want that. Don't think I'd trust that either in the long run given the aforementioned problem-Fuck:. _ They shuddered again, their grip tightening on their cube,  _.:They still need a proper spark chamber. How are we gonna- Did- Did you get snaps of that? It's really fucking holding onto me, the vision of this- this bare spark:. _

" _ Fuck, _ " Sticks rubbed their face with one servo to try to banish the image,  _.:I could have reached in and plucked it out, I was that close. It's really bothering me they're just... existing like that, knowing that underneath that armor there's just... nothing. How the fuck do we even fix it anyway- some kinda graft? Do we build on top of what was already there? Is there even a precedent for this? And like pit he's gonna let us even remotely close enough to his spark to fix it- with good fucking reason, all he's been through:. _

January 25, 2019

##  **Betta132** **01/25/2019**

"Oh, that was fast," Reaver noted, scritching at the back of Red's neck (not painted), and smiling slightly as their vents plateaued out into sleep. "Not too surprising. Bots recovering from physical and mental stress tend to fall asleep easily when they feel safe... helps them recover. Hopefully they won't start moving too much. Keep being sweet with them, we'll see if we can keep them calm. And please don't bite too many more of my brushes, I'll have to fill those in. This one, the circumstances, I can excuse," he purred, not at all upset, and set back to his work. "You're doing well." 

.

_.:Not in decent enough shape to use for parts. Nor does anyone want material from the soul cradle of a sadist, no, not unless they're looking for a reason why. And, yes, I have snaps, and there is a precedent. Injury that severe to the internal protective layers that doesn't end up being fatal is rare, but it does happen. We'll have to talk with Arclight about if he would be comfortable with material taken from anonymous corpses, that material is difficult to synthesise, and we'll need him to trust at least some of us enough for deep sedation. We would need further scans, and we would have to fabricate new petals to act as replacements. Ugh. At least the cuts are clean. And... it's not an emergency situation, it's not a war zone, we don't need to fight them to help them, we can keep them safe until they trust us enough for us to easily help. We can, and will, repair them. But not right now. We can't do more for them right now, partly because there is... nothing more to do that would help. They need to rest:. _

Ex-venting long and slow, they sighed deeply and hugged Sticks tight, pushing their face into his frame.  _.:We can, and will, help them. You already did. We just... need to let them alone for a little while, and approach them gently. At some point, a few more thorough scans would be a good idea. They had some old scar tissue on these, nothing in particular- general wartime injuries. And I wonder if they might let you have a look at their alt? In the meantime... we can use the ship they were on. It needs repairs, and the inside needs to be stripped and power-washed, but nothing is wrong with the ship in and of itself. That, we can put to better use than scrap metal:. _

Nuzzling up close, they kissed their way along Sticks' jawline, hoping to calm them a bit further.  _.:We'll have to stop somewhere to let them, and everyone else, fly and otherwise move around. If and when we find somewhere safe to explore, do you want to come?:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/25/2019**

Salvo smiled at Reaver, then looked down at his lapful of bot, "Yeah I've... had a bit of experience. It's... it's easier this time around." After all they weren't still in a warzone- he didn't have to leave to fight and worry about not coming back to his ward. And people were much more forgiving here. They knew he was doing something good as much as he did. He gently slid his servo under Red's cheek to prop their helm up a bit more and continued painting. 

Salvo hummed, "If you think I can fix your brush, I will. And next time I'll be sure to toss it to Focus instead, sure he has quick reflexes."

.

_.:Yeah, I... I think so too. As much as 'nothing more we can do right now' is a detestable phrase, it's true:. _ They closed their optics and let out a soft, almost pitiful noise at Forceps's attention. They felt their frame relax a little more as their field eased out something deeply affectionate. This was real safety. Sticks traced their fingers down their partner's jaw and followed it to the back of their neck where they began to slowly pet.  _.:Amazing out of all this garbage we've got some positives. A new ship's a pretty good thing. Another escape route if the worst happens. Almost as good as a new friend. You know, Arclight-they... They did that Decepticon submission thing -the one you showed me, you know, after you, uhh... earned your nickname- they did that for- for me. I was just baffled. I can only hope they can think of me as a friend after...:. _

Sticks grew silent, trying to push down thoughts of what they'd had to do. They drew Forceps closer and slid their servo down their back to stroke against the plating in between the bases their sawlets, just where they'd liked. They focused intently on the barely- twitching tips of their fingers. They didn't, they  _ couldn't _ summon any of the strength it took to pull on the pry bars. This action was good, it was safe. They could do this for Forceps. In a rare gesture, they began to purr. It was loud and deep, much too loud for their frame and much too deep for their size to not be embarrassed about. But the rumble through their chassis was a lovely feeling, one they intended to train themself back into enjoying. 

As Sticks relaxed again, they pressed more firmly against Forceps's back. A very slight smile curled over their lips. Their optics opened a crack, sad but soft. They planted a gentle kiss on the top of their helm,  _.:Of course I want to go off-ship with you. You want to make a date out of it? Maybe... an important date?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/25/2019**

"I'm not upset, I just like them to be smooth," Reaver explained quietly, leaning down a bit, too focused on what he was doing to care about much of anything else. "Hm. A few scars here. Nothing too bad... some of these might not even have gone through plating. Looks like they've been shot at. You know, like that's a shock to see on a medic. Or... on anyone, at this point, I'd wager we've all been shot at. Hm- do you know what their alt is? It might be best to have them in alt for the details, that way everything will be coherent when they transform." 

.

_.:I've... seen that in a few patients,:. _ Forceps contemplated, stroking down Sticks' back to get into the seams,  _.:and unless they're too high to know what they're doing, I tend to interpret it as a positive. It is about trust and willing submission, after all. You don't get that pose out of someone who isn't willing, not without serious convincing:. _

The purr caught them a bit off guard and they twitched softly, but relaxed again, the plating on their back fluffing up to let Sticks' fingers under.  _.:I don't know about friendship. It's possible. At the very least, they probably like you to some extent. You... might have a new puppy now, if they behave towards you like I vaguely suspect they might:. _

Snuggling down, Forceps ex-vented long and slow and started to almost purr, a trick they'd figured out with their vents to get a similar sound. It didn't feel right, returning Sticks' affection, words, and purrs with only silence.  _.:I haven't had many opportunities for dates. I would welcome that. What... do you mean by important? Something... public?:. _

What was this going to be? Sticks clearly wanted something, but Forceps had never... never really done any kind of  _ relationship _ . A few unofficial things with other medics, briefly, but mostly they'd kept to the occasional few nights together.(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **01/25/2019**

"Hmm, small blessings," Salvo said. He paused to give some thought to the idea of Red in the field. That was a past Salvo knew nothing about. Red seemed at least somewhat fond of the idea of being a medic even after their stay on the torture vessel. He sighed and pet their face with his thumb. "You must have  _ some _ good memories, Red," he mumbled, making mental note to ask them about it when they woke up, or to figure out how to ask them. He spoke up a bit to address Reaver, "Wheels. They got em. That's about all I know, they haven't transformed in front of me. Maybe cause they don't feel like it or..." he leaned over and looked right at Reaver, "maybe their alt isn't good for inside? Hmm? I mean-not that I make a point to transform inside when I can just because I'm not gonna wreck things."

.

A new puppy... Sticks smiled dubiously, Arclight was so  _ big, _ it'd be... strange for them if he acted like that. It was already strange to experience someone so much bigger bowing their helm to them. They finished their cube and quickly subspaced the leftovers so they could work at Forceps's back with both servos, slowly but persistently pushing their fingers under the plates.  _.:Not too many dates, huh? Not a whole lot to do compared to before the war. We'd have to find a mechanical-friendly planet if we wanted to do anything particularly urban. And, it'd all be public. But I was thinking... It'd probably be a couple weeks or so until we find another planet which- which means:. _ They reached to retrieve Forceps's servo from their back and gently slid it onto their chassis,  _.:Do you remember what I said? Back before I fell asleep for three days. A redo. Some place high up where we can see the sunset, a nice secluded spot. It... it was a little sappy at the time -and it still is- but I... I did mean it:. _

Sticks sighed,  _.:Of course it's up to you. The entire point is to make things as low-pressure as possible:. _ They returned their servo to their massage. Something had been on their mind ever since they woke up, and this day just made it all the more clear. They paused  _.:Songbird, how long is this gonna last? Us, I mean:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/25/2019**

"In medics, you primarily see either transportation-based alts or speed-based ones," Focus noted, slinking a bit closer, casually propping a servo on Reaver's shoulder for support as he leaned down. "This one... I'm not sure. They hardly look to be built for speed, but they're a bit on the small side for transportation. Must have a trailer hitch somewhere, I'd think," he commented, prodding lightly at one of Red's wheels. "Assuming they didn't tear it out like they did their badges and optics." 

A casual statement, matter-of-fact in tone. He wasn't about to get mushy about a stranger. Couldn't go around applying one's sympathies to anyone and everyone, that would get you killed and/or drive you insane far too quick. Still. Nasty. What made a bot do  _ that _ ? Dear Primus. 

Red snuffled lightly and nuzzled into Salvo's servos, chirping, seeming unaware of everything else. They were calm, quiet, almost completely still- at least until Reaver moved away for a moment to clean the brushes. When that presence vanished, their brows furrowed and they shifted a few times, then  _ whimpered _ , oh-so-soft, a noise that had Reaver back up against them in an instant with a mutter of "oh dear, never mind". It worked, Red settled, but- still! Primus. Poor bot. 

.

_.:We don't need a populated planet, or even a planet. A sufficiently large moon without any significant hazards will work. Provided we scan it thoroughly for large or otherwise threatening organic life- partly because Five-Alarm won't go anywhere near an un-populated... anything. Understandable, given what happened to him. A sapient population can be a threat to us, but does serve as a reasonable indicator of threats. The easiest ones to deal with are species too young to yet have developed space travel, they don't know about us and don't know that they... should reasonably be afraid. Then we only have potential size differences to contend with. Downside is, species not yet introduced to the galaxy don't have language codecs we can access. It... makes communication more difficult.:. _

As for the rest... oh. All right. They could do a sappy gesture, that- that was a bit sweet, definitely workable with- 

Shit. Fuck. Primus, how did they answer that? Forceps' petting stilled, and they didn't respond for several long moments. Not least because they genuinely couldn't. 

Ah, Pit, they were going to scare Sticks not answering, weren't they? That was going to be interpreted as a refusal. Making a thoroughly familiar "fuck my word issues" face at Sticks, they brought their servos up and signed "don't know" at them, wanting the time to think. 

And they turned out to not have anything like a better explanation. Sighing, they very deliberately shrugged, signed "not enough experience to tell", then a pause, a sigh, "don't know how to learn", and they went back to massaging, trying to keep Sticks from getting into an anxiety spiral. What kind of question was that? How were they supposed to answer it?

##  **Malusdraco** **01/25/2019**

Salvo turned to look at Focus, his mouth a thin, disappointed line, "They're  _ right here _ for fuck's sake. For someone who's probably at least as old as the war you'd think you'd learn some manners." He shook his head and returned to painting Red's helm, "I doubt that happened anyway, if they did have a hitch. We'll just ask them when they wake up what their alt is and if they'd like us to do the details then. Seems like a pretty straightforward plan."

He continued to stroke their cheek as he painted. It hadn't been long enough for him to quite figure out how to tell when Red woke up if they weren't screaming. He frowned slightly, that would be bad if it happened here, especially with Mr. Insensitive sitting there. He decided he'd hum one of the songs Red knew. It wasn't a particularly happy song but it was a pretty one. At least with a servo on their face he might be able to tell if they were about to freak out.

.

Sticks had known the question was going to be difficult when they asked it. If Forceps had given a definite answer they would have been much more worried. They pulled back a bit to give them a slight smile  _.:That's... that's okay. I don't think I quite know either. What I know is you make me very happy. I feel... safe around you:. _ They sighed and pulled Forceps closer, this was not an easy conversation they'd been thinking about.  _.:I don't... know how to even start this. I think... I just wanted to know cause I've been thinking we'll last... forever yanno, or... as long as I have left:. _ There it was, they couldn't stop there, though,  _.:Maybe this is a... stupid conversation to have because maybe you don't think of this -us- the same way, but I figure I don't have... that much longer left. A couple thousand years i figure, maybe- not forever:. _

Sticks sighed again and resumed massaging in earnest, anything to soften what they were saying. Part of them was baffled they were even saying this. Part of them recognized it for the anxious self-sabotage it actually was, yet they continued, they needed to say it,  _.:I know I'm fragile. I keep being reminded of it. Any one of the many things that'd been done to Arclight probably would have killed me outright. This is me being reasonable. You are going to outlive me. I want you to know that if-if you want to break up or bail before we get past the point of no return, I won't judge you. You don't have to know right away. Primus, I don't know either, but I love you more than anything, and I don't want you to be in pain, especially not because of me:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/25/2019**

Focus, for his part, looked genuinely bewildered. "It was an  _ observation _ . Some of those more striking injuries are clearly self-inflicted. Depending on what aspects they were trying to remove, it's possible they also removed any blatant indicators of alt mode. Given that we're trying to figure out their alt, that is relevant. And how am I being rude to someone who  _ can't hear me _ ?" he demanded, wings hitching up, gesturing at Red and their lack of any body language other than occasional twitches. 

"Quieter, please," Reaver hummed, glancing up from where he was now painting some of the plates along Red's aft. Quite casually, too. This was an  _ entirely _ different context than any other sort of aft-touching. "Oh, stab mark here, also. Someone's aim with their dagger was lacking. Stabbing someone in the aft is an inconvenience and an opportunity for their friends to playfully mock them later, it's hardly disabling. Now... they don't seem to be awake. Are they? At the risk of being insensitive... on this one, how can you tell?" 

Red was  _ not _ awake, though, honestly, they would probably have agreed with Focus' reasoning. As it was, they were still lying with their face in Salvo's servos, showing no signs of alarm now that Reaver's presence was back. They still twitched now and then, but their face had relaxed, and their vents were calm and even. 

.

Focus snorted heavily, as if to dismiss the thoughts, and (lightly) pinched Sticks' audial fin. Oh, that they could answer, and none of it was going to be all sappy. Mostly just pissed.  _.:No. I'm not going to leave because you might die before I do. First- there is nothing stopping your spark from healing fully, we are a highly resilient species. Second, yes, that would have killed you. It would also have killed me. Neither of us are point-one-percenters. Third- you do understand that both of us are going to die, yes? And nothing guarantees it will be you. I make a habit of insulting injured, potentially angry bots to their faces. I cannot move faster than a run, as my alt is immobile, and I am not terribly durable. Someone with a certain degree of durability could wring my neck if they managed to grab me. We are both going to die, probably not at the same time, so one of us is going to die before the other. Hardly a reason not to take advantage of whatever time we do have. Stop with the despair before I have to call Notepad and interrupt my attempts at massaging you into relaxation,:. _ they scolded, one servo playing along Sticks' back, then aimed a slightly suspicious look at them.  _.:And we aren't passing any 'point of no return' any time soon:. _

January 26, 2019

 

##  **Malusdraco** **01/26/2019**

Salvo turned back to look at Focus again, looking more peeved than anything else. He knew better than to argue with someone whose first instinct was to point out something like that. He spoke evenly, as if he'd had this conversation multiple times, "My problem is that you see someone has egregious self-inflicted wounds and think it's alright to just point it out. You don't know  _ what _ could have happened for it to get bad enough for someone to choose to do that. You don't know whether or not they might be sensitive about it, especially given the fact they wear a  _ blindfold. _ And on top of that you don't know what they can and can't hear," His voice caught a bit of an edge, "That was bordering on acceptable. I'll warn you once, you purposefully prod anyone under my care to the point of  _ discomfort _ and you'll answer to me."

Salvo found his pauldrons raised slightly in prickly anger and quickly lowered them, "They're asleep. I'm hoping we'll find out they're awake well after they wake up. The alternative is... bad. I'll keep a close read on them, for sure."

.

Sticks leaned back, tiredly searching Forceps's optics for something... some sort of gotcha, a hint of a lie, but found none. They still weren't entirely convinced, themself. Maybe they would live a long and happy life but they couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling they'd need to plan for the inevitable. Too many years spent living on a ticking timer. But Forceps was making sense, as always. They pulled in until their lips met their partner's and held the kiss for a long time,  _.:Okay, then. I'll... stop worrying- or I'll try. It's really hard once you start you see. We'll... take it one step as we go, then. And keep it in the back of our minds we still have the capacity to fully loathe each other. As difficult as that would be for me:. _

When Sticks finally pulled back, they had a tired smile on their face, "You know I'm still gonna take you out on a proper date, regardless of whether you wanna do the spark stuff or not. You need to have fun and so do I." They hugged Forceps once again and busied themself with their massage,  _.:Course our options are limited given nobody's gonna accept our currency and I don't have any money anyway. And... please don't get throttled by a patient, that'd leave me in an awkward scenario:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/26/2019**

Focus twitched his wings, huffed, and glanced away slightly, muttering "fine" under his breath. 

"That's the closest you're going to get to an admission of you being right," Reaver whispered to Salvo, finishing up the last details of Red's aft plating, then shifted their frame just a bit to better get at their hip and outer thigh. "He's prone to snippiness. Some of it is self-defensive in nature, some of it is... probably based on his upbringing. A lot of bots who were somewhere adjacent to nobility, in appearance or in genetics, took every chance they could get to mimic it in desperate hope of being kept safe by status. Which includes a certain level of snobbishness." 

"Desperate- please," Focus huffed, retreating from Reaver, and briefly contemplated knocking a few things over before sitting down again. "Now who's being rude?" 

.

Forceps gladly returned the kiss, stroking their audials nice and gently, and slumped happily into the arms of their partner. Well. Mostly happy.  _.:You have, I am quite sure, an anxiety disorder. I'm hardly expecting it to go away any time soon. Just... try to be aware of it. As for a proper date, you could trade on the ship for resources, or we DO have a pool of funds for shipwide use. Some species will pay very well if we deliver them entire asteroids. And I'm hardly going to object to:. _ a pause, gesturing in the general direction of Sticks' chassis,  _.:whatever sort of trust gesture that is. No objections on my part:. _

Forceps didn't really know what a 'proper' date was. People went drinking sometimes, they knew that much. And, what- picnics? That might be enjoyable. 

Maybe they should try to figure out some kind of date to take Sticks on. Sticks would probably appreciate that. 

Blackspark probably knew about proper dates.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/26/2019**

"Kept safe, huh," Salvo mumbled. He frowned. He didn't like that wording. There was something ominous about it -safe from what? From war? From getting your face pushed in for saying something stupid? From... empurata? He didn't know, "I wonder what someone like you would need to be kept safe from." His tone was soft, concerned, nonjudgmental. It wasn't a question, but an opening, should Focus want to take it. 

He knew how to spot a bot who absolutely couldn't defend himself and Focus was not amongst those. He was too big, too strong-willed to evoke that image -unless he had some sort of easily-exploitable weakness that the defensiveness and snobbishness helped to cover up. He wasn't quite smart enough to pick apart what.

"Regardless, I hope it's gone now, " Salvo said. It was a genuine sentiment. He was getting close to finishing with Red's helm and smiled a little devilishly-not to get too sappy, "then maybe someday you'll be convinced to work on your personality."

.

_.:I-:. _ Sticks had no rebuttal. Yeah, they probably did have anxiety issues all things considered. It'd helped when futureproofing was actually useful-when things were dire enough that their anxious visions were quite often validated. But now, their requests for places to store extra limbs were met with a level of inquisitive distaste and their research into bug collection and harvest considered unnecessary. Primus, they probably came off as mad.  _.:Do I really- I should stop asking that question. If it's being pointed out the answer is yes, I do seem high-strung. Fuck. I remember when I used to be the cool one-not that anyone'd believe me now. I'll... I don't know what I'll do. I'll talk to Notepad about it, I guess:. _

Sticks sighed and brought a servo up to pet the back of Forceps's helm *.:The problem with being out of the war, now is that all the things I used to do in Iacon are all too far away and probably entirely gone. Gambling, karaoke parlors, going to the theater, going to a  _ sports _ game- all gone. Though... you don't seem the type to want to do those things anyway, so good riddance I guess. If we find a decently populated planet we might be able to find a nice museum- might like that, hmm?:.* Sticks canted their helm and smiled slightly as they met Forceps's optics,  _.:Course we'd probably be too big to fit in most of the buildings unless we used holoforms which... that's tricky:. _

Their smile faded slightly as they looked into Forceps's face,  _.:How are you feeling now, babe? I don't want to keep you from your cathartic destruction if you still want to do that:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/26/2019**

Focus, in one of his several distraction-mode tricks, pulled a relatively fine-gritted file from subspace and set about sharpening his claws further. They were already smooth and sharp, but he could put an even finer point on them, plus it gave something to do other than fidget and/or stare at the bot raising unpleasant subjects. "Well, considering all of Cybertronian so-called Golden Age society is gone, and possibly still on fire in a few areas, I'd say it's quite dead. Good riddance." 

Hm. How much did he want to explain himself, and how vulnerable did he want to make himself seen? Focus contemplated Salvo for a moment, picking up on the concern, and only flicked his wings in vague annoyance at the jab. Sighing, he ducked his helm slightly and brought one servo up, shifting his entire frame and visibly stretching his shoulder past what was completely comfortable, to pull a cable free from behind its hatch just below the scruff of his neck. It was a much longer cable than most- coming out far enough that he could have extended it the full length of his arm, and slightly past that. "I have several of these. My visible light spectrum is far wider than that of anyone I've ever met, including the infrared spectrum, and some cruel twist of genetic fate decided that I ought to be able to share that with anyone who demanded it. Being a bot with a physical trait usable by others has always been... perilous."

"And for what it's worth, I was  _ right _ , I was immediately drafted when it was required without my say in the matter. I'd expect an MTO of all people to fully comprehend the desire to make oneself less of a target to someone who would use your frame for its so-called intended purpose with no consideration for you," Focus nearly growled, voice low and irritated, optics practically blazing. "That, and too many bots who have some type or another of fetish related to nobility and/or Seekers. I lack the frametype to cover myself in spines like Blackspark, so... before the war, I did my best to approximate nobility , for the safety granted by that perceived status. During, I did my best to cover myself in metaphorical spines. And I find myself not terribly inclined to make myself all that easily approachable yet. Possibly ever. Now, do I need to continue to defend my abrasiveness, or have I given you an answer you can accept?" 

"That, and I do really think you're... a bit of a dick anyway," Reaver muttered, albeit very softly and without any heat. "I cannot verbally express how glad I am to have grown up isolated from... almost every aspect of Cybertronian society. We may all have been too flustered to clearly convey to each other that kink even  _ existed _ , but at least we didn't do... any of  _ that _ ." 

.

_.:Everyone has... something, after the war. Don't ever startle Scalpel, her holdover defenses are destructive. You're far from the only one with some form of anxiety, but, yes. You should be talking to Notepad. Probably we all should, but given that we only have one therapist and they are incapable of time travel... at least talk to them once and try to get some suggestions. And, no, I have... absolutely no interest in sports. I'm sure there are sports somewhere on Cybertron by now, but we're a bit far from it to go back to the one rebuilding city for a date. I would enjoy a museum. And some of the species that are less cautious about us are some of the larger ones. You, at least, could fit into a reasonable number of buildings:. _

Forceps kneaded a bit at Sticks' frame for comfort, then sighed, vents flickering in a near-soundless chuckle.  _.:The area we have for cathartic destruction is currently occupied by Scalpel. I don't entirely want to get near her right now, she is... furious. Scalpel, in case you hadn't noticed, likely has some rage issues. It's best to give her plenty of space when she's this angry. Nor do I... particularly feel a need to get near her. I find myself tired and:. _ a quick pinch to their audial  _.:somewhat fondly annoyed right now, more than anything. I can destroy things later:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/26/2019**

Salvo sat for a while and just listened. He'd put a pause on the painting and turned to face Focus as he talked. Even after the mech stopped, he took a while to respond. It was more information and more honesty than he'd expected. So he'd been right about the exploitable trait. After a few moments he returned his gaze to his work, moving to gently dip the brush in paint before continuing with Red's helm. He hummed something low and empathetic, "I know your fear better than most. I can't... exit my altmode without permission of the person who's using me- as if live rounds in my chassis wasn't anxiety-inducing enough. Though I suppose it's almost worse being naturally born exploitable, at least  _ I _ have someone I can curse," he let out a wry chuckle that quickly turned into an awkward cough, "I suppose we have two different ways of solving the problem. You could either push people away until nobody is left to touch you, or you could surround yourself with people so that if someone tries something, hopefully one of them will stand up for you."

Salvo shifted a little bit to get at the last little front-facing bits of Red's helm, "My method has gotten me in danger, as I suspect yours has as well. But mine has also saved me. You're still standing here, able to talk about your problems and still looking fine, so clearly your method has worked for you too. Therefore who am I to say your choice was wrong." He sighed, "So, you do you, I guess. And... thank you for sharing."

With one final stroke, Salvo at last seemed done. He bent over and turned Red's head slightly in either direction to make sure he'd gotten everything before he sat up again and set the brush down in the paint pot.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/26/2019**

_.:Scalpel has anger issues, I have anxiety issues, wouldn't it be nice if we could trade. At least anger feels a little more powerful. I'd prefer being angry over always thinking about how things could go wrong. Primus, always:. _ Sticks pushed their face into Forceps's neck and reached around again to bury their servos in their back plates  _.:Annoyed, even when I'm rubbing you in just the right place? Clearly I'm doing something wrong. You... tired anywhere specific? I think taking care of you in the most selfish way possible is... just what the doctor ordered:. _

This was just what Sticks had needed. Alone they would have festered, they realized. They still didn't know if they were entirely okay- it felt like there was still something weighing on their shoulders. They didn't think the weight would go away without a conclusive level of closure. Forceps presented a way to care for someone without anxiety, without looming catastrophe. Their field blossomed something warm and entirely grateful as they kissed them sweetly on the neck.  _.:Museum would be ideal, then. I'll do some scouting around the next planet we land on. Otherwise we may just end up walking around, which... isn't a bad idea but it's awfully boring:. _

January 27, 2019

##  **Betta132** **01/27/2019**

"Oh,  _ lovely _ ," Focus muttered, and pinged Salvo his COMM code. "Do let me know if someone decides to take advantage of that. If I'm in range, I can come and do something unpleasant to their entire face. And if you still want to find some sort of firing range, I promise not to act like a sadist. No promises on not acting like a dick," he muttered, going back to sharpening his claws. "And I don't exactly have the 'making friends' personality." 

Reaver leaned up slightly to inspect Salvo's work, then offered him an approving smile, shifting Red slightly further. "There you are- that's good. I'm going to see how much of their legs I can get finished. They're quite firmly out, aren't they? It's rather sweet. Have they been sleeping well, do you think? If not... warm blankets and someone to hold them ought to help." 

.

_.:Well, you can go and try to break things. I'm sure she could point you towards something a bit less durable that you would be able to satisfyingly break. I find it thoroughly gratifying to find something I can kick to pieces. Aaand if you keep... rubbing in that... right there, you'll have me. Mm. Okay,:. _ Forceps declared, slumping limp, and purred to Sticks. Actually  _ purred _ , voice trilling, for a klik or two before they realized and got startled. Oh! Primus! That was an actual... voice thing. Wow. Again with the making them make  _ noises _ . Blushing a fraction, they hid their face in Sticks' throat, field thrumming a thoroughly flustered version of Sticks' affection. Primus. Emotions. Thoroughly rude emotions. Getting all over everything.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/27/2019**

Salvo was not caught offguard this time and declined the ping, "I appreciate the offer more than I can express fully but I don't use comms. Looking to set up some kind of alternate communicator system at some point because it's becoming a hassle. I'll let you know then and I'll offer the same. You get some kinda hassler just holler for me and they'll get a faceful of gunbarrel and maybe an exploded head if they're particularly nasty," a cheeky grin spread across his face, "another success it seems, for both of us."

His other servo free, finally, Salvo busied himself now with slowly petting Red's face, scratching slightly under their chin, "They've been getting better sleep now. It was... rough at first. We've been sleeping together-not... yanno, but the same berth. Another frame definitely seems to help them. They're very cuddly, too, so it's a win all around."

.

_.:Mmm that's better:. _ Sticks closed their optics and thoroughly invested themself in the feeling of Forceps under their fingertips  _.:At the risk of being thrown out, you're cute, Songbird- and I mean absolutely fucking adorable:. _ Their purring got louder, more rumbly,  _.:But you're also sharp as a dagger, and competent too:. _ They hummed just a little bit as their fingers pressed deeper.  _.:And you've got a great spike. But I especially love the way you melt when I touch your ser-:. _

"Ooh," Sticks mumble. Their frame quivered a bit in discomfort as they paused what they were doing. They frowned and pulled their servos away to carefully flex them the way they'd been shown in therapy.   _.:Think today was a little too much grabbing for me:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/27/2019**

"Noted," Focus hummed, and proceeded to sit extremely crooked in the chair, one leg slung over the arm. It looked a bit odd, but evidently it was comfortable, because he set to filing his claws. 

"That is terribly sweet," Reaver muttered, shifting their frame a bit to paint more cleanly, an action which got absolutely no response. "Most people with some form of trauma benefit from someone to recharge next to. Something about the awareness of someone who isn't afraid seems to be a good reassurance that there's no need to be afraid. Hard to mimic with anything else. Pets can help, occasionally, but are too small for a good squeeze. If you ever can't be around and they need someone to hold, let me know- I will happily oblige." 

.

Ooh. Forceps liked this. Being called adorable was, pfh, that- that caused some emotions, and then on top of that was the sort of praise they  _ liked _ . Sticks' discomfort got their attention, though, and they shifted back to steal one of the offending servos. Frowning slightly, they rubbed slowly and firmly against Sticks' palm for a moment, then up and along each digit to help loosen the cables.  _.:Don't injure yourself on my behalf! Let me see what I can do:. _ they sighed, and set to work, trying to see if they could loosen anything or ease the discomfort. Gentle, gentle. At least they didn't have to worry about accidentally turning Sticks on- didn't have the sensors for that, not yet. Almost a shame, though.  _.:Remind me to do this again when we upgrade your sensor suite. I could probably make you cum just doing this:. _

##  **Malusdraco** **01/27/2019**

"Of course. I'll come find you," Salvo said through a bittersweet smile, "And I know.  A certain friend of mine who will remain nameless had the same problem- has, still, I think. Always worried about imposing or fucking up our recharge schedules- which is ridiculous since they're the lightest sleeper of all of us. No matter how many times you say it's okay any time they still gotta ask. High strung little twerp." 

Salvo let out a slow ex-vent and shifted one servo a little farther back, letting the tips of his fingers gently scratch at the back of Red's neck. He tilted their helm just a bit to get a look at the healing scar under their audial, "It's amazing the bonds you can make with the people who rely on you. When you see them at their absolute worst, when you pull them out of that with your own servo... the only thing you want is to see them flourish. And when they do, it's brilliant," he cleared his throat, he was getting a bit too sappy, "I'd recommend it. Another point in favor of making friends. Say, you think their arms are dry now?"

.

_.:Hence, why I stopped when I felt them hurt:. _ Sticks brought their other servo up in front of them and tried to stretch it on their own.  _.:Not as bad as I used to be about pushing myself for nothing:. _ They shifted a bit to curl further into Forceps and watch what they were doing. Some disgusting holdover from their past pushed just the slightest bit on their fuel tank the longer they watched so they averted their gaze to watch Forceps's face instead. They could feel the muscle cables in their servo slowly begin to loosen and took a deep in-vent. 

At last a little bit freed from their pain Sticks grinned *.:I wanna believe you can. I mean, everyone keeps warning me to watch out for my servos now so I don't pass out from the pain of some kinda minute thing, but at least there are  _ some _ benefits. If I end up how you end up after some servo attention I can only imagine just how good it gets:.* They continued to watch Forceps's face, the way the light caught their angular cheek. They couldn't help but draw the side of their finger down the ridge humming a low note.  _.:And you're pretty too. Angles:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/27/2019**

"Bracer could help, also. He sleeps almost dangerously soundly, I would honestly not be shocked if he slept through someone shooting at us. He is... a bit intimidatingly large, though. How good he is as a sleeping buddy depends on if someone would like to recharge in his cockpit. I can recommend him, though- he is a sweet one," Reaver hummed, and tested the very edge of a plate with one fingertip to see if the paint was dry. "You should be able to pet here. I'd say... I'm going to work my way around their legs, and, if they're still sleeping once this is dry, we can flip them over," he decided, then paused, brow furrowing slightly. "Is there... hm. Do I need to avoid their inner thighs at all, or do you think that would be all right while they're still asleep?" he asked, petting the nearest un-painted area. Which happened to be Red's lower leg, but, oh well. 

.

Forceps' cheeks heated a bit and they glanced away, then ducked their helm and smiled a fraction, shifting just a bit to push their face into Sticks' servos. Oh. That was. Heh. They weren't used to the praise, still weren't, and didn't know how to respond properly. Or how to return it, not when they felt their processor very firmly not wanting to formulate words at the praise. Therefore, they snuggled down into Sticks, releasing that servo to switch to the other.  _.:You do need to remember not to punch anything. And we're going to need to coat your sensors in a layer of sealant after installation to dull the sensory input, but... I suspect you'll enjoy the sensors to some degree. Tell me about how you've been doing with your new servos, Sticks- what do you like? Any complaints?:. _

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **01/27/2019**

"Bracer seems like a genuine kinda mech. I'd trust him with them," Salvo nodded slowly, "Thighs... I don't know, don't  _ think- _ I mean look, they've told me about a lot but nothing that makes me think you'd need to be especially careful there. Then again... I know how easy it is for people to keep secrets... It also needs to get done and they're definitely asleep and I've got my servo right on their face so how about I keep a close read on em and you go slow?"

Salvo gently tapped Red's forearm to check that it was dry and gently lay one servo on top. He shifted his other to once again cradle their cheek. "They're so firmly out I don't think it'll be an issue, might even be better than trying to do it while they're awake," He looked up into Reaver's face, then looked at Focus, "Are you aware of what you absolutely do not say in front of them? Probably shoulda asked earlier but we've gotten lucky that the conversation hasn't strayed there. Lookin at you, Focus, since Reaver seems to know at least  _ something _ about them."

.

Sticks smiled, their optics glowing warmly as they felt Forceps's blush under their fingertips. They'd never get tired of making them flustered, and compliments seemed to do the job quite nicely.  _.:Like I normally enjoy punching things anyway. Things are in working order here, usually, I don't need to physically encourage anything anymore:. _ They again brought their free servo up to Forceps's face for a moment oh-so-gently stroking their cheek before sliding it down under their chin, in the safe resting place next to their neck.  _.:I like that I can feel it when you blush. And I like that you don't look so sad when you see my servos anymore. I'm not getting nearly as much of that weird disconnect as before, which is good. Getting tired of seeing myself as broken and i think my processor is too:. _

They sighed and traced a finger along Forceps's jaw with a controlled grimace.  _.:Of course now that they're whole it's... not hard to imagine them being destroyed again. Makes watching people handle them a little nerve-wracking. And I'm finding myself particularly missing my extra fingers now that I have access to a computer again:. _ They tried to lighten the mood again  _.:You know how difficult it is trying to type with only 10 fingers? Everything goes so much slower I've been thinking I should make a shorthand codex so I don't spend time typing full words:. _ They sighed and rubbed their fingers together on their free servo.  _.:I've got this idea to make a sensory mask for when I get my upgrades. It's not something I've done before, but I've hacked my own processor a fair few times now and know... the general pathways for somatic sensors. Shouldn't be too hard to put together, right?:. _ Nothing to be said for what could go wrong, however. Sticks had their doubts about the idea, even saying it aloud. There was definitely a reason why medics simply got used to their ridiculous sensor density.

##  **Betta132** **01/27/2019**

"I saw the broadcast," Focus shrugged, one wing flicking in an over-casual manner, and inspected his clawtip for a moment before moving to the next. "I'm insensitive, not  _ sadistic _ . I do hope no one with that as a name winds up on this ship, though, that's the unfortunate thing about one-word triggers. And I have met  _ two _ medics with that name. At least the chance of someone with that name still being alive is unlikely. The scant benefits of war, I suppose." 

Reaver started off a bit slowly, focused, and pulled back when Red moved- but it was just a little twitch, ankle and pede, and didn't get stronger when Reaver started again. A few moments of careful consideration and his nervously lifted wings lowered in a gesture of comfort, the big flier purring slightly to them both. "Ah. They might be ticklish. That is  _ cute _ . Such a sweet little bot... poor dear. Thoroughly glad to have personally helped to find and destroy the culprit, sweet one," he purred, low and deep in his throat, looking at Red more than anywhere else. 

.

_.:I- no!:. _ Forceps scolded gently, pinching an area on Sticks' forearm,  _.:you will not be hacking yourself! Or getting anyone to hack you. Unless you want to risk permanent numbness from your frame not understanding that you have fingers. If the lack of dexterity bothers you... we could see about getting you some integrated tools or manipulators. Those could potentially be very useful. Extra fingers... potentially helpful. I wouldn't know, I've never tried. You've seen my tools, you could ask the other medics to show you theirs. Does anything among those interest you? They would be... difficult to construct, but possible, and useful. Though you are a bit lacking in room:. _ they pointed out, lightly massaging around the bases of Sticks' fingers.  _.:Small size will serve you well in some things, but it does mean there's a limit to how many tools you can fit here:. _

Blushing a bit more firmly at their own actions, they brought Sticks' servo up to kiss, each fingertip and then along his knuckles. Affection was good. A few kisses more, then they nuzzled into Sticks' palm, snuggling up close to massage at their sides.  _.:So warm. Such a sweet little mech. So good. Tell me what I can do for you?:. _ they purred, then tensed and blushed slightly, having realized that they had. Well. Failed to confine that to their thoughts.

January 28, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/28/2019**

"Broadcast? Well- right-  _ good, _ " Salvo said, a bit taken aback, "I didn't expect you to use em, just wanted to make sure you knew cause I'm pretty sure it'd make Red wake up in a bad way. Don't know  _ what _ I'd do if someone came aboard with that as a name. S'my job to protect them, you know?"

Salvo sat upright at Reaver's comment and leaned forward, "I tell you what, I was jealous of you before for having wings but now I know you got to help take that fucker out- I'm even more jealous," He felt his frame tense as a very familiar anger bubbled up inside his chassis, " _ Ooh _ what I would have done to that lowlife. There'd be  _ nothing _ left of him, that's for damn sure." It was a few kliks of feeling his anger build until he remembered there was a sleeping, especially-vulnerable bot in his lap. Not that they hadn't been exposed to Salvo's reaction to even the idea of payback. He guiltily withdrew his servo from their arm and focused on clenching and unclenching it. He watched Red's face intently, knowing he wasn't about to blow up in front of them, regardless of whether or not they were asleep. Nobody would hurt Red again, least of all him. He'd make sure.

A few moments of deep breaths and Salvo spoke again, his voice low but even, "I want to be on the next revenge mission, where do I sign up?"

.

_.:I- I want...:. _ Sticks couldn't quite continue with their thought as a massive smile took over their face and their field flooded with bright affection. They buried their helm in Forceps's neck with a quiet trill. "You can stay right where you are," they murmured into the space between Forceps and the pillow underneath them, "just stay here, with me." They genuinely meant they needed the other's company. But there was something desperate about the words they didn't quite realize. 

Forceps's face was hot under Sticks's servo as they tweaked their helm so they could gently kiss their neck.  _.:Though I guess I should be saying, 'let me stay here with you.' This is your room after all. Feels like you. It's why I went here instead of my own:. _ They shifted back a little bit and smiled, curling their fingers in a bit,  _.:It feels good, you know. Though I'm sure you would have had me an absolute mess by now if I had more sensors:. _ They went in for another kiss on their partner's neck, a bit hungrier this time  _.:What I was going to say was I've been thinking about what I want and I've come up with two things: A blowtorch or tiny welder, and an impossibly tiny grabber, maybe a scalpel too. I figure I can manage other necessary things by keeping them in subspace, but I keep needing those:. _ They paused and considered for a moment before continuing,  _.:And you may be surprised to know I'm actually a professional at hacking myself. I just haven't taken a go at fully diverting my own sensory input:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/28/2019**

Red twitched and shifted a little, but didn't otherwise respond, evidently unaware of most of the situation. That, or somehow comforted by it, there was no easy way to tell. Either way, they were sleeping. 

"Oh, he's quite dead now," Reaver assured, and stroked Red's flank for something to do that might be relaxing. "He's very, very firmly dead. We made sure of it, brought Red enough to identify, and Blackspark kept a few recognizable parts in case we need proof of death for anyone else. Poured acid over the rest of him, then detonated his entire ship. You can't  _ clean _ a ship like that, the despair clings to everything. And Duo are frighteningly good with explosives when you give them a good reason. Less a revenge mission and more of a... 'make sure they can never touch anyone again' mission. As for signing up, you are a  _ gun _ . If the opportunity arises, we will absolutely be inviting you," he noted, painting long stripes down Red's thigh in even patterns. 

.

_.:Noted. Should be simple enough. And you are not a professional unless someone pays you, which no one is going to be paying you to do. You:. _ another light pinch to a bit of plating by way of a scold  _.:need to stop that! No hacking yourself. If you need coding changed, you are going to consult someone with actual education on the subject:. _ they scolded gently, and worked their way up to stroke and squeeze at Sticks' palm. Good, deep-pressure sensations.  _.:Where do you think you'd like the tools to be?:. _

Primus. Sticks was giving them emotions they didn't know how to deal with. Kept doing that. Fuck it. Anything else that gave them such weird emotions, they'd be running away from, but Sticks was like a  _ magnet _ . One they had no desire to try and escape. Felt a bit like someone picking them up by their scruff, but... for once, in a way they would have liked.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/28/2019**

"Well practical revenge is still revenge," Salvo said matter-of-factly, "Anyone who says revenge is pointless doesn't know what they're talking about. S'good he's dead now, not able to hurt anyone else at least. Can't believe I missed that chance, though. I wasn't made to be stationary- wasn't made for peace. Get too antsy not being able to do anything. It's... actually the reason Notepad paired me and Red up." He sighed, relieved that he hadn't woken up Red or otherwise upset them, "It's been working out alright too. They need me and I need them too, to an extent. But I think we're both kind of in a tough spot. We both need something to  _ do. _ It's no good neither of us can really do what we were built for anymore, either. I mean it's more Red's problem than mine- at least I can see. But... opportunities to actually  _ use _ my combat-coding... I don't get the impression you go on revenge missions often."

Salvo grinned a little bit, "I've actually been looking into textiles -weaving and knitting and stuff. Figure its tactile enough so Red'd be able to contribute too. Keep us both outta trouble."

.

Sticks's plating fluffed at the pressure and their wheels spun a little in contentment.  _.:I think I'd like them to kinda... hmm:. _ They examined their free servo, back and front.  _.:Transforming out of my fingers would be too... too freaky to look at. Maybe...:. _ They turned their palm up.  _.:My old servos were built with these compartments in the palms, stored all my extra digits when not in use. I could open my servo up and they'd extend outward till they kinda clicked between my fingers. Something like that might be nice, though:. _ They brought their servo closer to their face and squinted a bit to get a better look at the architecture of their palm.  _.:They'd probably have to be modified quite a bit in order to fit new things and:. _ They sighed.  _.:I don't know if I'm ready to think too hard about the anatomy of my servos. I just want something sturdy -something that might stand up to some... some damage. Maybe then I'll stop thinking about what horrible things people could do when I watch them hold my servo:. _

Sticks purred a little louder as they changed the subject- something less vulnerable.  _.:There are no professionals for changing your coding, or if there were there are for sure none left now. I might be the best candidate in existence for this sorta thing, actually, now that I think about it. I'll ask you this, Forceps:. _ They grinned and cocked their helm just a bit. They were proud of their history, but knew the concept was a touchy subject for most. Maybe it was time to let their partner know.  _.:Does receiving prize money count as being paid?:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/28/2019**

"Once we circle back to Cybertron, you could help clear the... assorted pests out of new expansion areas. Large and alarming pests. Insecticons and the like," Reaver suggested, slowing his strokes to get around a few details, then flicked one wing slightly and glanced up at Salvo. "And no, that's not frequent, thank Primus. Not much call for that sort of... bloody vengeance and destruction. There are few enough Cybertronians left that the number of sadists is... perhaps a higher percentage than before, but a very low number. One would hope it's zero. I do promise to let you know if and when we find any remaining sadists. Blackspark calls it a 'public service', and I'm... not inclined to refute that term. As for textiles, I know there's a re-weaving machine somewhere on the ship. Takes certain types of synthetic fabrics, melts them down, spins them back into fibers, knits the fibers back into padding and cloths." 

Red stirred and made a quiet squeaking noise, moving a bit, and Reaver made gentle hushing noises as he steered them back onto their front. "Shh, sh, either stay asleep or wake up and stay how you are, dear, your back is covered in paint," he soothed, and purred deep in his throat until Red settled back. "There we are, dear. Red. It's a cute name. And a good thing your aesthetic tastes don't lean more towards blue, or we'd have to change that nickname." 

.

_.:Yes, that should be doable, we could- what the FUCK:. _ Forceps declared, and dropped their examination of Sticks' servo to stare at them.  _.:Are we talking about yet another type of 'how far can I push this before I do permanent damage' contest? Because I see enough of those with fliers crashing trying to prove who can dive lowest and still pull out, bots punching each other in the face until something breaks, and I don't even want to consider all the other types of idiocy. You were doing, WHAT, exactly?:. _

Dear Primus, why couldn't people limit their stupidity to things that wouldn't cause permanent damage? Oh, right, because it was  _ stupidity _ , because apparently everyone in the universe had to one-up each other or they weren't alive, dear  _ fuck _ people were stupid. Primus, what they wouldn't give for the ability to give people common sense transfusions.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/28/2019**

Salvo increased his petting range as Red began to stir, servos traveling down from their neck to the top of their chassis plate and back up to their chin. He cocked his helm slightly, "A... re-weaver? I don't- I guess that makes practical sense. But that doesn't seem like you do a whole lot, just babysit a machine. Plus you think you can make it do cool patterns? You can do some pretty cool patterns with manual weaving. And I found this- lemme show you." 

Salvo took a pause on his petting to pull a datapad out of subspace. He excitedly tapped through prompts on the cracked screen until he pulled up an image, then held it up to show Reaver. It was a portrait of a very stately Tetrahexian noble with a large, intricate spray of lace wrapped around his neck, weighed down by cut titanium-treated crystals. "It's the only picture of this stuff in this guide, but it's beautiful isn't it? The frilly thing, not the mech he's-" Salvo turned around the datapad to get a better look, "he's so-so. You're fancy, Reaver you happen to know what this stuff is? -How to make it? I know... quite a few bots onboard who'd look great with something like that."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/28/2019**

Sticks aimed a smile at Forceps that was at once guilty and slag-eating.  _.:You maaaybe could call it that. It's not really that violent per se. Gladiatorial frame-hacking. There were tournaments, mostly hosted in Iacon, though I did make my way over to a few other cities- Kaon even had a small group. But again it was non-violent. All it takes is a single movement to lose:. _ Their optics began to glow, they honestly loved the sport.  _.:So obviously you try to get your opponent to move, flinch, do something. You get an additional hub for whatever you want, plug into each other and go. A popular solution was using your extra hub to backup your processor to an extent. That's the safe route. Course you could-:. _ They met Forceps's judging stare, their factoid did not help their 'it was fine' stance.  _.:Of course, everyone made backups before these get-togethers to make sure nobody did anything permanent. The league really encouraged creativity over meanness. You had this- this board that you'd use to record what you did- that's what got you points. You couldn't get a win without recording your process. It also gave something for the spectators to look at. You'd get rewarded for style and time taken. And everything would get tallied up and added to your standing in the league:. _ They cocked their helm a bit  _.:Which in turn contributed to the brackets at the end-of-season tournaments:. _

Sticks paused, waiting for Forceps to take in what they'd said before continuing.  _.:And guess who was in the Iacon league's top 10 for 50 consecutive years?:. _ They wore a smug smile and nodded knowingly.  _.:And before you say anything, yes, it was dangerous. People tried slag. If they were nasty they were booted from the league and it was made known they weren't a fair player. Sometimes people came out of there walking a little strangely but once they got to their backups and had help from others they got themselves fixed rather easily. There were no fatalities. Servo-full of hospital visits though, people overheating their processors because of intentional or unintentional facial vent malfunctions. But...:. _ They nodded again,  _.:That's me. That's why I'm qualified. It's-I'm:. _ They were beginning to feel a bit bad about not telling them about it before they'd linked.  _.:I promise, on my spark I would never use any of this against you. I do have some emergency attack programs left, but they're in pieces, I'd need to reassemble them before using them and I have no intention to do so unless the rare chance comes up where it would mean life over death:. _

##  **Betta132** **01/28/2019**

"Hm, oh, it's hardly art, but it seemed vaguely relevant," Reaver shrugged, then chuckled, wings lifting slightly. "Fancy? It's hardly intentional. If you want to know about fancy... Tempo loathes most things to do with nobility but might know, I suspect Milu may have some advice,  _ or _ you could ask the mech behind me." 

Focus squinted just a fraction to get a proper look at the small thing that wasn't exactly close, then settled back further into his chair. "A very nice lace. Takes a massive amount of time and skill to make by servo, which, of course, means most nobles want it done by servo because they like the idea of all the work put into it. I'm sure you could also program a machine to do it. You could  _ build _ a machine to do it. The crystals are simpler, but you may need high heat for that. I never had much luck on my own trying to get that to work, but I never could find the right instructions. If you want to know how to gild something, do let me know,  _ that _ I can do." 

.

_.:Idiot:. _ Forceps scolded, pinching Sticks' forearm plating a bit more strongly.  _.:I'm not surprised someone came up with a nerd equivalent of boxing. Less stupid than other things, but still not exactly smart. You are NOT going to introduce this sport to anyone else! But... you do seem to have avoided permanent damage. Still, you are not going to modify your own sensory input. Little fool:. _

A gentle smack to the side of Forceps' helm, then they sighed, glanced away, and held back the question for as long as they could in an effort not to seem even remotely approving.  _.:...do you have any... recordings of these 'boards'? It's a foolish sport, but... I am... somewhat intrigued:. _

Projecting a sort of fond scolding at Sticks, they sighed and settled in to examine what they were given, unable to completely disguise that they were, in fact, curious. 

.

.

.

##  **Betta132** **01/28/2019**

Arclight, when they woke up, felt... absolutely nothing, at first. It didn't occur to them to do... anything, without any sort of input about what to do. They were curled up in a warm berth, and it felt. Strange. They didn't know what to do with this situation, so they just stayed still and quiet, sizing it up. Until they got hungry, which brought a very simple idea to the forefront; get fuel from where they knew fuel was. They were allowed to. So they did, and they drank long, slow, and deep, savoring that they were doing this of their own accord. And they could  _ taste _ it! 

Next, they wanted to. Hm. 

They got up. Without any purpose in mind, just to stand up. 

The next reasonable thing to do was to walk out of the room, because there was a door that they controlled, and it was the only thing in the way. 

From there. Where?

Patches lifted his winglets at the sight of one of his patients, and spoke gently but loud enough to be heard. Mostly because Arclight was eyeing the door out of the medbay. "Hello! I'm glad to see you're awake. I'm not going to keep you trapped in here, but if you want to leave the medbay, I'd really prefer that someone accompanies you. Just in case you have any problems. Don't want you collapsing somewhere nobody can help you, right?"

Arclight blinked a couple of times, starting one step towards Patches, then stopped and looked around. It wasn't all white, not like most medbays, but, urgh- blue. Definitely still some blue. Making a face, he turned his back on the blue section of cabinets, fully enjoying his ability to do so. And to not have to make optic contact with Patches. Patches seemed... not terrible? But he had a lot of white on him, and Arclight was done having to look at people to talk. "Rather... medbay," he decided, and, slowly, walked towards some of the less  _ blue _ cabinets. Medbays were safe and had people in them who could do things if you needed help. Probably a decent plan to stay in here.

"Okay, well- if you change your mind, let me know. And if you want to look around, you're welcome to, but please don't move anything in the cabinets not marked 'public'. Most of them have to be kept organized the way they are, and need to stay clean. But you're welcome to look, and you can poke around in the public ones all you want," Patches called, then sat back down and got back to scrubbing the spilt glue off the side of one berth. Hard for the cleaning drones to get this sort of thing. Someone had gotten a servo stuck in a big can of glue thanks to the can rim, and had made a terrible mess!

 

##  **Malusdraco** **01/29/2019**

Salvo turned the datapad around to squint at the picture again, "Time and skill... Time... like  _ years? _ I mean I figure I've got enough time. S' the whole point, got too much of it. But years, I dunno. Friend of mine who shall remain nameless, if they're going the way I think they're going, I think they'll propose Cojunx at some point. Knowing them that means I either have a couple months or a couple years. Don't... know how that'd go over with their partner, either exactly, but I'm thinking on the offchance they do have some kinda ceremony, might be nice to have some of this stuff for em. If not, I dunno, maybe by that point there'll be another couple looking to get together. Could just give it to people, too. Or... maybe I could sell it? You don't suppose anyone on this ship actually knows how to make this stuff, do they? Someone who'd have time to uhh... to teach me?"

.

Spade tightened their grip on the plates they had under their arm. They'd taken the long way from Crucible's forge, away from where people typically hung out, out of sight. They still didn't enjoy that they were so vulnerable but they'd gotten to the point where they could wear armor that was never marked. At least this time they'd remembered to stop with their fixing and filling before the crawling under their armor got too bad. Their recently-broken latch still stung. And so, "half-dressed," they walked through the medbay door.(edited)

It wasn't difficult to spot the large hunk of bare metal shaped like a person standing by the cabinets. Their wings flared in a mixture of morbid curiosity and instinctive fear. The mech was clearly moving, but looked distinctly like he should not. Spade quietly shuffled over to Patches, holding up the armful of plates they'd retrieved. They'd watched Crucible clean these up before, only had to wait for them to get treated before taking them back. These were, they supposed, the best their armor was going to get. A close inspection could see the marks where they'd melted out Trail's signature, but Crucible's finishing at least made the surface smooth. 

"Got a few more back today," Spade mumbled at Patches, still staring at Arclight, "Who the fuck is this?"

##  **Betta132** **01/29/2019**

"Years to develop skill, but not years on individual pieces, no," Focus hummed, then sighed and glanced away slightly. "Although... you might find that, when making something for a friend, effort counts as much as, if not more than, skill. It's the thought that people enjoy. Just... don't get overconfident, start out simple," he advised, examining his claws, then shifted the file to his other servo and bared his other set of claws. "I wouldn't know who might have the skill. Crucible is an artistic one, but his work is... nowhere near that  _ delicate _ . I somewhat doubt he has the dexterity. The closest you'll come, I'd imagine, is finding someone who can help you make the tools." 

.(edited)

"That's good, we can- oh, be nice," Patches scolded, very gently, with a little flick of his winglets. "That's Arclight. They've been through a lot, and they just woke up, so they're probably a bit dazed. If you go and talk to them, try to be gentle." 

Arclight had, unsurprisingly, started to snoop. They were poking into every cabinet they could reach, prodding and nudging around, sorting through and pondering trying to swipe and stash something. There wasn't much in here that might be useful, though. No sharp things. Mostly just bandages, ointment, aaaand this cabinet had vibrators in it, probably not useful. What else- 

Hm. Arclight's audials flickered, and he turned slightly, focusing on the world behind him. Patches, again, and- 

What the  _ fuck _ . Why, dear Primus,  _ why _ was a mech who was missing most of his plating handing a few scraps of it to-

Armor bristling slightly, Arclight climbed onto one of the counters, then up to the top of a cabinet, perching on it to study the situation from somewhere higher up. They didn't like the look of this. Didn't like it at  _ all _ . Didn't even know why, just that they didn't, did  _ not _ , did fucking NOT like this. None of it. What- what kind of  _ controlling _ \- Primus, what- who- who was-

Arclight bristled further and crammed themself back against the wall as much as they could, optics bright and distressed, clearly nowhere near "unfocused" any more.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/29/2019**

"Huh..." Salvo let out somewhat of a defeated sigh. What was the likelihood that anyone still  _ alive _ knew how to make something like that? Likely not so good. Sticks's biweekly rants about cultural preservation had gotten to him over the years. He frowned and  subspaced the datapad again. 

"Doesn't it... doesn't it bother you? It's this entire art form that's probably dead or almost dead," Salvo said, "I mean maybe it's kinda stupid to get caught up over something decorative- especially since it was a class thing. But... It's kinda bothering me. I'm..." He paused, gaining resolution, "I'm gonna look into this more, see if I can try to teach myself. Yeah that's a good idea."

.

Spade frowned as they watched Arclight try to... hide? on top of the cabinets. He looked spooked, really spooked. Evidently Patches was understating when he said they'd been through a lot. They didn't know what to do with their own emotions let alone those of other people. So they gave him a bit of a sympathetic wince and carried on. Watching him poke around they  _ did _ spot something interesting, though. A slight glimpse of a familiar shape. 

Spade quickly reshuffled their armful of plates and trotted over to the cabinets, ignoring the big bot perched atop, "Patches you never told me you had a sex toy cabinet out here!" They pulled one out with a lewd smile and looked up at Arclight, "Surprised you didn't go for one of these things. There really isn't much to do here except sit n feel bad about yourself. But now I can sit and feel bad about myself  _ and _ get an overload in every so often." They turned the vibrator around in their servos and flicked it on then frowned again, speaking to themself this time, "S'a little weak, huh. Guess I've gotta supe it up."

Spade stepped back a bit to get a better view of the mech. He was certainly alive by some standard. Definitely too spry to be a corpse. Maybe someone was experimenting with reanimation again. They gestured to the mech, holding the still-buzzing vibrator in their servo, "aren't you a bit big to be standing on top of cabinets?"

##  **Betta132** **01/29/2019**

"Oh, honey, every art form on Cybertron is in shambles, and anyone who's completely confident in us surviving as a species is a fool, if I let it bother me I'd never be able to think about anything else," Focus declared, carefully filing away a tiny raised spot, and lifted his wings in a rather sassy gesture. "You should really be developing some form of protective nihilism at this point, or the world is going to eat you alive. Or ask Patches what the frag he's doing to stay so cheerful. I still think it might be drug-related." 

"Oh, hush, he's not on drugs, though he  _ is _ impressively cheerful," Reaver hummed, and offered Salvo a little smile. "This is... something of an art form. Not the basics, but designing the patterns, figuring out what will look best. Art is highly subjective, and many forms are found on multiple worlds. Sculpture is hardly a unique concept. It's a shame how much has been lost, but... Focus isn't entirely wrong. If we mourn everything that was lost, we will never stop mourning. You should  _ absolutely _ try to teach yourself how to do this, I'm sure there are guides somewhere." 

.

"I don't just make candy!" Patches called across the room, going back to what he'd been doing before. Or, at least, pretending to do so. "I'd have told you if you asked! If they aren't quite to your liking, that's just a basic selection- I do have more, and I can make things. Or we can custom-design something together, if you'd be interested in that! Any idea what you like?" he asked, deciding to just... go with this. Maybe Arclight would relax a bit if he did friendly things. It didn't exactly look great, did it, him here and Spade so terribly naked. "And would you mind letting our friend up there know that I'm not... stealing your armor, or whatever they think that is?" 

Yes, okay, that... did seem a bit better, Spade free to do... whatever this was. Maybe it was... maybe Spade had just been damaged somehow? It was a bit hard to think about it, though, not when all their attention was on. Whatever this was. Frowning slightly, Arclight shifted to get vaguely more comfortable, optics flicking from Spade, to Patches, to the vibrator. And, finally, they brought up... about the only point they could coherently think. "Not that big," they reported softly, and slowly eased down to sit on the work surface instead. Felt a bit silly trying to talk to someone who was all the way down there. "You're just tiny." 

They weren't  _ that _ large. Somewhere in the vicinity of, if not slightly below average height, and skinny. Easily overpowered. Ugh. " _ Like _ to be bigger. Harder to grab."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/29/2019**

"Nihilism doesn't do anything for anyone else. It's not productive. Kind of a selfish way to think, in my opinion," Salvo said, aiming a bit of a look at Focus, "Besides  _ I _ never got to experience any of the art you did and only now do I finally get to care about it. And I  _ shouldn't _ care about it! It's probably much worse for historians. Imagine, your whole life's work, just gone! They're probably mostly gone, too, now that I think about it. How are we supposed to  _ save _ anything anymore?" Salvo paused, visor brightening in realization, "And then what about the people who made the things people were trying to archive? The ones who are gone with their work? That's just- Right I need to stop thinking about this. Fucking depressing."

It had occurred to him that he may be one of the last ones to remember some of the songs he knew. Depressing indeed. Salvo sighed, "I'll try to find something about making lace, hopefully there's  _ something _ left. Don't know where to look, though."

.

Spade looked a bit like they'd tasted something sour. Hard to swallow coming from a mech close to twice their size, one who, they noted with particular chagrin, could absolutely easily grab them. They looked up, attempting to reconcile their obvious differences- to be nice, "S'why I carry a knife. An attitude discourages people to fuck with you, too. Doesn't always work, though. Which is why, you see," they dropped their fixed plating to the floor with a loud clatter and held their arms open wide. Their armor looked patchwork now, most of their abdominal plating had to go, leaving a great deal of their lower half solely protected by a thin layer of muscle cabling. Their front chassis-plate, too, was still missing, showing off their lovely, evocative weldmarks. Most of their limbs and back were still in place, thankfully, save for some bigger protective armor, a piece of which was now on the floor. 

" _ Someone _ decided to fuck with me. They're dead now," Spade said glibly. They paused and decided to clarify, if this mech really was suspicious of Patches it was probably best to be thorough, "Long dead. Left me a whole suite of presents in my own fucking frame including an explosive killswitch, numerous signed plates, and a particularly delicious stab wound. So now I'm mostly naked and have trust issues. Nice to meet you." They turned around to Patches, "I want something questionably large that'll rumble the fuck outta my valve, you got something like that?"

##  **Betta132** **01/29/2019**

"See? You can't think about all of that, or you will go  _ insane _ ," Focus declared, examining his claws. "If you must consider it, at least think about it in pieces rather than all of this. And nihilism keeps you healthy, which lets you help  _ other _ people. As for historians... I know one. The gangly orange helio who trips over, almost literally, everything. Recording or Records or some such. Strongly suspect he's the only one alive." 

Reaver shifted Red a bit to the other side, pet their upper back until they stopped moving around, then sighed and offered Salvo a quiet, sad smile. "I have memories, and I have what skills I managed to develop before my home was destroyed. A servoful of snaps- I never thought I'd need them. Murals... don't hold up well to bombing. Sculptures, slightly better, you may find some if you dig. I... can't think too hard about the past, and what of it we've lost. We can't. We need to focus on what is now, on what is coming soon. From there, we can move into what is coming far into the future. But we need to keep our focus on... here and now, and what will be. Cybertron can develop art again once we recover, but I sincerely doubt it can produce our species again if we manage to kill ourselves off. When we circle back to Cybertron, we can have a look at what's been recovered. Or you could head a project to gather every snap and memory that anyone has of any form of Cybertronian art, that is an option. At  _ least _ one of your friends is an archivist, yes?"

##  **Betta132** **01/29/2019**

.

"The explosive is gone now!" Patches called, just to be sure, already on the way into his workshop. "And let me see, do you want" his voice went a bit muffled as he vanished into the other room "questionably large for you, or for everyone? Because- give me a klik!" 

Well then! Evidently there were more sadists alive than Arclight had figured on. But, okay, that was. Less terrible? Yes, definitely less terrible than the alternatives. Shifting a bit, he eyed the room in general, noting the lack of other people and the fact that Spade was little, then slowly moved down to sit on the floor. A slow, deep breath, and they tucked their knees up to their chassis, relishing that they  _ could _ without pushing on anything. "Arclight. That's fucked," he noted, then his helm jerked up slightly as Patches showed up again. 

"Okay- so I have something you could use conventionally," Patches offered, showing a reasonably sized vibrator, "or you could just get creative with this one," and 'this one' was about the size of his thigh. Way too big for... just about anyone. "And I can spice up the vibes on this smaller one. This one, well- that's just got a strong vibe because otherwise it's not much good. Now, if you can fit this up your valve, I'm seriously concerned for the state of your pelvic cradle, so..."

This seemed to be working! Arclight was on the floor now, and didn't look panicked. If anything, he looked vaguely amused. No scuffs between his thighs, thank Primus, so... probably all right to discuss this sort of thing near him. Especially if he was, what- a dock worker? Something with welders. Dock workers tended to be, ah. Indelicate. "Or you could couple a dildo with an especially strong wand vibe. I can't do that, it's too much for my servos, but  _ you _ aren't a medic. Here, want to get a better look at these? They're clean, I promise- I keep them as samples, nobody's used them for anything more than a few lewd gestures," he chuckled, stopping a reasonable distance away to offer Spade both the semi-reasonably-sized toy and the exceptionally large toy. "I can do different materials for different densities, and I've got it figured out how to do those nice ones with the dense core and the squishy outer layer. Got some with prongs, too, if you want anywhere else rubbed. Basically, if you know what you like, I can... probably make it. Or we could just put some silicone on some part of Crucible and you could play with his engines."

##  **Malusdraco** **01/29/2019**

Salvo was silent for a moment then let out a quiet, "yeah." It was definitely too soon to think about collecting history. He shook his helm, "Two- well... one, yes." Was Spade a friend anymore? He couldn't say, "They're too busy being... not an archivist, though. I don't know how  _ they're _ not more cut up about all this. Maybe they are and they're just good at keeping busy and hiding it. And the other one I don't even know what the fuck they're doing anymore." He let out a tense ex-vent and slowly pet the underside of Red's neck, "It seems so stupid in light of literally everything that's going on, but you go through the war thinking maybe you'll come back-come out of it to something better, or you'll at least get to see what people are talking about and it's just all gone. It sucks."

Salvo sat up and groaned, "I can't keep talking about this. I need to be hopeful again. Small... small goals."

.

"I... wow that is irresponsible, huh," Spade said, optics wide at the girth on the large option. That almost seemed like a challenge. They set their plates down on the ground and walked over to retrieve the toys. But as they took the large dildo in both arms and felt the weight of at least a quarter of their frame press against their chassis as they leaned to take it, they realized, it would be a fool's errand to try to fit this in their valve. They grasped the other toy before waddling over close to where Arclight was sitting and sat down too. Might as well, nothing better to do other than potentially steal away to their room to go self-service with an insufficient vibe. He seemed at least moderately entertained by the whole thing too. It was a service- perhaps a "nice" thing to do.

Spade slapped the big toy on the floor, end first, then reached underneath to turn it on. They watched with a devious smile on their face as it wiggled and grabbed it with a servo to get a feel of the vibration, "Now that's the kinda valve-ravishing vibe I can get behind." They switched the other one on, now in possession of three humming vibrators, they held each one individually, getting a good look, "You know I'm kinda liking the idea of just climbing on someone with an engine, slapping a dildo on them and going to town but..." They tapped the small dildo to their chin, "You know I was going to say I'm more of a solo kinda mech but the idea of someone else in control of the vibe is more appealing than that. But-" They sighed, "gotta be realistic, that's not happening any time soon. What do you think, Arclight? You wanna get a feel for any of these?" They held out the small vibe, leaning just a bit towards the mech.

January 30, 2019

##  **Betta132** **01/30/2019**

"Well... I didn't see most of Cybertron, but it doesn't sound like I'd have wanted to see much of it. From the sound of things, a lot of people were miserable," Reaver contributed softly, then chuckled wryly, "enough to start a war, I suppose. Let's try to build something better, hm? Small goals- figure out what you can about lace. If you can find where Records is, he might have data on it, he hoards information. Or Soundwave- he has information on just about everything else, he might have some guides of this sort of thing. I've seen lace done, but I'm afraid I can't tell you how it's done, it was never an interest of mine." 

After a little while longer, Red gave a quiet, vaguely muffled beep, stirring a bit, then propped themself up slightly on their arms and chirped. Field teeking soft and confused for a moment, they made a genuine attempt to  _ look around _ , then realized it, sighed, shook their helm, and crept up to nuzzle further into Salvo's frame. "Prrrn. Hi. Wha's happ'n?" 

"Hello, Red! We decided to keep working on you while you slept. Don't flip over, your back is covered in wet paint," Reaver cautioned, field quietly broadcasting something approaching "aww" at the noises. Cute! So cute. 

.

"That's for people a lot bigger than you," Patches chuckled, then cocked his helm slightly, pondering. "Though I suppose I could... either pull the core out of a fairly large vibe, wrap that in silicone, and give it to you, or... could try and rig the vibe from  _ that _ into a sybian. Or, really, you could go and ask Crucible. I'm fairly sure his only hesitancy would be a concern about injuring you. You do look a bit like I could pick you up, shake you a bit, and you'd fall apart. I do have a few toys that conduct vibrations well and have suction at the base- they're intended to be used with a partner's engines. I like to use them with my partners. Won't invite you in, that's- that's really getting into something muddy, you  _ are _ my patient, but I'm certainly not the only one here with a strong engine." 

Arclight's optics darted back and forth a few more times, then, slowly, they scooted forward a bit and took the toy. It buzzed a bit too strongly for their liking, so they turned it down, then off, then eyed it for a moment or two before looking to Spade. A tiny smile, almost suggestive, then they revved- it wasn't technically an engine, it was a motor, they were fairly sure those were different, but it was in their chassis and it was strong. Almost,  _ almost _ suggestive, that. It... seemed like the... thing to do.

##  **Malusdraco** **01/30/2019**

Salvo frowned at the mention of Soundwave's name, " _ Hmph _ like I'd willingly interact with that purple men-" and then he felt Red wake up and sat up a bit straighter. He leaned over just slightly towards them, a soft ping of happiness floating through his field, "You fell asleep and we talked a lot. I got your helm and it's probably still wet right now so try not to crash into anything," He gently moved his servo in to once again hold their cheek, "We were just talking about... about lace. You know the datapad I've been reading? It's on Cybertronian textiles. Looks like a lotta this stuff doesn't need a lot of optic coordination- weaving and knitting, that is- and I was thinking... we could learn together, if that's something you'd be interested in." He spoke tentatively, as if merely suggesting it was a stupid idea, "the 'pad's got some tutorials on it already so we'd just need the tools and materials. It doesn't look too hard to do..."

.

"Nobody will be picking me up, thank you," Spade mumbled at Patches's comment then turned abruptly at the noise of Arclight's motor. They watched them dubiously for a split klik, raising an eyebrow-ridge, "Is that... an offer? Or are you just really excited about that vibe? Cause if it's the former I'm gonna have to decline. No offense but you're a lil too..." They were in the middle of sizing the mech up when they spotted the angular scars radiating out from their chassis, which they could finally see up close. The smirk fell from their face. They began to look... tired. They couldn't quite piece together what it meant, just how many there were, but they had an idea. It was scars like those that'd caused them so much grief. This was so far above what they knew how to deal with. 

Spade looked away after a moment, at anything else, and spoke much quieter, "Lil too beat up. Not that I'm in the market anyway, trust issues, remember." They wanted to leave. They were a fool for even approaching the bot in the first place. They tossed the medium sized vibe up in the air and caught it again, trying to finesse their way out of looking as uncomfortable as they felt, "Am I hypocritical? Possibly, my frame's seen better days and I'm beginning- I'm  _ well into _ thinking it won't see em again." They half-grimaced half-smiled at themself, and gestured to Patches with the vibe in their servo, "So Patches, can I just take this one with me?"

##  **Betta132** **01/30/2019**

"Oh, he's not that bad, though I imagine he'd be horrifying to have to fight," Reaver muttered, then lifted his helm slightly to look over at Focus. "I wouldn't really know, I didn't have to fight him." 

"Don't look at  _ me _ about that, I'm a Decepticon and I made a habit of  _ not _ annoying him," Focus declared, wincing slightly at the very thought. "I did see someone try to  _ tackle _ him, for some... idiotic reason. He threw them across the room without moving more than one cable. Not sure if he's unusually strong, or just... excellent with leverage." 

Red thought for a moment, picking up on the unease, and wriggled forward slightly to push their face much further into Salvo. "Sounds good," they declared into his frame, field returning the quiet affection, doing their best to crawl into his lap without their helm or back touching him at all. Reassurance was probably important here. "Might need help with aesthetics, but... textures." 

.

"Oh, stop that, you're not going to die," Patches scolded, then paused and shrugged slightly, starting back towards his workshop. "Oh, hush, you're not going to die. Unless something blows up our entire ship with us on it, or something else unforeseen. Your frame is not happy with you or your past situations, but you aren't dying! And stop acting like you are, it's bad for your health. Stay there while I try and find a stronger core for that."

Was it an offer? Arclight didn't know. That wasn't the... worst thing to think about. Not the most tempting thought, but there were certainly worse ones. But, yes, the refusal was fair, they were a stranger and they looked like- a quick glance down confirmed that, yes, they looked like someone had been... oof. Attacking their chassis with a pickaxe between bouts of pouring paint stripper on them. Not flattering! But, hm. Never mind that. There was an obscenely large vibrator to poke at.

Patches trotted back over with his winglets pricked at a satisfied angle, holding a different vibe core in one servo- carefully, so as not to inadvertently turn it on. "Okay- unscrew the base off that one and put this in, let me know if you like it. It's really too strong for my tastes, but if you want vibrations... this'll do it. And  _ that _ is for especially big bots, shuttles and the like, or bots who have a size kink and like to grind on things. Now, why do you have- that sounds like an engine in there, but Sticks told me you have rotors. What am I looking at- you have some wheels stashed somewhere?" he asked cheerfully, deciding to stay out of range and let Arclight poke the toy and watch him. "It's not important, I'm just curious. Haven't met a hexcopter in a few centuries, I don't think."

Arclight sat back slightly, still prodding the especially large toy to feel the squishy outer layer, and lifted his free servo to a small hatch on his side. With a solid whir of an unspooling, well, spool, he pulled out a length of thick cable with a hook on the end, offering it where Patches could easily see. Needed the motor for that, reeling things up. Strong motor, too- strong cable. Had to be able to keep up with what he could lift on his own, reel it up and down. Simple. No wheels. Possibly some gears, he wasn't clear on his own internal mechanisms. Hadn't seen them. Not these ones, at least. Ugh. Pulling a bit more of the cable out, he clenched his dentae hard on thin air, baring them slightly, then abruptly winced and brought a servo to his jaw. Fuck. Ow.

January 31, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **01/31/2019**

Salvo grimaced at the conversation, but paid attention to Red first. He gave them a slight smile and hummed softly, "We'll find you some nice soft fibers somehow- gotta figure out where, though." He paused to glance down at their position and shifted a bit to stretch a leg out, pulling Red further up into his lap by their elbows, "Your arms are dry, by the way, don't have to worry about them anymore."

A serious look on his face, Salvo turned to the other two, "I don't like how he's here. I really don't like it. And I especially don't like being asked to trust someone like that when my team is in too bad a shape to really push against him if he snaps one day and decides to go full pit fighter." He sighed and leaned back on one arm, "Few thousand years ago? If we were all together I'd confidently say we could take him. But now I'm not so sure. Guess there's always gonna be something. If it's not the threat of starvation, or being ripped apart by various giant insects, it's a Decepticon general walking around like he owns the place."

.

Spade took the new vibrator core from Patches and deftly switched it out with the old one. They absentmindedly watched Arclight and slowly raised an eyebrow ridge. A hexcopter with a winch? They were worker class, then. Construction maybe. What would they need the stability of six rotors for, though. Precision lifting? Construction of big things that need exact placement- perhaps something that would otherwise break apart if not built correctly, which could mean... reactors, large engines, spaceworthy vessels, anything that used FTL warping. And the mech was big, not too big, but drones like themself only got so tall. Industrial work then, for sure. Their optics flickered a bit as the mech bit down on nothing -didn't seem to smart either. Then again -another look at them- they got the feeling something was definitely deeply wrong with them. Again that sinking feeling bubbled up in their chassis. It didn't exactly put them in a good mood.

"S'not the dying part that I don't like-actually some dying right now might be fucking welcome," Spade muttered, oh they were definitely in a mood now, "Too much to fix, all my friends hate me, and I'm sick to all Pit of being afraid of my own fucking armor." They finished screwing in the new vibrator core and flicked it on. Giving the toy and appraising heft, they nodded, satisfied, "Nothing to look forward to except for sexual gratification and the day when frame finally decides it's had enough."

Spade gave Patches a wry smile and extended the old core to him for a moment before taking it away to turn it off and offering it again mumbling something along the lines of "sensitive servos." They still held it out as they made their way to their room, plates still on the floor, they'd had enough of this, "thanks Patches, time to drown my woes in cum."

##  **Betta132** **01/31/2019**

"If  _ that's _ your only problem, the solution is simple. Any sort of sensory overload grenade. Except if someone makes one designed to overwhelm  _ smell _ , that might not work so well. Really, I'm shocked more people don't take sonic grenades to him," Focus contributed, very matter-of-factly, buffing his claws with a cloth. He  _ liked _ the updated gold details on his servos, and they'd look best if polished well. "He keeps the volume on most standard alarms lowered anywhere he spends a significant amount of time, and I  _ know _ sonic grenades exist. Don't tell him I told you that." 

Reaver hummed contemplatively, sorting through a few cans of paint, and swapped his beginning-to-harden brush for another one. "I don't think he's about to snap. People snap when they're under stress. If he didn't snap at any point during the war, he should be fine now. Besides..." he sighed, voice lowering and taking on the slightest bit of a warm quality, "I went to see Blackspark's little one earlier. Soundwave was there. Curled around him.  _ Purring _ . He didn't exactly look stressed. We talked. Well- I talked, he played assorted recordings. He was curious about my Order. I find myself liking him," he commented, nudging Red onto one side slightly. "He's... calm, from what I've seen and heard, and he seems intelligent. I'm sure he could be dangerous, but... so could I. Not as much as  _ him _ , but I could be an issue if I wanted to be." 

"Never met him. Kills people fast. No... messing around, no cruelty. I like that," Red sighed, curling comfortably up into Salvo's lap. "Don't know him otherwise. People think he's smart. Has to be. He's better than giant sandworms, won't attack you without being provoked," they declared, getting comfortable, and began to pet around Salvo's flanks to hopefully calm him down a bit. "More worried about Doom's destructiveness than Soundwave's. Don't think Soundwave does... wanton  _ anything _ ." 

.

##  **Betta132** **01/31/2019**

"Please try not to die on purpose. We can find you new things to do, but it's going to be kind of hard to find you a new entire spark," Patches declared, watching Arclight for a moment, and pulled something out of subspace that he'd gotten with this particular bot in mind. "Catch, Arclight- bite on this instead of the air, don't hurt your jaws," he coaxed, tossing a cylinder of soft metal to... possibly the most messed-up bot in the room, or, really, probably, and gave Spade an approving look for the thoughtfulness. Followed by a bit of a "might as well" look. "I suppose there's worse things to drown one's woes in. Go! Produce endorphines." 

Weird. Arclight looked back and forth between the two bots, then down at the metal bar, then. All right. Yes. Experimentally, he lifted the bar to his face and nipped at it, then bit down, hard, and their whole frame's expressions melted into  _ relief _ . 

"There we go! I thought that might be... I call them 'anti-triggers'. Specific, seemingly odd things, that help people calm down. You bite that all you want, and when it gets marked up too much, I can melt it down and re-shape it. Spade, do you not want your- guess you don't want the armor," Patches declared, gathering up Spade's plating, and stacked it neatly. "I'll help you with it once you're done drowning. And do you mind, later, giving me some tips on proper care of rotors? It's been a long time since I've had a helio-mech patient, and I'm guessing Arclight here is probably going to need some help reaching all the hard spots. I haven't had to groom a set of rotors in a long time."(edited)

February 1, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/01/2019**

Salvo made a mental note to figure out how to make sonic grenades, just in case. Hopefully if Soundwave thought that was enough to consider provocation, he'd already have his servos on one and the fight would be even. That would buy him enough time to get at least one shot off in addition to a second he'd be afforded at the distance he'd keep from the mech. He was getting himself worked up. He let out a long ex-vent and pet his servo down Red's arm. 

"Not you too, Red," Salvo whined, "Neither Doom nor you, Reaver have commanded an army of tens of thousands. Do we know for sure he's not going to try to scheme his way into making another Decepticon movement? Lure us in with calmness and then start killing the non-believers? I won't be part of that and I won't let my friends- my  _ team _ be part of that... even the ones on probation..." His efforts to calm himself down weren't really working. He gripped Red's arm firmly, "I  _ will _ keep them safe. There will be no... There'll be no clemency for those who prey on the weak." His field blossomed with fiery  _ conviction/ righteousness/ anger/ fear. _ He had a servo-ful of desperately weak bots under his care that he wasn't about to let  _ anything _ happen to. He'd do whatever it took. After all, he was the leader.

.

Spade looked back at Patches, the slightest hint of a weary look on their face. They lifted their wings slightly, spreading out the mangled rotor blades for a klik before power walking over to their room. They shuddered as the door shut behind them and marched over to the berth. They couldn't bring themself to make it as carefully as they wanted to, so it continued to sit instead as a mess of blankets and ripped blanket scraps. Their piles of armor in the corner were getting smaller as they began to wear more and more unmarked pieces. But the fixed pieces had gathered in their own judgmental pile that Spade passed on their way to the berth. 

Spade tried to get comfortable, pushing some blankets to the side and setting a knee up. They propped themself on an elbow- one that had armor on it and reached down with their other servo to run a thumb around the edges of their panel. They could feel it in their finger more than anything else. In slight dismay, they grabbed and ground their palm against the plate. Something small sparked in their thighs and they let out a sigh. They turned on the vibe and slid their panel open to draw the toy around their valve lips. They felt... bad. They couldn't concentrate on the feeling whatsoever. Before they could get into any sort of mood, the clinging despair that'd marked their past week seeped in, dulled their sensors. The vibe just irritated their fingers. 

After a few minutes of earnest trying, Spade gave up with a frustrated sigh. They flicked the toy off and lay in the berth silently for a few more minutes, a partially-covered arm over their optics. This was pathetic,  _ they _ were pathetic.

It was a total of perhaps 20 minutes they'd spent alone in their room before venturing out again into the medbay proper, a defeated look on their face. They'd had the forethought to close themself up and leave the now-slightly-used vibrator in their room.

 

##  **Betta132** **02/01/2019**

"If he tries to start up any kind of war again, he's getting kicked off the ship. Possibly  _ literally _ , nobody around here wants anything to do with that," Reaver sighed, and moved a bit closer, field extending to offer Salvo some reassurance. "It's all right. He's hardly going to storm into here and demand soldiers to fight a new war, last I saw of him he was too busy  _ purring _ ," he noted, leaning slightly closer to Salvo, a silent offer of touch. "You're all right. You're  _ safe _ . Breathe. Let's keep working on Red, all right? We can figure this out later. No darkness in my room." 

"Don't know if he's a good person. Just know he kills fast," Red sighed, and carefully sat up, listening for a moment before kicking up the loudest purr they could manage. It didn't work all that well, too soft, too thin, but it was a purr. "Don't... don't feel threatened right now. Just tired. Warm. Wanna hold you," a small pause and a tiny smile "and wanna look cuter so you make more noises." 

.

Arclight had gotten ahold of a long-handled brush, and had leaned up against the side of one berth, optics mostly shut as they ran the brush over their rotors. Slow and steady, little circular scrubbing motions, more akin to petting than any sort of cleaning. All six rotors were out and flicking, absent little twitching noises, and he lifted his helm slightly at Spade's approach, watching how they moved. No luck, evidently- Spade looked kinda pissed, and not exactly satisfied. A slow blink, then another, then he held out the brush, handle-first, for Spade to come over and take. Must be too tense to have any luck. Maybe... an offer of...

Rotors. That was about the only thing he was really focused on, was Spade's rotors. Hadn't seen a copter in... oh, Primus, Way too long. Not for a decent bit of his earlier life, either! They'd only needed the one rotormech per job site, so one rotormech it had been. Another rotormech had always been a good thing for him- a signal that he had some time to sit and talk. Safety. Rest. So... Spade. Did Spade... want to talk? At all? Maybe just sit? 

Arclight didn't want to sit near Patches. Too much white. Didn't want to try and find Sticks, he'd upset them too much the first time. Spade wasn't happy, but Spade wasn't happy about things that were mostly unrelated to Arclight. So, Arclight sat and offered the brush, quiet, tucked up against the berth. Calm. As comfortable as possible.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/01/2019**

Salvo took a few deep breaths and let go of Red's arm. His servo shook slightly, at which he frowned. The last time he'd gotten this way he'd spooked Sticks and that was not okay with him. Lo and behold he'd done it again. There was no threat -clear and present at least. This wasn't wartime anymore and there were others he could rely on if things went south. He slowly wiped his servo across his face, "I... sorry." Did he want to explain the numerous deaths on his shoulders that made him feel so strongly? No. He was just beginning to internalize what those years of shouldering the burden on his own had done to him when just a conversation put him on edge. 

Salvo leaned down to gently bump his crest on Red's forehelm. He couldn't help but mirror their smile, "yeah... yeah alright." Closing his optics he let out another deep sigh, "I gotta stop being the anxious one here. It's hypotheticals anyway." He cleared his throat, it was Spade that'd been putting him in an easily-stressed mood, he realized- that hanging thread made of undue suffering and guilt. He'd need to have that conversation before he could really do much else of importance. "Well," he chuckled, "judging by what I've been watching Reaver do, you're just gonna keep looking cuter. Which reminds me... what's... what's your alt, Red? He was saying earlier how you should be in alt when he's doing the details and I agree. Might as well make sure you're fashionable in every mode."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/01/2019**

Spade considered the brush for a bit then slowly took the handle, hard to make grooming disappointing, "yeah I'l... I'll get you." 

They climbed up on the berth and sat down cross-legged behind Arclight. Been a while since they'd seen anything like them, it was almost nice. Though, cupping their servo under one of his rotor heads, they'd admit they were a bit jealous of just how intact his rotors were. Their other servo choked up on the brush so they held the flat part in their palm and they began to brush, softly- the bristles were a bit coarse for their tastes, around the circular base where the blades were connected to his frame, "I used to like this, didn't really get a lot of other opinions, though so if you don't you gotta tell me." Their voice was softer than before, quieter, "Listen, Arclight, right? I don't... I don't wanna know what happened to you to get this way. I really don't. I'm sure it's depressing as all Pit and I frankly don't need any more depressing in my life. So don't feel like you gotta share or anything cause you really,  _ really _ don't."

Spade moved on to rubbing the brush down the rotor's arm, "'Course, tell me enough to keep me in line. I'm... not in the business of hurting folks anymore -ex-spy, go ahead and take all your anger out on me if you hate spies, I assure you it'd only be a favor to me." They were rubbing the base now, gentle circles right where the rotor arm connected to Arclight's frame. A few more kliks and they switched to the other one on his back. 

Spade paused and grimaced, " _ fuck _ I need a drink," quietly, so Patches wouldn't hear. A wary glance over to the medic and they leaned over to whisper close to Arclight's audial, "I know a secret way to the bar, no prying optics. You afraid of the dark?"

##  **Betta132** **02/01/2019**

"It's all right, Salvo," Reaver purred, long and deep, and moved up a bit closer. "It's okay. You were thrown into a leadership position, in a desperate situation, with no training or anything to help you out. You are allowed to have anxiety issues after all that! Breathe. I'm not upset with you. Just... try to relax for me. And, Red- don't transform yet!" he exclaimed, moving as if to stop them, but relaxed back when they stopped moving. "You aren't quite dry yet, you will get paint in interesting and unpleasant places if you transform." 

Red stopped their attempt at getting up, settling back against Salvo's frame, and purred the softest noise against his frame before moving to speak. "A... relatively nondescript vehicle. I can pull more weight than most expect, and I can shift some portions of myself to make a viable stretcher out of my alt's back. And... I..." a long pause and a soft, deep ex-vent, "I might be able to see in my alt. Don't. Don't know how I feel about that. Don't know if I" a much shakier vent "can. Can do that. And not panic." 

A moment of silence, then Red clicked their glossa slightly and sat back just a bit, as if to look up at Salvo. "Do you want... you could, um, you- you would be far from the first to 'surf' on my alt. I have high-quality shocks." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/01/2019**

Arclight looked quietly surprised, potics brightening a bit, and murmured "I meant that for you" up at Spade. They made no protest beyond that, though. Far be it from them if someone wanted... to... oh. 

Their optics shuttered for a few beats, then opened again, and the rotor not being touched clicked in a satisfied manner. This was  _ good _ . There wasn't really anything to scrub away, but the brush felt good. Mutual grooming.  _ Good _ . He would have returned the favor if he could, but he didn't have any other brushes and couldn't reach anyway. Instead, he settled for the very softest purr, field projecting nothing more than an impression of a long, slow, contented blink. Their vocalizer onlined as if to say something, then shut off, and they turned just enough to bump their audial into Spade's arm. Spade was small, and a rotor-mech, without any of the colors they hated. Pissy and anxious, but, hey, they had good reason!

At the suggestion, their optics darted over to Patches, then glinted, and they spoke low and soft to Spade. "Busy. Watch. Leaves a lot. Dark's fine. Wanna get  _ plastered _ ," he declared, and watched Patches, quietly, keenly, as he went about his work. As soon as Patches walked out of the room, Arclight stood up and  _ stretched _ , servos braced on the berth, all six sets of blades fanning as much as they could without hitting anything, then settled their rotors away. They didn't close the doors, but they let the rotors sink back into their grooves, keeping them protected. Looking tired and a bit uncertain, but very much  _ here _ , they moved to follow after Spade, movements a bit odd but relatively stable. Just. Stiff. Rather sore everywhere, or so it felt- something about their spark being misaligned with their frame, they hadn't listened to most of the explanation beyond "we can't do much to help you, I'm afraid" in that candy-sweet voice. Didn't hurt too much, they just felt like they'd participated in an avalanche recently. Or like the time they'd been run into by a swinging crate. Oof. 

They'd  _ love _ a drink. Or five. But. Hm. Armor clamping a bit tighter, they grumbled "can't pay" to Spade, too soft to easily hear, and brought their servos up to scratch at their arm plating. Not that it did anything at all. No claws.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/01/2019**

Salvo wasn't sure if Reaver's assessment was entirely right but was immediately derailed from correcting him as Red started to get upset, "We'll take it slow, then, right? If it's too much you can always just transform back, nobody here's going to judge you, -least I think so. They better not or else they'll get a slap right in the face." He didn't sound so serious this time, "Your terms. Always. We're not gonna force you into anything. And, worst comes to worst, we've got one expert cuddler in the room, and another who I'm sure is pretty good. Focus... I don't think..." He threw a dubious look at the aforementioned mech before returning his gaze to Red, flickering something mischievous in his field, " _ If _ you're okay with being in alt I'm definitely gonna take you up on that offer. Whether you can navigate in alt is gonna determine  _ where. _ " He leaned in a bit closer and quieted his voice, "if you can see we should  _ definitely _ surf around the halls- fast as you can." 

.

Spade was casual as they kept an optic on Patches and as soon as the chance presented itself, led Arclight over to a closet door close to where Acus had pointed out the drone hole. They extended a datacable from their wrist and plugged it into the door lock. By the time Arclight appeared behind them, the door opened with a satisfying click. They ushered the other mech in before walking in themself and closing the door behind them. Inside was lit only by emergency lights that glinted off the piles of drones now in sleep mode and the remnants of the light filtering in through a tiny hole in the wall.

Spade wasted no time as they walked over to a console on the wall, their secondary set of digits extended out, explaining quietly as they did what they did several times before, "Another medic pointed that hole out to me, s'where they keep the cleaner drones. Went in here to see if I could fuck with them any and discovered  _ that, _ " they paused to point to a relatively large door in the wall, much different than the other doors on the ship. It was unpainted and had a different locking mechanism, "It's unlocked. An entrance to a service corridor, runs the length of the ship. It's definitely a security risk but I'm not telling anyone." They scoffed and carefully scrolled through something on the console for a few kliks before triumphantly pressing a key, "there! Security footage deleted. I think they use this console for drone maintenance, unfortunate for them, it's not hard to hack into the security network from here." 

Spade turned confidently on their heel to face Arclight as they retreated their secondary digits back into their servos, "they'll know we're gone it's just important they don't know  _ where. _ Now, gotta lay some ground rules."  They sent out a comm ping and immediately followed it up with  _.:Comms okay?:. _

##  **Betta132** **02/01/2019**

"No, no, I-I can," Red began, voice oh-so-soft, and started to carefully knead their servos on Salvo's flanks for reassurance. For them, and for him. "I can do it. Can. Can use it to see you. When?" they asked Reaver, quiet and starting to calm, petting Salvo's sides up and down in long strokes. Warm. 

"After we finish the first layer and it dries. I'll use your alt to assess where I should highlight, then transform you back for the cuddle-ability. After the highlight layer dries, I'll keep you in alt mode for the minor details, so I can make sure they'll all line up then. Once that dries, you'll transform back into root one more time, and I can detail the areas not visible in your alt," Reaver laid out, working his way lower down Red's frame and along their leg structures. "This is a more detailed area- trickier. Have to cover all the armor plates, without too much transfer into the inner workings." 

.

Arclight did his level best to watch everything at once, and twitched slightly at the ping, caught off guard. A slight sway to their helm, and they considered the message for a moment, optics narrowing slightly.  _.:Comms fine. Rules, less. Don't want rules. Can't make me. Won't let you:. _ they declared, backing up a bit, and tripped slightly on the large disk of one drone. This was definitely a crime-type activity, at least the camera thing was, but, Primus did he want to get drunk, he'd put up with a lot if he could get drunk. But he wouldn't take- 

He might take some rules. Some were okay. Maye. But a lot weren't. Worst-case scenario... how far could he kick Spade? Probably pretty far. 

And what the fuck was up with those servos?

February 2, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/02/2019**

"Good thing I'm not the one trying to do your legs," Salvo laughed, "And if I'd known you'd be  _ seeing _ me today I would have been a little more careful with the paint." 

He brought a couple fingers to touch his face where he knew he'd been splattered, as he expected, it was dry. At least none of it got on his visor. The paint had created a tiny spray of dots, across his nose with a few bigger blotches on his cheeks, not unlike freckles. His arm was a different story. The normal maroon and dark grey was splashed in a scratchy off-color-red blob where he'd cleaned the brush off. He grimaced a bit, "yeah it's all dry, now. You won't be seeing me at my best, Red, but that's okay."

Salvo sighed, slightly amused, and pet the backs of his fingers against Red's cheek. He didn't want to seem as excited as he was for Red to take this step, but he was. He was excited at the prospect of Red seeing his face, perhaps selfishly, and even more selfishly at the idea of hall surfing with them. Though, maybe it was also the prospect of having actual fun with them- it was thrilling.

.

Spade's rotors flicked upward at the resistance. They frowned slightly and went to open the door,  _.:Course I can't make you but let me put it this way:. _ They got both of their servos around the edge and hefted their entire weight against it. It moved slowly but surely outward.  _.:You touch me, I yell. You pick me up, I scream. Any more significant noise and we'll get caught, put back here, and my- OUR way to the bar without being seen gets sealed off almost assuredly:. _ They pushed the door a bit more, getting a look back at how big Arclight was, then pulled away and stood in front of the opening as soon as they were reasonably sure the mech could get through.

_.:I don't know if YOU want to go the public way to the bar every time after, but I don't- I really don't. If there's something that's gonna make you scream, or yell, tell me now. I want to be quiet too:. _

##  **Betta132** **02/02/2019**

Reaver gently coaxed Red onto their side a bit further and  _ purred _ to them, long and slow, to settle them that final bit as he kept working. "If you want more room than the hallways, most of the cargo bay has space. We haven't built up most of it because we do need the space down there, so there's plenty of room to play around. Or you could surf in the hallways, we don't have anyone who'll care too terribly much as long as you don't run them over. Do try not to run over anyone," he suggested, pausing to gently flex Red's pede. "Let's see if you have anything snagged in your ankles, shall we?" 

Red shifted over as Reaver nudged them, helm cocked up at Salvo. "Sounds perfect," they purred, ever-so-softly, kneading gently on Salvo's sides. "Mm. 'm sure you're nice," then, up in the general direction of where they'd heard Focus before, "and I can find out if you're  _ actually _ all that hot." 

.

How... how had "you can't make me do anything" sounded like a threat? Arclight blinked a couple of times, frowning slightly as they pondered the whole thing, Oh. Right. Someone had- right. There'd been fuckery.  _.:Not going to make you do anything, either. Just. Won't:. _ a long pause, trying to figure out what their lines were, then  _.:won't unless it's a rule for both of us:. _ he decided, peeling himself off the wall he'd planted himself against. Okay. That definition could be exploited, yes, but hopefully it got the general idea across. Things about being sneaky? Fine. Things about what Arclight, specifically, wasn't allowed to do? Fuck off. 

Not that Arclight really knew what he was going to do in a bar without any  _ money _ , but, hey, might be able to find enough unattended drinks to get plastered. So, un-bristling as much as they could, they ducked through the opening and kept going. Right. Okay. 

How the fuck were they going to navigate Spade's trauma? They'd... fuck. Never had to deal with anything like this. Not really. A single incident freaking someone out? Sure. That one bot who got beat up and was flinchy for awhile after? Workable! But, this? Almost,  _ almost _ sounded like... like his. 

Might have helped some if Arclight had any idea what to do with himself other than "get fucking drunk and pass out somewhere nobody can reach". That was always fun! 

Hm. Maybe they'd just... try not to say anything else, let Spade also get drunk. Mutual drunkenness could be good. 

Mutual drunkenness sounded divine.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/02/2019**

Salvo let out a single barking laugh, "oh of course! Which begs the question... I don't even know what your taste is, Red. Suppose we've-" he looked from Focus to Reaver, two different styles of attractiveness, each to a high degree, "-We've got a bit of a sampler here. Or- yanno, guess we're missing short mechs and reeeeal big mechs... and femmes- all the possibilities there." He leaned in real close to whisper in Red's audial, cupping his servo around his mouth so Focus couldn't read his lips if he was watching, "And I'll say right now, you see something you like, I'll be your wingmech, for sure. I'm basically a professional." 

Salvo sat back, a very confident, "in case you ever wanted to" grin on his face. He didn't know the first thing about romance, nor about how to set people up with each other. He'd watched Sticks and Forceps get together over the course of a few weeks, (He liked to imagine he had some small part in that), aaand he'd seen a couple of involved courtships on the Autobot transport ship. How hard could it be to vouch for his very cute friend? Turn on the little flirt personality and then redirect that in Red's direction? Not difficult. 

Of course any possible partner would need to go through a gamut of Salvo's own evaluations to make sure they were trustworthy and weren't about to hurt them. He was prepared to give any longterm partner a threatening talk. Been there, done that, he was ready.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/02/2019**

Spade stared back at Arclight for a moment, slightly confused,  _.:Okay I won't touch you then either. Don't think I could pick you up but I know not to try now:. _ They led the way down the corridor, trying not to let the knowledge of Arclight's frame behind them freak them out. They stopped walking for a klik and looked over their shoulder at him before carefully turning the brightness on their paint higher. 

It was a rather espionage-related decision to go through the tedious process of wiring in the color and brightness controls on the phosphorescent-painted areas of their plating, but in hindsight was one of the only things they still liked about their frame- let them camouflage themself in the sky. Or become a light source when needed. Splotchy areas of the plates they were wearing gave off a weak purple glow, not enough to see very well by, but enough to be visible in the dark, and bounce off some of the shinier surfaces around them. They kept a navigating servo on the wall, waiting to feel something they recognized.  _.:Resident bartenders are kinda freaky. Twins. Chemists. You're gonna wanna be specific with what you want, liable to give you something hallucinogenic:. _

Suddenly Spade straightened their back, they felt something they recognized, only a bit further. They gave Scissor a quick warning comm  _.:Coming in the back way, gonna need you to open the door. Brought a friend. New face. Absolutely fucked but wants to get smashed. Don't touch them:. _ They stopped, rubbing their palm against the wall. It was the third door down, the only one that had opened when they knocked on it. Whether poor design or a safety measure, the doors to this place only opened from the outside. From this side, they'd need a key, an actual physical key, that they didn't have. They knocked three times on the door with a knuckle and sighed, "now we wait." They quickly commed an important addition,  _.:A warning about these two, they're very... active. Too many arms. I've told them to keep their servos off you but that doesn't mean they won't try to... lick you:. _ They shook their helm.

February 3, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/03/2019**

"Is that a job?" Red asked softly, curling to the side and tucking up nice and comfy where Reaver could still reach their pedes. They were starting to purr much louder, long and slow and happy, nuzzling into Salvo's stomach. And it was  _ adorable _ . 

Reaver paused his work to croon "ohh Primus that's sweet" under his breath, propping one of Red's pedes on a cloth covering his leg, and stroked his brush further along the plates to cover more of it in fresh paint. "You look so  _ comfortable _ , Red. It makes me want to be small enough to fit entirely in someone's lap. I don't quite fit in most laps, and the wings get in the way," he noted, carefully detailing around an area where a small chunk of plating was outright missing and hadn't grown back yet. Best not to paint over an area being actively regrown. "And I don't think you'll have much trouble if you want to flirt with someone. You are a sweet little bot." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/03/2019**

Arclight moved a bit oddly, stiffly, and didn't sound particularly like any sort of threat. When Spade lit up, their optics glinted slightly and they moved a fraction closer as they followed, just to watch the light and where they were going. Oh. Wow. Fancy!  _.:Genetic, or built?:. _ they asked quietly, curious, then tensed a bit at the warning.  _.:They might what:. _

Scissors happily answered the door, a bit splattered with something blue but looking largely intact, and offered Spade a cheerful smile. Scooting back out of the way, he nudged at his twin until they got back into roughly the right area to work on drinks instead, both of them trying their level best to stay over there and in their own personal space. Oh, they were  _ curious _ \- the missing paint, was that stress or chemical? And, rotors! So many rotors! Who and what was this bot? What would they transform into? Did they have cool weapons? What the frag had happened to their chassis? Many questions! But they didn't touch, they did not touch, they just jiggled in place as they grabbed materials. "Hello, friend! On house- any preferences?"

Arclight watched them vibrate for a few moments, his unease easing away as they continued to be harmless enough, and stepped much closer at the offer of a drink. "Strong. Want to  _ taste _ it.  _ No _ hallucinogens," they declared, then planted their back against the door, quite firmly, to stare around the room and pick out everyone else. Weren't too many people, but there were people. Fuck. At least they were mostly hidden behind some cabinets here, they might not have been spotted yet.

"That was  _ one time _ ," Duo choroused, aiming half-sparked glares at Spade in the same motion as they swirled something sparkly green into two different energon cubes. Sparkly looked great in just about every drink, in their opinion. This was a good one for someone who wanted to get drunk but didn't want just the taste of the strong energon- nice and strong, lightly sweet, a bit tangy, mix in a dash of something coppery for that nice richness, all of it not quite covering up the strong taste that warned "this will put you on your aft". Larger cube for Arclight, of course- best to let them get drunk at roughly the same pace. Field flaring out in a cheerful greeting, they danced out just close enough to pass the cubes to their respective recipients, then backed off and continued to wiggle and climb on each other as they sorted things and cleaned glasses. They still, still so very much wanted to climb all over Arclight, but a bot who eyed them like  _ that _ and had marks all over their chassis, not to mention no paint at all, was not for touching.

Arclight stared suspiciously at them both, then to Spade to check if they were drinking, and only took a sip after they'd seen someone else drink. The taste flooded their mouth, and they ex-vented long and soft in something like relief, despite the bite of the energon. Licking their lips, they eyed the cube for a moment, then glanced up to Duo and muttered "good". And then, well. Liked them just the tiniest bit more when Duo  _ beamed _ in response. That. That was kinda sweet.(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **02/03/2019**

"Naw, doesn't have the boringness of a job," Salvo said through a smile. A warm, happy puddle of loudly-purring bot never failed to put his spark at ease. He reached over to pat Red on the top of their helm but paused, his mouth becoming a disgruntled line. "Once again blocked by drying paint- don't worry, I stopped myself before I ruined your helm," He slipped a few fingers under to scratch at the back of Red's neck, "S'a real good look, big servo-print right on the top of your helm. An-and then" Salvo laughed, "And then I'd slap it right on  _ my _ helm- or, is aft plate better? Big red servo right on my rear end. Wonder what people would think..."

Yeah this was... this was good. Things could be so much worse but they weren't- and Red was making quick progress because of it. He hummed something happy and gently lay his other servo on their shoulder.

.

Spade had smelled the high grade before they ever tasted it and, in preparation for the very quick inebriation, took a small sip. They let out a long ex-vent and sat back on the wall with a slight smile on their face, "S'good Duo! I-  _ mmm, _ " they went for another sip, this time a much bigger one- they could feel the high grade hit this time, "I like the sparkles. Makes me feel fancy." They gave a wry laugh and curled into themself a bit, they didn't ever really feel fancy anymore, but now was not the time for depressing- that was the opposite of what they were here to do. 

Spade took another long draught and looked over to Arclight, aiming a finger at one of their still-glowing plates, "Non-natural. Big complicated mod so I could do covert surveillance. Can mimic the color of the sky to an extent -course there's nothin much I can do to cover up the sound of four rotors." They leaned their head back to rest against the wall with a light  _ clunk, _ "Got me a camera in here," they tapped the topmost portion of their chassis, "and a processor built to put all that data I could get into maps. Made for zoning the areas just outside Iacon," another significant swig, "the special paint was a gift to myself when I got final word I'd be a Decepticon spy. Made maps for em-  _ sneaky _ maps. Told em where the Autobots were..."

Spade was silent for a moment, swirling their drink in its cube as a pall descended over their expression. They simply watched the glitter make slow-moving clouds when they paused their servo, "I was a good spy, too. Could act drunk in any number of ways but didn't actually let myself  _ get _ drunk until..." They massaged their temples, "I don't know why the  _ fuck _ I'm telling you this. Say, Arclight, how'd you get that winch?"

##  **Betta132** **02/03/2019**

"You joke, but I knew a mech with something of a painting kink, though I suspect it was primarily about the  _ marking _ . Involved temporary paint in interface so it would show everywhere he touched," Focus purred, stretching long and slow, and cocked his helm to study the new details along his own pedes. "And I must say... it's not the most aesthetically pleasing scheme, but the image of a bot looking thoroughly  _ debauched _ , covered in marks from being pawed at and gripped and  _ held _ ... tasty. Not quite the tone in here, though." 

"I should  _ hope _ not," Reaver muttered, setting to work on Red's other pede. "Because I don't particularly want to do that, and I must insist on there  _ not _ being  _ any _ kink in my quarters that I don't plan to get involved in." 

Red giggled lightly, snuggling up closer, then made a bold little move and reached down to grab Salvo's aft. Not flirting, just- grab. Playfully. "Might's well  _ sign _ you if I do that." 

.

Duo wiggled a bit more at the approval, then both spun on one heel apiece, trying to focus away from the two. No grabbing. Except, ohh, shiny- turning back a bit, they climbed on each other to get the fraction closer to Spade, optics wide and servos playing across each other's frame for something to do. "Oh, shiny,  _ nice _ , got whole frame looking fancy. Add glitter? Probably have body glitter here. Looks nice."

Arclight drank slowly, savoring the taste, savoring that they  _ could _ do this. Odd, that there didn't seem to be any cost associated with the drink, but... didn't seem to be one for Spade, either. Maybe it was just... an open bar. Keep people happy. Good strategy. 

Hiccuping lightly, they lifted their helm slightly to eye Spade, shrugging casually and holding the cube close. "Hotspot-born spark. Developed fast. They saw multi-rotary frame starting up, shaped from there. Dock worker- welding and heavy ship repair. Lift the plates into place to fasten. One rotary per job, then heavy builds."

A few moments of silence as they sipped at their drink, then a heavy sigh and a noise almost like a chuckle, albeit with no real mirth. "Overseers saw things coming. Kept shuffling. In place long enough to do a few jobs, then split up. Don't let the crews get close t' each other. Stirs up  _ rebellion _ . Ha! Got stirred anyway," they pointed out, then took a long gulp of energon, optics starting to go a bit over-bright. Blinking drowsily, they stared at the cube for a moment longer, then edged a bit closer to Spade and reached out with just the thinnest bit of their EM field. It was an amount that, normally, one would feel from a stranger a distance away in a crowd, not someone up this close. Quiet, almost timid, cautious, but  _ there _ . A sense of something like comradery. Spade was... something like an impending friend? Was 'impending friend' a thing? Arclight offered them the tiniest smile, then glanced away and down, muttering something like "no fucking clue what the universe is doing now". Politics. Who knew what was happening? Who was winning? There was... a mix of faction badges in the room. Was this standard, or an edge base somewhere, or...? 

Probably didn't matter much. Their old faction badges were long-gone. Nobody knew. They could... try to fake whatever they had to, in order to stay safe here. And there... wasn't likely to be anyone to try to track, was there? The people they'd met before, befriended, were... they had to be dead. 

Everyone was dead. 

Arclight wasn't 100% certain he wasn't dead.

 

##  **Malusdraco** **02/04/2019**

Salvo abruptly straightened up at the servo on his aft and looked down at Red with somewhat of an incredulous smile on his face, "it'd be a good way to practice your  _ penmanship. _ Think I'd come out looking like someone vandalized me," he laughed a bit and leaned over, trailing his servo down Red's arm until he got to their wrist, "and that's a bold move for someone like you," a slight  _ tip tap _ with his pinky against the back of Red's servo. He wasn't about to outright grab anything, nor actually do any of the many things he'd learned they liked- Reaver would probably yell at him and Red'd probably squirm. Simply a gentle reminder that he knew. Point made, he quickly retreated his servo, not that it was particularly uncomfortable to have a servo on his aft, anyway.

"I truly pity the fool who mixes up the permanent paint and the temporary stuff," Salvo said, "Imagine walking around like that..."

.

Spade winced a little bit at Duo's comment, "Still... not feeling great about my frame, yet, guys." They paused and considered their drink for a bit before adding, "maybe...  _ maybe _ later." They squinted their optics and shifted the conversation, "Dockworker... but they- they just modified a protoform? That was you? That sounds unethical at  _ best. _ " They shook their helm and took another sip, "I'm not shy about admitting I'm cold-constructed- s'easier to complain about my frame- got someone to actually curse about it. Fuckin-" they leaned over into their knees, clearly already fairly drunk, "You don't even know how jealous I am of the fact your frame has places to  _ put _ your rotors. It's fun to be built for aesthetic and then  _ break. _ So at least you weren't subjected to... that." 

Spade groaned and drove their face into their servos. They were silent for a few kliks then sighed heavily, "Dockworker... Astrodock? Grav-Gravity-dock? is that... Got a friend who worked on Luna 2, says she was a tugboat for those big ships. S'funny you mention rebellion cause that's her to a T. Should hear her talk about autonomy and-uhh... self- self-actualization? Always knows what to say..." 

Spade pushed their helm further in between their knees and brought a servo up to scratch the back of their helm, "Wonder if she knows... Probably does. Salvo probably told her," They weren't speaking to anyone in particular now, mumbling into the space in between their legs, "Prolly hates me. Now she knows what I did to Sticks." They pulled their helm out and drained the rest of the cube in one go. The warmth of the high grade as it spread through their frame did little to assuage the long-term guilt. That was mistake number one, they'd never forgive themself for that.

##  **Betta132** **02/04/2019**

"Rude," Red declared against Salvo's chassis, but with clear amusement, and squeezed lightly before sliding their servos up to his back. "Prob'ly still know how to write my name."

Reaver eventually finished the base layer, and, after some time for it to set, patted Red's shoulder encouragingly. "Right. Let me see you in alt?" he coaxed, and moved back, shifting everything out of the way to give Red a little space. "You should be fine transforming right here. I'm out of your way." 

Red carefully got up out of Salvo's lap, gaze fixed on where Reaver's voice was coming from, and took a few careful steps forward. Rolling their shoulders, they cycled a long, deep vent, then slid a bit stiffly into their transformation sequence. They wound up as a vehicle resembling, as they'd said, something of a motorized gurney. Streamlined fairly well aside from a flat top, but still rather boxlike. Not exactly the sort of thing one would normally see on a pinup. That was fairly typical in medics, though- they generally had very utilitarian alts. And perfect for surfing on. A quiet rev of a little engine, and Red's headlights flickered a couple of times, then they slowly turned around in the relatively limited space to. Well. Look around. Mostly at Salvo. "Oh. Hi." 

.

"Join the Decepticons! We're frighteningly violent and everybody hates us, but at least we've participated in less fuckery about building new people!" Arclight declared, tone deepening a bit as if repeating someone else's words, and edged a bit closer. Oh, yay. Guilt. One of the less entertaining results of one's drinking. But... some of the words sounded familiar. A pause to eye Spade, then he tucked himself up against the wall, mirroring the position Spade was in, aside from the fact that his helm was at a reasonable height. Another sip of energon, and he lifted his plating slightly, optics brightening a fraction. "Oh. Yeah. The- the genders one. Big fucker. Thought she'd died. Thought everybody'd died." 

Hm. Spade was wallowing. Arclight eyed them for a moment, then dipped a fingertip into the energon cube and flicked a few drops at them, in lieu of actually trying to touch them. Then, and only then, did he realize that he. Didn't really know what the goal was here. Just. Something about stopping them from doing... that thing. Whatever that was. With the wallowing and the semi-upright fetal position that seemed to be wanting to happen again. None of that. Time to be alive and not stuck in a fucking... metaphorical hole. "Be  _ alive _ ," they finally declared, and made a shoving motion at Spade. From far enough away to not even vaguely look like they were going to touch Spade. "Stop with the... that fucking..." a bit of rather drunken gesturing "stop- stop with the making- ttthe fuckin  _ sad on purpose _ ," he complained, and took a large swig of the energon, optics brightening a bit further and field going definitively rather drunk. Still friendly, though, still enjoying Spade's company. But, really, why would- all the things to talk about and Spade was falling down a hole? Stop with that.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/04/2019**

Salvo tried to give Red his best smile, but instead his expression vacillated quickly between affectionate joy and concern. Something about the way the bot turned around -how they stopped at him- hit something deep within him. He knelt down slightly to splay a servo against Red's hood, "Hey, buddy," another try at a smile and this time it stuck, "I don't... I don't know where to point myself at- where your optic...al... sensors are... in this mode but yeah, it's- Hi." He giggled a bit and bent over further to examine Red's headlights, expression considerably more serious, "You- you feeling okay? Just remember you're among friends, here. It's safe." 

.

Spade's wings lifted in slight agitation as they felt the drops of energon slide down their frame. They looked up at Arclight, optics narrowed, then gathered the last dregs of their cube with their fingers to flick some back, "Can't help being  _ sad. _ Think I'm in the running for saddest bot here, though I'm in good company-  _ fierce _ competition." They went to take a drink from their cube and found it was, as it had been a couple moments ago, empty. They stuck their glossa out between their lips and mimed petulantly slamming the cube on the ground before setting it down gently. They gave Arclight another confused look and mumbled, "hold on-you copying me now?"

Spade decided now was the time to try to refill their cube and slowly rolled over onto their front, bracing servos and knees against the ground for a bit. A few moments and they shakily stood up, "sure sounds like Bowline to me- Pit she even convinced me. Made me feel powerful- like I was in control. I still-" they were pulling themself along a countertop now, in the direction of the high grade vats, but paused to look up, expression slightly vacant, "you know it still feels good. That's something positive- should tell Notepad about that- maybe they'll stop lookin-" they tripped on their own pede and fell to the floor with a quiet  _ oof, _ "stop lookin so sad or-nnnn Patches." 

It was floor time now, apparently. Spade wasn't exactly inclined to get up, but spoke up so Arclight could hear them from the floor, "S'Amazing. Small universe. She's-ahh she's still here too. Now  _ she's _ good at bein' alive. She's nice. She once ripped a sandworm in half, too.  S'a big one, too,  _ huge, _ longer'n she was-is. Much longer. I l- I like her."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the chapter where Spade finds the organ-fondling kink.

##  **Betta132** **02/04/2019**

Red flared the flickering lines of bio-lights down both their sides, then  _ woopwoop _ ed their siren softly and shifted their wheels to look around at Forceps and Reaver before turning back to Salvo. "Above headlights. Some above front wheels. Small, simple sensors- minimal color perception," they rattled off, a bit absently, and carefully trundled closer. The wheels puffed out a bit from their size in root mode, giving them large tires with heavy tread, perfect for rough ground. Like battlefields. Trundling slightly closer, they bumped very lightly into Salvo's frame, looking for affection. For contact. This sight was... different. Felt different than their normal optics. Simple, not suitable for surgery. Just to keep them from running into things. Felt... odd, somehow, after being in the dark. Felt like it might give them a bit of a helmache after a little while, since- hm. Optical processing center might already be going into some sort of shutdown. Probably not the best, but... not an immediate concern, so they snugged a bit firmer into Salvo's frame. "'m okay." 

"Ah, that's an interesting one! I've never seen an alt like this. May I touch?" Reaver purred softly, and reached in when some of the plates lifted a bit. Humming idly, he stroked both servos up and down Red's sides, inspecting how everything fit together, how the seams pressed to each other. Details applied without taking this into account would look messy in alt, if you weren't lucky enough. 

.

Arclight snorted and gathered up the droplets with his fingertips to lick, watching Spade do whatever the slag that was. Pleased with the results, too. No more sulking. Just... looking a bit... oof. Definitely drunk. Arclight quietly pondered his own ability to successfully stand, and elected not to try it. Instead, he shifted up onto his knees, then just kinda... slid a pede forward, shifted all their weight onto that, and moved. Not exactly efficient, but it mostly removed having to stand on their legs from the equation of getting around. Once they were close enough, they inspected Spade for a moment, then huffed quietly, took a long gulp of their energon to drain the cube, and stretched out along the floor near Spade. Much closer, this time- partly so they could fit themself up against the bar. 

Duo leaned over the bar top, looking somewhere between amused and concerned, then chuckled and gestured to one of several enclosed booths along one wall. Padded inside, with actual doors and sound-dampening curtains. "Want to lay on floor in closed space? Can have more energon, too, but- less strong. Aim for  _ not _ unconscious yet," they suggested, and vanished back over the bar top to mix something a bit lighter. Spade really wanted to get drunk? Okay. But slower might be better. 

Arclight bushed his plating a bit at having someone lean over him, but relaxed when they moved back, turning his attention to Spade. "Alive. Hm. Good," they decided, propping themself up on their elbows. Which, yes, was... they were copying Spade. Not sure why. Didn't feel like orders, like they were being made to. Just. Like the thing to do. "Wanna. Those. Doors 'r good. The- the fuck you-  _ worms _ ?" 

Bit of a whiplash of subject change, but, wait,  _ fuck _ , they-  _ worms _ the size of- 

Oh. Bowline was alive. Hey. That. That was good.

February 5, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/05/2019**

Salvo noticeably relaxed at Red's confirmation. He gave their hood a long rub then sat down, cross-legged in front of them, looking into their headlights, "How's that? Am I.. looking at you right?" A grin, "Wanna know when I'm looking ya right in the op- optic? These aren't optics I guess." He leaned forward to stroke his servos along the bottom edge of Red's front, "Don't- don't quite know how to cuddle a four-wheeler, either, but fuck if I'm not gonna do my best."

Salvo stayed in front of them but slowly, firmly, stroked down whatever natural creases he could see. He'd never had someone try to cuddle him in alt- didn't know what was good -to say nothing of the fact that Red was a whole different frametype. "So what do you think -are we on for some surfing later or no? And-" he chuckled a bit, "Now you've got a bit of a taste, what do you think of the company? Focus as pretty as you pictured him?"

.

Spade didn't move at the suggestion except to prop themself up on their elbows as well. Didn't want to be upright enough to move over to a booth. They inclined their helm at Arclight, "Wooooooooooorms." Not much else to say there, their mind went still for a moment before another idea hit them. They looked up to where Duo was last, "You got any- any aph-ro-des-i-acs? Not-not gonna use em on anyone- hey! Duo- I need to. Fuck. Replace sad with horny." 

Spade stretched their wings out all the way, flexing the rotorblades, splaying them outward. They tried to lower the arms to the ground and instead ran into the counter on one side and Arclight on the other. The instant they felt  the tips of their rotors brush slightly against his frame they pulled them back, quickly but albeit clumsily, "fuck, sorry. I'll just-" they adjusted the rotor arms so they were vertical instead, pushing their longest remaining rotor blades towards the ceiling, "they wanna be out. You know. You  _ know. _ We're like- we're like kindred spirits you and I. Both got rotors," They gave Arclight a bit of a drunken smile, head bobbing uncontrollably, "Does that make us friends? Dunno how to make friends. We'r all stuck together thousands a years on slag planet, just us and the wooooooorms. S'amazing how much you start to- start to care about the people const-" something between a sob and a hiccup, "constantly saving your aft." Their grin faded and they put their helm in their servos again with a quiet " _ fuck. _ "

##  **Betta132** **02/05/2019**

One more soft  _ woop _ , and Red rocked carefully on their wheels, engine purring softly. "Yeah. Wanna try," they declared, very softly, and didn't move as Reaver stroked over their seams. Only when he gave them a nod did they transform back, and they did so slowly, almost reluctant to do so. Except that, in alt, they couldn't climb into Salvo's lap. Which they did, immediately, pushing their face into his shoulder. "It's dark," they whispered, then cocked their helm slightly and looked up at Focus with the slightest smirk. "Not  _ too _ bad. Seen better." 

Largely ignoring Focus' complaint (probably not serious) of "where? in fiction?", Reaver sat back to look Red up and down, then picked up one of the darker red paints for highlights. "All right- I should be able to get you looking very nice." 

.

Arclight blinked a few times, more focused on words than- ohp. Their armor twitched a bit at the contact, but they didn't really react otherwise, just paused their thought process for a moment before resuming. Mostly it was concern. "Is. Is that. Is- is fuck-drugs now a-a good idea? Tha's. 's that. Healthy?" they managed, trying to look up at Duo, and managed only to bump one of their rotor tips against Spade as they moved.

Duo leaned over the edge of the counter again, then looked at each other, cycling through a range of emotions and both kinda starting back towards their stock before pausing. Some of that was supplies for the experiments going on backstage. And they- well, they  _ did _ have- yes, that could work, but- was it really wise to- 

_ /Distracting!/ _

_ /But drugs- hard to turn off, might upset/ _

_ /But COULD/ _

_ /should??/ _

Ah, the dilemma of knowing they could do a thing, and do it well, but not being sure if they ought to. Was it... was it a good plan to give Spade... that seemed like it could go bad. But it might be better than drunk and depressed. Maybe- what were they planning? Duo looked back down at Spade, contemplative, fingertips taptapping rapid patterns against the countertop. "For what, and where? Not good for walking yet, gonna- maybe not best to get drunk and be" quick gesturing that, from context, probably indicated something flirty "at entire bar? If frame not so good, touch not so good... mmmaybe best not to... gonna get up?"

"That's. Yeah. They got a point. Toys're... not in here," Arclight pointed out, and pushed himself up a bit further, blinking hard. "Uh. Fuuuuck. That's. thaaaaa's strong. Hah. Don't... there- there was a-a party once, I- don't all the fuck-drugs make- make people wann' just- fuckin' stick on everyone?" 

He wasn't communicating it very clearly, but he'd seen people on aphrodesiacs, and they did indeed tend to be clingy. Was that a good idea right now? Probably not! Did Arclight care? 

...they'd have to get back to that.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/05/2019**

Salvo let out a quiet woop of his own in response as Red again fell back into his arms. He held the back of their helm with his servo, gently, stroking his fingertips across the back of their neck. He didn't know how to respond to their comment and sat silently at Focus's retort. He gave a thoughtful "hmm" instead, finding nothing insightful to say. His embrace lasted a few moments longer before he let his arms down, rhythmically tapping his palms against the lower parts of Red's thighs. Finally he spoke up again, "Right! They're looking so good already though, no more splotchy paint!" He smiled, "nice and bright too. Maybe something better to ask later, but what do you think of stopping by Burner's once you're all finished up for a wax coat, huh? Get all nice and shiny. Feels good, she's done it to me a few times so I can confirm. Fuck, she'd be jazzed to see you like this, too. Though I guess it'd be harder for you to appreciate. She could for sure send you some snaps."

.

Spade thought for a moment... and then for another, their processor too inebriated to really, well, process. Did they want to get horny right here and now? The answer was leaning negative. Even in their compromised state they weren't about to whip out their spike and start going at it in public. They squinted with their mouth open for a bit, "No, yeah. Public nudity. Not on my to-do list." They snickered at the half-pun, " _ I'm _ on my to-do list. Something for... later? Patches fixed me up something real nice- and I mean  _ real _ nice." They donned a bit of a lewd smile at the thought, "Patches, he's good. Didn't think I'd like 'im so much at first but s'hard to hate someone who gives you candy. S'not poison! Oh fuck-" 

Spade's optics widened a bit and they turned to Arclight, "You think my friends'll forgive me if I make em some candy? I- I want them to like me again- how do you make them like you?" They looked up to Duo, a hint of distress in their face, "how do you make your friends like you again?"

##  **Betta132** **02/05/2019**

"I like waxes. Smooth. Burner's... a lot, though," Red noted quietly, sliding both servos up to scritch between Salvo's shoulders and at the back of his neck. "Sweet, but... wow. She's. She's a lot. I think I like her," they sighed, tucking themself comfortably up against Salvo's frame. "Mm. She ever calm down?" 

"Oh, I might have to look into that," Reaver purred, field leveling out gentle and soft, practically radiating calm. This was lovely and meditative. He couldn't  _ quite _ emanate calm as well as Patches could, but he got close. "And we should definitely get you a wax. Though probably not in a room with a drain, you might just melt down it." 

.

Arclight muttered something approving against the floor, then propped himself up again, helm cocked, arms shifted so as not to lean his weight over his rotor slots and trap them. "Mm. Uh. Don' know. How. How good's th' stuff? Nhm. I don'. This's a floor. There's people. Lotta people. Wann'. Wann' go" a sharp hiss to disguise the rough hitching of his vents "not- not here, wann' go to- can y'  _ move _ ?" he asked, pushing himself up further, now on his knees and swaying a bit as he stared over towards the booths. "Want. Want you. And also that. How" a gesture to the booth "how do- gotta  _ connect _ ."

" _ No _ chemistry and ovens in drunkenness," Duo declared, quite firmly, leaning further over the bartop to look down at this mess. "Floor is fun sometimes, but not comfy. No carpet around bar. Too many spills. Want help moving? Can get tarp, haul you on- no touching, no walking. Thoughts?"

Arclight swayed a bit, then, carefully, hauled himself up against the bar. He wasn't quite as drunk as Spade, so he could actually stand up, and probably walk, too! Impressive, wasn't it? "Wanna. That? Or. Corners? The- the fluffy- the blankets? I-I don't- there's- it's not-  _ we're _ not-" 

They were starting to cringe a bit, curling in against the bar, staring around at the room. There were people  _ watching _ them, and it didn't feel  _ good _ , it was- there were lights, the room was large and open and didn't have many places to hide, and all they wanted was to fucking  _ hide _ from- 

They wanted to cram themself into the nearest small space, and they- Spade. 

Fuck. 

Staggering around Spade's frame, they slid their pedes apart and braced themself, firmly, a barrier between them and everything else. Not the best barrier, but they existed. "It's not  _ safe _ -"

February 6, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/06/2019**

"Just gotta get a bowl for the Red puddle- it'll be fine," Salvo chuckled, "Honestly I'm surprised she hasn't found you yet, Reaver. She used to get  _ regular _ paintjobs on the way to Exolus-3. Only thing that stopped her on the planet proper was lack of paints. You'd think it'd be the sand." He smiled, "She'd be thrilled to see you, too. Never known someone more in love with meeting new people. She calms down after a bit -just easily excited." Sighing, he stroked his servos down Red's sides, "You can tell something's really wrong when she's quiet."

Salvo cleared his throat and cocked his helm a little bit towards Red, "You also  _ did _ meet her on her way to go frag. I promise horny Burner's not her normal."

.

"Not... sss," Spade turned from Duo to the wall of Arclight. They squinted for a moment as they felt something in their mind slowly trip. Their optics flashed fear. They quickly retracted their wings as far as they'd go with a loud clatter. Did Arclight spot something? What was going on? Why were they standing up? "What do you mean, not safe?" Spade's voice was a strained whisper, "what- did-" Was someone here? Did something happen they didn't see?

Spade pushed themself into the meeting of the counter and the floor and tried to look around Arclight at the same time. They saw... nothing out of the ordinary. Except people. People were staring. At Arclight mostly. Their optics bounced around every part of the room they could see. They began to feel more and more vulnerable as every exposed muscle cable caught the air. They couldn't find it. They couldn't find the threat. Their fans kicked in with a quiet click, "Arclight  _ where is it. _ "

The counter wasn't safe. It wasn't a wall. Spade didn't like being here, but until they figured out what the mech saw-what direction it was in- it would have to do. They found their processor agonizingly slow. They couldn't plan ahead, not like this.

##  **Betta132** **02/06/2019**

Focus chuckled wryly, muttering something about "yes, I'm sure she gets less horny than that", and wadded up the bandaging in his servos to toss it at Salvo. He'd laced it with fabric paint, not enough to stiffen it, but enough to change the color a bit closer to Red's paint. "Try that- it should be less conspicuous." 

"See? He's not completely objectionable," Reaver chuckled, and began to apply the highlighting paint along Red's shoulder. "I'll have to try to find her. Maybe  _ you _ can get yourself a polish, hm? Shine up a bit." 

.

People were definitely staring. Mostly with something like concern, though. After all- Spade was sprawled on the floor drunk and upset, and a stranger, a rather beat-up-looking stranger, was clearly freaking out. What were they supposed to do in response to this? Spade wasn't the hug-to-help type. What was the best thing to do here, hm?

Arclight backed up a bit further, rotors flared and clacking in unease, nearly stepping on Spade. "Too  _ open _ ," they hissed, bristling at nothing in particular, and slowly crouched- turning slightly back towards Spade, as if to pick them up. He hesitated, though- didn't want to grab. Couldn't move them, but Spade couldn't move themself, and they- fuck,  _ fuck _ -

Hm! Bad! Duo glanced at each other, then vanished for a moment into a back room, coming out with two things- a very short cart usually used to haul crates, and a section of rolling privacy wall. Jogging as noisily as possible, they moved up to place the wall mostly between the two upset bots and everyone else, then pushed the cart up in front of Spade. "Shoo, shoo- quit that," they declared, gesturing at the rest of the bar to try and get people to not  _ stare _ , then looked down at Spade. "Is fine! Nobody doing anything. Just drinking. Smooches over there. Spooked bot is spooked at the world. Up on cart, gonna go hide. Go on!" they cooed, Scissors crouching to gesture in Spade's general vicinity. "Go, shoo. On cart. Gotta move."

Arclight glared at them, hissed, and bared his dentae, rotors flaring, doing everything he could to look like he would be unpleasant to touch. A quick spin to face Spade, a hiss of "gotta move, too open, too many people, gotta  _ move _ ", and he whirled back to face the room, starting to pace in quick little back-and-forths with his optics locked on the room. "Fuck. Can't. Can't stay here. Gotta go. Gotta hide, gotta- fuck, how's this many people  _ alive _ -"

##  **Malusdraco** **02/06/2019**

Salvo was quick, and caught the bandage with one servo. He examined it for a moment before gently nudging Red's chin upward, "It's the bandage, not gonna put it on quite yet cause I've gotta feeling we'd just need to take it off again, but let's just see what it looks like." He started from the back of Red's helm, crossed the ends in the front and stretched them back to hold together in one servo, "Kinda obvious across the face but it definitely-" he leaned to one side, slightly turning Red's helm to get a better look, "-definitely blends in  _ better. _ It matches your whole color palette now at least! Looks more like a choice than a covered wound."

Salvo gently unwound the bandage from Red's helm, "See my whole thing about me is that I have nowhere to  _ go. _ Nothin special going on, nobody I'd really need to get all nice for- at least for the moment. Why would I go through all the trouble of making myself up nice if I wasn't about to do something special, yanno? Though..." he trailed off and held the bandage out in front of Red, touching their wrist with his knuckle to signal he was there, "Burner's really got something goin with her servos, don't know what it is exactly, she can really make you feel  _ good. _ Plus warm wax. Just wish I had a good reason." He chuckled a bit, "guess I need to make one, huh."

.

On some level Spade acknowledged what Duo was telling them, but Arclight was still distressed and frighteningly close to crushing them. They couldn't quite shake the feeling something was wrong, either. What they could parse was this: there were far too many people who were far too close. They were beginning to feel more than a little trapped and that wasn't good at all. 

In a rush of anxiety-fueled adrenaline, they pushed themself onto their servos and pedes and kicked themself in the direction of the access door. They managed to fling themself against the door, fingers scrabbling against the edge until they found the handle and  _ pulled. _ The muscle cables on their arm rippled under the stress. The door flung open wide enough for them to dive through at last.

And then they were alone -at least for this moment they were. Sitting in the dark, they could hear the frenzied whirring of their fans. They had enough of a mind now to re-activate their FIM chip and anxiously wait for their thoughts to line themselves up again. A few kliks and their optics widened- they'd forgotten Arclight.  _.:!:. _ They didn't know what to say, couldn't quite figure out how to invite them in. It was dark in here, sure, but there was no people, definitely no people. They commed him again  _.:!!!:. _

This was. Amenable. It wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. But they weren't around a bunch of people anymore. They didn't like the darkness, how it crept up behind them, wordlessly, soundlessly, touched them without servos, wormed its way underneath their plating with its cold fingers. They sucked in through their clenched dentae. They weren't about to do this again- they  _ wouldn't. _

##  **Betta132** **02/06/2019**

"Counterpoint: if you have nothing you are supposed to be doing, there's nothing to stop you from enjoying yourself," Reaver noted, running a long stripe down Red's arm with a ruler-like strip of metal as a guide to keep the edge sharp. The trick here was moving the ruler to keep up with the curve of the armor. "Now- if you have to do any sort of detailing, I highly recommend using guides for these larger areas. The fine details benefit from a freer touch, but shapes with broader brushes look best if you contain the brush somewhat. Really, though, Salvo-  _ enjoy yourself _ . Make it less about appearance and more about pleasure."

Red took and stroked the bandage in both servos, then gathered it up in their servos, ex-vented softly, and nuzzled softly into Salvo's chassis. "It's. It's really dark," they whispered, their voice almost too soft to be heard. "Damaged optics send variable signals.  _ Missing _ optics send no signals. It... gets registered as though the lack of signals is due to no light hitting the optics, and not... no optics to see the light. It. It might fade, eventually. Stop... registering as anything like darkness. As anything. Possibly not. Hard to know, but- presence of- of intact optical sensors in alt can- can interfere with the processor's attempts to- to compensate for lack of sight. Long- long-term studies are rare because long-term  _ blindness _ in- in our species is- is rare," they explained, sounding... something like they were trying to be matter-of-fact, but it wasn't quite working. Their voice was shaking. 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/06/2019**

Arclight flinched hard at the burst of motion near them, staggering forward enough to run into the temporary wall, knocking it over. One servo on the bar for support, they carefully took a step back, then another, helm cocking slightly to get the door into the very edge of their field of view. Shaking a bit, they stepped back another pace, then another, staring mostly at Duo. 

Fuck! This hadn't gone well at all. Still wanted to drink, so much, wanted to pass out on a roof somewhere, that was fun, but, fuck, Spade wasn't on a roof, Spade was in the dark space, and Arclight didn't know if he wanted to be  _ in the dark _ , and he hesitated right at the edge of the door with both servos resting on it. Small space. Confined. Dark. But  _ private _ , and  _ intentional _ , and it was long and not exactly restricted and- 

Arclight  _ hissed _ and snapped at thin air as Syringe appeared right next to him, grasping out at a sudden motion, and found himself in possession of a lantern. Already turned on, radiating a soft light in every direction. 

Oh.

Venting deeply, they pried the door open just enough to slip inside, bringing the soft light with them, and sat-slash-collapsed next to Spade. Curling up into a ball, they tucked their helm down and wrapped their arms over it, protecting their frame, trembling hard enough to make noises against the wall behind them.

Duo vanished for another moment or three, then appeared, slipping the door open just wide enough to  _ hopefully _ be helpful. Mainly by sliding in supplies. First a pair of energon cubes, closed, filled with something  _ considerably _ lighter than the first drinks. A couple of relatively soft tarps, then, with a bit of difficulty, a small berth pad. "Knock for needs!" they chirped, and shut the door fully, leaving the two alone. That wasn't exactly ideal, but, hey, might work! At least they were out of the main room now. Best just... listen for distress noises, leave them alone otherwise.

February 7, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/07/2019**

Salvo motioned for Reaver to stop, expression soft but serious, and gently wrapped his arms around Red. For a while he just held them, frame still, breathing slowly. He hadn't quite figured out how to purposefully project a calming field yet, but did his best with what he knew. When he finally spoke, his voice came out a soft rumble that carried through his chassis, "You know I'm used to being able to turn the light on when things get too dark but I know I can't exactly do that for you. Would if I could." He shifted a servo to slowly stroke the back of Red's helm, "It might be dark but nothing's changed. I'm here. I'm  _ still _ here."

The exercise was recall, not improv. Salvo couldn't help the bitter twinge in the back of his throat at the sense memory of a freshly-rescued Sticks quivering in his arms in the dark. "And I'm not about to go away. Can't just disappear and neither will you," his voice was almost painfully soft as he pushed his cheek against Red's, "I'm here."

.

Some small part of Spade eased slightly as Arclight made it in. Good. At least leaving their new... friend? Companion? Wasn't on their already massively-tainted conscience. As the panic ebbed from their frame it turned into something much more mundane. The shadows from the lantern crawled up their arms, slipped their fingers beneath their armor and waited there. They knew what made them feel better. They knew what needed to happen. They  _ didn't _ know Arclight, though. 

Perhaps that's what made it so appealing to trust them.

By now Spade had gotten the movements down to an art. They sat up, using the light to see, and carefully leveraged their fingers under the armor they wore. They knew now ripping their plates off would only hurt- that they'd regret it later and that they  _ wanted _ there to be a later to regret. Quickly, methodically, they worked, their optics shone, grimly determined in the low light. They took off all they could, laying each piece of armor down with a gentle  _ clink, _ until finally they were nothing but exposed cable, wire, and energon lines. They didn't like the way the shadows curled around their bare struts, nor the faint pulsing glow of energon- their energon, but it was safe. 

Spade pulled their legs in, roping both arms around their knees and leaning over to protect their chassis, and closed their optics. A long vent cycle. Then another. Finally they opened their optics again and watched Arclight. It was another minute or so before they said anything, they sound resigned, "well that was stupid."

##  **Betta132** **02/07/2019**

Reaver, for obvious reasons, looked mildly concerned. Focus, behind him, also managed a concerned expression- but with a bit of a "someone is bleeding to death in front of me and it is messy and I do not know what to do" expression to him. He wasn't good at the whole...  _ emotions _ thing. Or anything related to being comforting. Hm! Fuck! He was just going to pretend not to be here, and pretend  _ thoroughly _ . Pull in his field, set his body language to neutral enough to be overlooked, optics away from everyone in the room. The best he could do to vanish without actually getting up.

Red's vents hiccuped slightly, then they giggled softly and pushed their cheek into his, nuzzling into the offered comfort. "Awful solid to vanish," they managed, sniffling, and snuggled more firmly into him. "Ohh. I'm. I'm okay. The- the contrast, is all. Haven't. Haven't seen any- anything since I... oh,  _ frag, _ that hurt," they declared, servos tightening on his frame. "Adrenaline only. Only goes so far. Doesn't really... doesn't want to- to apply itself to  _ removing body parts _ . Don't recommend doing that."

"I'd imagine," Reaver muttered, and, a bit cautiously, moved in closer. Sitting right up next to the two, he pulsed gentle  _ comfort/reassurance/warmth _ , waiting to see how they responded to him. Would they like some touch? 

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **02/07/2019**

Arclight uncurled a bit at the assorted noises, and froze when they saw Spade- 

For an instant, their field surged something between despair and sheer horror. They'd looked up just in time to see Spade stripping off their chassis armor. For a few long moments, they didn't move t all, then they ex-vented slightly when they realized it was. Hm. 

They didn't know what that was, but it looked... like something other than... hm. 

Brow furrowed, they watched Spade strip, completely baffled but slightly less than concerned. That, and benefiting to some degree from something to watch. This. Huh. This might be okay. Maybe? 

But it was gnawing at them to have. Well. 

Sitting up slowly, they reached out and picked up a piece of Spade's chassis armor, optics flicking from it to Spade's exposed chassis. Fuck. That was. That was all sorts of unpleasant. Spade looked... not quite fine, but... not  _ hurt _ . Not being made to do anything. 

As the adrenaline drained away, they hiccuped once or twice and blinked, then held up Spade's chassis plating. "The  _ fuck _ ," they declared, and moved back even further, putting themself on the end of the berth pad to leave space for Spade. Specifically, enough space for Spade to  _ not _ be touched while on the pad and near some blankets. Spade was probably going to get cold otherwise. That done, they snuggled down deeper, still holding Spade's chassis plating. Turning it over, mostly, testing the latches. Felt okay. "Are you. Okay? We're. We're both  _ plastered _ , but- other than. Than that. And the  _ nudity _ , are you." 

A blink or two, then a sigh, and "you're not. You're not okay. You- you got a fuckin'  _ thing _ ," they declared, shaking Spade's armor at them.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/07/2019**

"Yeah I-" Salvo shuddered, "don't think I will." He slid his servo up to cup Red's cheek and leaned his helm into theirs, "You're here now though. Far past that. If it- if you're hurting right now we can go right now and get some painkillers- actually I can go on my own and grab em from my room, be back real quick you don't even have to move." He offered, and drew back his servo, letting it instead rest on their hip. He pulled away slightly too, facing them as with the casual distance of a conversational partner, "S'gotta be weird, huh, going from no sight to sight suddenly and then back to nothing. I don't think I have the... anything to comprehend that. And from what you were saying, seems like medicine really isn't gonna help much. Seems like medicine's got stuff to learn from  _ you. _ " He began petting their side encouragingly, "All in all, means it's one step at a time. I'll be there as long as you'll have me- as long as you need- and I've got a feeling Reaver's the same. And Focus, too, I'm sure."

.

"Not quite plastered anymore," Spade said. They took the offering and crawled up onto the berthpad, arranging the blanket around their lower half, "Got too spooked and re-engaged the ol' FIM chip-force of habit, not used to actually  _ being _ drunk yet, don't think. Give my system a minute, the post-rapid flush headache's gonna kick in." They sat silently for a bit, watching the lantern, until they looked up at Arclight, at the piece of armor in their servo with a self-pitying look, "Yeah I gotta thing. Not used to having a  _ thing _ either. You think that's bad," they gestured at the plate, "I got in self-destruct mode for a bit," they leaned back and turned towards him, tracing a finger down the still-sore weld mark on their chassis so Arclight could see. Sighing, they turned back to their huddle and rubbed the mark slightly, "Didn't get very far but still." 

Spade continued rubbing, something about it seemed to ease the ache a bit, "One of my  _ favorite _ parts about this whole thing is that I had the mother of all breakdowns in front of  _ Soundwave. _ Can you imagine, of all fucking people." They sighed, "So many parts of it are just so mortifyingly embarrassing, it's almost funny -I'd be laughing if it was someone else." A grimace, "Maybe someday I will. Wouldn't that be nice."

Spade sighed once more and looked up to Arclight, "you alright? Freaked me out back there. Don't blame you though. S'not your fault. You've got a thing too, obviously."

February 8, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/08/2019**

Red pressed in closer, not letting Salvo make any space, and hugged him tighter. They started giggling after a moment, though, when Focus made an odd sputtering noise. "I can  _ hear _ that expression." 

"Do  _ not _ look at me for this," Focus declared, pointing firmly at them both, wings up and flared. "I don't do emotions, I don't do past... whatever that was, and I don't do  _ snuggling _ . If you need scouting or surveillance advice, to have something very thoroughly spied on, or anything to do with a resistance, do let me know. But this? With the" a gesture at all of them "feelings? No, thank you, find someone else. Though. If you  _ must _ ... I can try to get you to someone who can. But I should really not be your target for this, any more than you should seek out Milu to move something heavy." 

Red giggled a bit harder for a bit, then sighed and relaxed, curled up in Salvo's lap. "Thank you. Still want you. Have you for... 's long as I can. Try not t' die." 

After a little while, they settled back a bit- comfortably sitting in Salvo's lap, turning to where Reaver was. "You- you're right there. Hi. I'm. 'm okay. Keep- keep going, I... oh, this. This feels  _ good _ . But I- one thing, Salvo, okay? I. I want to... Burner. Want to- want to figure out how I can- don't need to be able to  _ see _ to wax someone, just- just tell what's not waxed yet. Wanna make you feel good. For. For this. And- and then I- Reaver. Next. Might- might be harder to reach, y' tall." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/08/2019**

Arclight made a weird scoffing noise that sort of dissolved into a sob, then groaned and put the plating down in favor of covering their helm. "Nngh. I got a thing. I got. I got several things. Gotta... biting thing. Touching thing. Door thing. Fuck.  _ Shocking _ ," he declared, starting to look thoroughly drunk again, and waved at the air. "I got like. Five things. Off that guy. Fucker* there went that angry surge in their field again "fucker kept me as- as a-a  _ pet _ , as- fuck, as a  _ battery _ , so he could" he curled up a bit further, fingertips gripping the back of his helm, "could pry me open every time he wanted a  _ boost _ , like I'm a fucking  _ drug stash _ or- or someone's  _ dinner _ , and now I can't just fucking  _ walk through doors _ without wanting to  _ fight something _ , and he's dead but he's not dead  _ enough _ , dear Primus, want him back alive so I can kill him again and make it  _ messy _ -" 

He didn't have intact claws to dig in or paint to scratch, which was actually a good thing at the moment, because otherwise he would have been ripping up the paint across most of his helm. There was a bit of a verbal stress-spiral going on, too, his vocalizer starting to put a background whine into his words from the strain. "Fuck.  _ Fuck _ , I can't just  _ hate _ him and not be able to  _ do anything _ , he's  _ dead _ , can't murder a  _ corpse _ and if I try they are gonna think I'm  _ unraveled _ an' gonn'  _ lock me up _ and if I get locked up again I am going to  _ rip my arms off _ with my  _ teeth _ -"

And then they were cut off by a gag strong enough to just about double them over, and they had to stop speaking in order to clamp their mouth shut. Fuck. They were. What was this? Aside from "unpleasant". Fuck. Curling up tighter, they hid as much of themself as they could, whimpering in the back of his throat and starting to comm Spade again. Much louder, this time, much clearer. Mostly just distress glyphs, not even full words. The sort of thing one usually only saw in bots who'd set up automated distress signals from their radio or personal comm due to not being in any shape to send anything manual. At this point in the war, they were associated with helplessness, with distress, with someone who needed to be rescued as soon as possible. 

_.alert. _

_.ALARM. _

_.I-am-here. _

_.where-are-you. _

_.find-me. _

_.find-me. _

_.find-me. _

_.assistance. _

_.alert. _

_.help. _

_.help. _

_.help. _

_.danger. _

_.alert. _

_.please-help-me. _

_.please. _

_.please. _

_.please. _

##  **Malusdraco** **02/08/2019**

"No snuggling for Focus?" Salvo was about to make a joke but, perhaps that was too mean. Spade, after all, had their reasons (very good reasons) for not wanting physical contact, it was not unlikely Focus did as well, "If you ever change your mind and need a good hug you just find me, huh? Don't deny yourself positive contact because of some kinda self-image thing."

Salvo then turned to Red, a half-grin tugging at his cheeks, "Anyway, you tell Burner you wanna learn something from her she's gonna be over the moon. S'a good idea though. I'm sure with your anatomy expertise and her whole... technique? You'd really be able to work some magic. It'll be fun- it'll be a good time." 

.

Spade's knowing nods stopped quickly. A  _ what _ ? They sat straight up and watched Arclight with horror in their optics. Was... was Arclight eaten alive? Repeatedly? Was-  _ fuck _ \- the scars. This was... a whole new level of fucked up. They still couldn't quite piece things together but it just seemed to get worse and worse the more they found they could comprehend. They'd been right, they weren't prepared for this level of hurt. 

But Arclight needed help. He needed help more than anything and Spade wasn't about to try to get someone else in here- they'd find the passage, and who the fuck knew what Arclight would do. It was, by all means, up to them now. But what could they possibly do, they didn't know.

They were caught offguard by the comms, repeatedly. Almost reminded them of their- an idea. 

_.-Extraction Request Received-. _

It was about the only thing they knew.

_.-Aid en Route-. _

The only thing they wished they'd gotten. 

It seemed stupid almost, there was no aid, it was only them. And they weren't any help. They were egotistical, emotionally stunted, unsympathetic and on top of that, now, a headcase- a very  _ squishy _ headcase. How many years had it been since Praxis had said that? All that time and they hadn't changed- even after the pit that was Exolus-3 they hadn't changed. Everyone else was kinder,  _ everyone _ was more thoughtful now except them. It was by the grace of others that they survived and that alone. What right had they to  _ live _ if they didn't at least try to help. They needed to begin giving back.

Slowly, tentatively, Spade extended a servo in Arclight's direction, palm up. An offer.

##  **Betta132** **02/08/2019**

"Oh, it's nothing to do with the  _ contact _ , it's the  _ affection _ . I don't do  _ affection _ ," Focus declared, aiming a slightly disdainful gesture at all of Salvo and Red. 

"Yes, because the only time you hold someone is if they've just had their dick in you," Reaver muttered, much to Red's giggly amusement. Red seemed to be liking the gentle snarking at each other. 

"Not the  _ only _ time," Focus complained, then huffed and glanced away, smirking slightly as he stood up. "Despite what you seem to think... I am not  _ only _ a valve mech. Do you want" a few steps to get closer, then he leaned in and stroked slowly up one of Reaver's horns, "me to show you?" 

Reaver, as expected, sputtered rather awkwardly, and Red giggled much harder. With a squeak about something to do with handles, to boot.

.

Arclight's vents hitched,  _ hard _ , and they uncurled enough to meet Spade's optics. Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

He didn't move for a klik or so, but, when he did, it was to reach out and take Spade's servo. Squeezing gently, he shifted closer to Spade, curling up, and tucked his face into their servo. Carefully. 

_.Acknowledged. Here. I-am-here. _

Optics shutting, they nuzzled his servo lightly, ex-venting softly, and whimpered the quietest sound of relief. Oh. Primus. "I'm here. I'm  _ here _ . I'm not  _ lying _ . Don't care how much people think they like him. He's" a shuddering vent "he's a- I don't  _ know _ . What. What d'you call someone" a soft, hiccupy vent "who- who makes you w-want to- to scrub out your  _ chamber _ with steel wool? I-I- I can't, and I can't- can't take it  _ off _ . Wish I  _ could _ . Throw it away. Would.  _ Fuck _ ," they whispered, then shifted onto their side a bit, tugging very gently on Spade's servo in an effort to get them closer. Gently, gently, so gently- as gently as they could and still have it be felt. "Come. Come here. Need you to  _ see _ . Please. They never  _ saw _ , he  _ lied _ , I-I need- I need you to  _ see _ . Please. It. It's real. Just. I'm  _ here _ , he wasn't trying to  _ help me _ or  _ convert me _ , he was- ffuck, give- give me a- a what is it, a" 

A blink or two, then an ex-vent and a gesture at the air in general "a crime dictionary. I. I need a  _ word _ for him being a fucking  _ spark vampire _ . An'. An' then I-I want. Get me. Get me a  _ chainsaw _ so I. So I can take him  _ apart _ . But I need. I need you to  _ see _ . I need someone to  _ know _ . Please." 

He looked like his frame wasn't sure if he ought to be crying. There were tears dripping down his face, but his optics weren't sparking, not yet, and the clearest emotion in his field was  _ relief _ . Spade  _ saw _ him. Believed him.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/08/2019**

Salvo cackled, "Careful what you say, Focus, the more you talk about whipping your spike out in front of everyone, the more it seems like you're actually gonna do it." He leaned over to Reaver, eyeing Focus's servo on his horn. Wrapping an arm around the other mech's shoulders, he spoke quietly -but loud enough to be heard by all- right near his audial, "Listen, yanno, if we uhh need to leave..." he was laughing a bit too hard to seem as casual as he'd have liked, "Me an Red can step out for a klik and you and Focus can just... hash this out." 

Salvo let go of Reaver, giving him a firm clap on the back before turning back to Red, "You feel that, Red? The sexual tension?"

.

Spade's optics widened. They shook their helm in disbelief, "Fuck, mech. That's...  _ fuck. _ " They looked away. At least they'd been able to take off their armor when they felt Trail's specter grabbing at their plates but that was... They don't know what they would have done if he'd touched their spark chamber- how much worse it could have been. They'd probably have died by now, whether it was by their own doing or through that bastard's machinations. 

What was undeniable was the electrifying feeling of Arclight's servos around theirs. It elicited a strange mixture of elation and fear. It was impossible to ignore the fact the mech could crush them in one servo- splatter them against the wall without an issue. But there was nothing for him to carve into- nothing for him to secretly trap. Whoever 'he' was, the scum seemed an awful lot like Trail- deceptive, possessive. Their hurts weren't proportional, but similar. Of all the people they'd seen since they found out what'd been done to their frame, Arclight seemed the least likely to try to pull something. And on top of that. It seemed to be working. 

Spade weighed the risks and stood up, shaky on their pedes, optics locked on Arclight's face, trying to ignore their racing spark. With each step they got closer until they stopped, mere inches from Arclight's frame, offering now, their own.

"I believe you," they murmured.

##  **Betta132** **02/08/2019**

Reaver sputtered a bit more, but noticeably didn't try to shove Focus away. It wasn't that he didn't like the attention! He just. Well. Fuck. " _ Focus _ , I am in the  _ middle _ of something and you are being  _ presumptuous _ , what- what makes you think I'm even  _ interested _ in-" 

Focus chuckled and shifted his grip slightly, stroking around the bases of those pretty horns.  "Mostly the blushing, and the fact that I am  _ very _ pretty. Besides... this isn't 'everyone', this is a mech who would probably be glad to do most things I could request, you, who don't exactly seem upset by the idea, and someone who couldn't tell if I stripped naked and started pole-dancing." 

"He has a point," Red noted, servos wandering until they found Reaver's frame, and slid both servos up to knock Focus' grabbing fingertips away. "Shoo. You can have fun with him  _ after _ . We're busy," they declared, smirking slightly as Focus projected exaggerated outrage at them. 

Focus fake-glared at Red despite them not being able to see it, stroking Reaver's horns from base to tip, and purred when Reaver squeaked helplessly. "Fine. By the way, Salvo- you wanted to know what a bottom is? It's this." 

"Oh,  _ hey _ , I'm. Okay, no. That. That's hard to entirely dispute," Reaver decided, very softly, and gently squirmed away from Focus'... admittedly very nice attentions. Okay. That. That was more tempting than he would have liked to admit. Might be worth some consideration later. Operative word being  _ later _ . "Okay- I am working on this. I am not... going to get myself distracted, thank you,  _ Focus _ ."

.

##  **Betta132** **02/08/2019**

Arclight didn't dare touch. Not most of Spade. Definitely not. Didn't want to hurt them. So, very slowly, gently, he gathered up their other servo by the wrist, moving to press both of their palms to his chassis. That was it. They just... wanted to feel someone touching them, the marks, without intent, without anything other than  _ realization _ . That was it. That was... 

They still wanted the dictionary and the chainsaw, but their focus had narrowed to nothing but the confines of this corridor. So they held Spade's servos there for a few long moments, against the freshly-welded patches, then lowered their servos away. No touching anywhere but servos and wrists. That. Most people were fine with that, right? And Spade had offered, it was... it was probably fine.

Their field settled and just about ebbed away, their plating relaxed, and they ex-vented in a long, soft sigh. Oh. "Thank you," they ventured, then reached out slightly and held their servos either side of Spade's shoulders. With a decent gap, though- definitely not trying to touch. "You're. You're fuckin' tiny. Holy shit, who- who's- who allowed this? Why's. Why's you tiny. Fuckin. Gonna. Gonna  _ break _ if anyone grabs you too much. How's. How're y' alive?  _ Tiny _ ," he repeated, but softly, looking... somewhere between fascinated and worried, mostly. He hadn't grown up around minibots. He knew they existed, sure, he'd met a few, but not for very long. Mostly they hadn't survived a lot of the war-type troubles. Spade, Primus, poor thing. "Gonna. Y' so little. Wanna- wanna come up 'n- I'm- I'm  _ not _ gonna grab, gonna- I  _ won't _ , you get- you get whatever, but do you- I-I got armor," they commented, helm cocking slightly, and sat back a little bit. "Do. Do you want to get closer? I can. I'm a decent. Prob'ly not the worst wall," they reported, hiccuping slightly, tears still dripping down their face. Emotions were happening. Not that they were really noticing, they were more focused on being concerned about Spade potentially getting broken. Or tripping over something and cracking a strut.

February 9, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/09/2019**

Salvo watched the whole situation with an amused expression. Leaning in closer to Reaver, he pretended to look intrigued, "huh, a bottom. Burner doesn't act like this, though..." He reached out a finger close to one of Reaver's horns but paused before he touched anything, "you got sensitive horns, Reaver?" Now that everyone else seemed to have gotten a feel, he was curious, plus there was something about Reaver's body language that seemed... seemed like he liked it. 

Salvo had been paying such close attention to Red, it didn't occur to him that other people in the room might benefit from some positive contact as well. Did Reaver look like he  _ needed _ cuddling? No, not nearly as much as Red did, but perhaps... He made a decision to take the first move and shifted his seat to lean on Reaver. 

.

Spade's servos were still against Arclight's chassis -against the frighteningly-new weld marks. It was an exercise of trust, they realized. The feeling of gratitude took their breath away, they'd nearly forgotten what it felt like. They pulled away as soon as he let go, knowing well the awful sensation of too much contact and given their state they weren't about to push their luck. For a moment they ignored Arclight's questions and leaned over to get a closer look instead. There was a reason why they hadn't seen Arclight around before, those welds couldn't have been older than a couple days.They stood up and took a step back to look into his face, "Those are... probably gonna ache like slag. Rubbing em helps but heat is better." 

Spade paused, and considered, then carefully sat down on the berthpad and leaned against Arclight's front. They kept their rotors tucked close against their back, out of the way and simply sat there, secretly praying the mech wouldn't get the sudden urge to throw them across the room, "I'm -yeah I'm small." They said, "Built that way, can't exactly change it. Scribe-class frame, not made to really defend myself whatsoever. Think the only reason why I'm still here is..." they couldn't say 'friends,' now could they, "the good will of the people I betrayed."

##  **Betta132** **02/09/2019**

"Oh, yes, fine, around the base, but it's- it's the  _ suggestiveness _ , not- I'm- oh, get off," Reaver declared, directing it up at Focus, aimed a gentle elbow at him, and sputtered when he declared "gladly" and squeezed Reaver's horns before letting go. "Yes, they- they are sensitive to some degree, but not  _ that _ type. Most of the time. You're welcome to touch, if you'd like," he purred, and leaned down slightly to offer his horns. "Go ahead. I. Really don't mind. Being groped as an example, I mind slightly more." 

"Burner is shameless enough to not get flustered as easily, I'd imagine. But... given the right circumstances, I suspect she'd do something similar," Focus mused, occupying Reaver's chair again in order to lounge comfortably. "It's a matter of... personality type. You don't always see someone's nature in berth when they're somewhere else, but... if someone tends to sub, and they'll at least  _ tolerate _ you, you can generally get them to show you. Though I should probably stop doing that before he gets wound up too far to do anything constructive." 

.

Arclight's field quivered something indistinct at the contact, and they shifted to settle their arms on the pad around Spade. Not touching, at least not any more than they already were, just... protecting, shielding, as much as they could. They didn't speak for a few moments, but when they did, it was a bit slurred and definitely relatively calm. They just sounded drunk, not drunk and horrifically traumatized. "I can't read, much. Didn' need me to. Only needed th' sup'rvisor t' be able t' read. Mos'ly jus'... words f' things y' see on crates. Y'know? Or. Y' don't. Y' did... word things, I guess? That's. Tha's what th' scribes do. Words. Then all th' li'l ones started... doin' spy things. You did... spy things, hm? At- at people. Lotta spies got...  _ shot _ for spyin'. If. If you're alive, and they're alive, and they're here... an' they ain't shot you yet, they mus' not be too pissed." 

A pause, then a hiccupy laugh, "or they  _ are _ an'- an' you can use them li'l servos t' fix my welders, an' I can... weld all th' doors shut. An' we can live in here. You ever eat a rat? Not- not that bad!" they declared, then, slowly, lifted their servo off the pad. They didn't try to touch Spade any further, not yet. "Can. Y' gonna get cold. Can I... put the blankets around y', and... maybe servos, some? Not gonna. Won't grab. Won't shove you 'round or... anything. Just. Wanna  _ hold _ . Is. Is that okay? Don't wanna. Don' wanna be a. A fuck. Wanna be nice."

February 10, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/10/2019**

"I see," Salvo murmured absentmindedly in response to Focus. He was too distracted by Reaver's horns, having now been given permission to touch. He cupped the back of one in his palm and slowly swept upward towards the tip where he tapped a finger. He cocked his helm a bit and tapped again, a little lower, "Not as sharp as I'd expected," he drew his servo away and grinned a bit, "could still probably get someone pretty good though."

Salvo reached out again and began to simply pet the top of Reaver's head, taking care around the bases of his horns. He angled his helm in Red's direction to talk to them, "Maybe when we get over to Burner's I'll just act like Focus and we'll see if she'll cave- don't quite think so but... could be funny."

.

Spade looked somewhat incredulously up at Arclight, more kindness than they'd expected from a stranger -definitely more kindness than they deserved. They leaned over to try to grab the blanket themself but found they couldn't quite get a good grasp on it from where they sat- and they weren't about to get up. There was something comforting about the contact and it was different than with Five-Alarm. Arclight was... they knew they weren't about to try to grab them or fix them or anything. The mech was... they were safe. 

Spade lay back and even nudged themself a bit further into Arclight's frame, "I... yeah. I'd... like that," a pause, "you're pretty warm too." They sighed, "And thank you. I don't... quite know how to be nice- how to be helpful. You're gonna have to tell me- let me know how I can help you. I do wanna help- wanna be a good person." They fell silent for a while, thinking. "Could teach you how to read. You wanna learn? Though, word of advice, don't... don't get into spy stuff. Spies aren't meant to live- meant to die, or be found out and die, before they really get to the guilt." 

Spade shook their helm and looked down at their servos, "Wish I hadn't. Ended up catching someone I really cared about up in something terrible and the worst part is they're still alive to deal with it. Still don't know how to tell em- the rest found out just a little while ago, which is why I haven't been shot yet." They steepled their fingers in front of a resigned grimace, "S'not outta the realm of possibilities yet." They looked up to Arclight, attempting to meet the other's optics even at the low angle, "If it comes to that don't get in their way. I deserve it. Last thing I need on my tainted spark is someone else getting hurt cause of me."

##  **Betta132** **02/10/2019**

"I don't keep them too sharp if I don't expect battle. But, yes... they do make viable last-resort weapons," Reaver hummed, tilting his helm slightly to push his horns more firmly into Salvo's servo. "Mm. Go on- you aren't about to do anything, ah, untoward." 

Red, curious, stroked up the lengths of Reaver's horns with both servos. So  _ smooth _ , nice, subtle curves. "These are pretty, aren't they?" the little medic hummed, turning up towards Salvo, and cocked their helm slightly in sudden realization. "Keep... turning t' look at people, t' talk. Wonder if that's gonn' change." 

"We'll find out, I suppose," Reaver hummed gently, rubbing his horns into Red's servos. It felt nice! He moved his face away after a moment or two, though, so he could get back to his work. "You're all being terribly distracting. At least let me get this evened out so your sides aren't  _ mismatched _ ," he declared, shifting Red around slightly to more easily reach their shoulder. 

.

Arclight's field flickered something soft, gentle, and grateful, if tipsy, and they moved to pull up some of the blankets. Tucking them around Spade's frame, they added an arm to the wrappings, giving a soft, gentle squeeze before loosening their grip. Relaxing enough to let their arm drape gently into Spade's lap, he curled slightly around the smaller frame, their engine giving the shakiest little purr. Not for too long, though, then they sighed and lightly patted Spade's flank. "Don' know what t' do 'bout that. There... th' was a war. People do. Do a lotta stuff in wars. I did stuff in th' war. Killed some people. Wouldn't've, 'xept... 's a war. Gotta... gott' do things." 

After a moment's thought, he nodded slightly and almost-purred. "Yes. Wann' learn to read more. Knew a guy who... 's probably dead, but he... always said he wanted t' write a history book after all it was over. Somebody's gonna. I wann' read those an' make sure they- they write it  _ right _ . An' they didn' shoot ya. If- if they were gonna, prob'ly would. You. You wann' ask 'm if they wann' shoot you?"

##  **Malusdraco** **02/10/2019**

Salvo politely retreated his servo as Reaver pulled away, instead using it to softly chuck Red under the chin, "isn't that a good thing? Polite, makes it easy to hear you. You're so softspoken I'd say you should  _ try _ to look at the people you're talking to, makes you much harder to ignore. Your words are worth hearing," he sat back a bit to give Reaver some room to work, "of course, don't you science-types do experiments? Far be it from me to suggest you try to alter results."

Not that he knew much about science, or experiments. Most of what he did know had been yelled at him by one minibot or the other for stepping in on something. Though he wasn't sure Sticks's "experiments" qualified as much more than an excuse to keep pets.

.

Spade began to relax considerably under the blankets. They let out a long ex-vent and leaned into Arclight's arm. It felt undeniably good to be near someone again, not in the least because the blankets warmed up quick. "S'probably gonna take a while to learn to read," they said, optics half-lidded, "don't think I'm the best teacher either, but I'll do it. Might not be much to read now all things considered but at least you'll be able to spit in the face of that supervisor way back when. Like 'ha! Fuck you I can read now!'" They gestured aggressively at the thought with a servo gripped around a bit of blanket, "spite's good. A good motivator. If I can do it spiteful, I can do it. S-uh," they paused, "It's probably something you could make work for you too."

Spade shook their helm and sat silent for a while. They spoke quietly, "Problem is, people don't tell you they're gonna kill you. They just- try. You can ask em as much as you want and they'll lie. Or they'll tell the truth but change their mind later," a long, resigned sigh, "I've already asked some of em. They seemed to want me around but I don't- I can't tell. Used to think I could- not anymore." They were quiet for a few moments more, optics in their lap as they held the blankets tighter to their frame, "If... if this is all some elaborate setup so that someone could fuck with me and then kill me," their voice was wavering now, "P-please reconsider. I'm- I know I deserve it. I've learned my lesson."

Spade wanted to trust someone  _ so bad. _ Every fiber in their frame wanted some semblance of safety. But they knew this made them even more vulnerable. Arclight seemed so genuine, but they'd been fooled before and it cost them everything. Was the mech playing them like the sad, desperate, little thing they were? They didn't know- they couldn't tell. They'd pulled the helpless bot act before, when things'd gotten just rough enough to need it, and it'd worked. They hadn't done so genuinely, before, though. It was the only thing they had left to cling to -the idea that maybe being truthful would save them this time.

##  **Betta132** **02/10/2019**

"Might be hard to write down my results," Red mused, shifting towards Reaver to touch him a bit more, and bumped their helm lightly into him. 

"You need a voice-to-text function on a 'pad. And possibly some sort of... hm. I wonder if someone on the ship has a way to make a... textured 'pad. Perhaps something to do with hard-light or holoforms," Reaver commented, stroking Red's back for a moment before moving back to paint. "Hm. You know- I should do the outlines of these areas for you to fill in, Salvo, that should be much quicker. Grab that spare brush?" 

.

Arclight made an odd little scoffing noise,, brow furrowed, and grumbled as they carefully scooted closer to Spade. "Hn. Th' fuck kinda people y' been... no, th' fuck? 'm I- fuck?" they asked, cocking their helm, optics narrowed and field starting to churn a bit. "You- no? Not- not a fuckin'... not a  _ that _ . No. Not. Not fuckin'... no! Stop it," he scolded, attempting to glare up at Spade. It didn't work terribly well, this was a terrible angle, but they did give Spade a gentle squeeze. Well. It was intended to be gentle. Didn't  _ quite _ work. "I. Do not. If- if I wanna- wann' kill someone, jus' gonna... go 'n  _ do _ it, or- or finda gun 'n get 'em, not... fuckin'... fake-friends an' emotions, not- not a fuckin'- you- you know them- the sticky plants that grow next t' mercury? They- they look all pretty, an' then they- they's  _ sticky _ an' they  _ grab _ somethin' and go all... poison. Nasty. I'm not a fuckin'... those! Imma- imma  _ knife _ ," he declared, smacking his servo against the berth pad for emphasis. "Imma- if I wann' do somethin, I fuckin. I do it. So. No. Not gonn' kill you. Unless you. I'unno. Try an' stab me or. Or what. No- no stabbing." 

Curling up tighter, he nuzzled his face into Spade's flank, hugging them gently. "Y's okay. 'm not. Not gonna. The- the fuck who-" a pause, servo lifting slightly to touch one of Spade's armor latches, "who  _ this _ ? I am. Am gonna. Real specifically gonn' do  _ none of that _ ," he declared, and pulled the blankets up more, enough to cover Spade. Vents kicking up higher, he let all the vents along his chassis flare open, billowing heat against the small, vulnerable frame pressed to him. Hopefully he could get and keep Spade warm.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/10/2019**

Salvo sat up abruptly, visor brightening as he was called upon, "Oh -sure!" He leaned back to grab a clean brush, sorting through several dirty brushes in the process, then laboriously pulled himself back up and waited for Reaver to finish outlining a section, "Once again I'd say we could talk to Spade about rigging you up a special datapad- but once again you gotta specify you don't want them to put in a feasible vibrator-" He paused to reconsider and shrugged, "You know that was a joke but who am I to say that's a bad idea. It'd get your 'pad all nasty real quick though."

Salvo waited patiently for Reaver's call, twirling the brush between two fingers with a surprising level of dexterity. Once the boundaries were set, he leaned in a bit closer and finally dipped the brush in the paint -careful to not get too much this time. Before his brush could touch Red's plate he paused, "Sure you trust me not to mess this up, Red?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/10/2019**

Spade shivered a bit as they felt something shift in their shoulder at Arclight's rather aggressive hug. He was gruff, unpolished- well  _ drunk _ \- and not the brand of confident they'd known from the assassins they'd met. They were silent for a moment as they felt the warmth from the bot's vents wash over them. Every sensor in their stripped frame began to ache as they tried to stem the overwhelming feeling of  _ safety. _ Finally they gave up and curled into Arclight's stomach. Drawing the blankets close around them, they murmured, "I like knives. They're direct- get to the punchline. Personal, too. Can't be sniped by a knife. Don't have mine on me, they took it away cause I threatened somebody- threatened Soundwave with it." They snuggled in a bit further, "When I get it back I'll show you it. It was-" they smiled a bit, "It was the last thing that fucker left me, gift-wrapped and everything straight into my back. My knife now, bitch."

Spade's field began simmering something spiteful, "His codename was Trail. He was my 'handler' of sorts. Played himself off like some kinda dunce, shame on me for believing that at face value. Had some kinda weird obsession with me, then stabbed me, got caught and exiled and died out in the sand." Their wings twitched in passion but didn't move too much under the pressure of the blankets, "Jokes on him I survived the stabbing, I survived what he did to my frame,  _ and _ I got his fucking knife. Wish I could get the chance to kill him again- I'd pry out his optics and make him eat them- with that same exact knife."

Spade settled down a bit and shifted, tentatively letting their helm lean against Arclight's lower chassis, then did something they hadn't done in a very long time. A tiny motor sputtered to life in their frame- a quiet monotone hum, recognizable by drone-mechs as the closest thing they could get to a purr. "You're nothing like him, I suppose," Spade said quietly, "he always had this saccharine 'I could never do something bad' tone. Too personal- too touchy. Hated him  _ before _ I found out what he did to me." They fell quiet for a bit then spoke a little gentler, "I think I like you Arclight. I want to... to trust you." A little bit of spite ran through their field, "tell you what, swear to Primus, if I ever figure out how to resurrect people, we'll do your guy first so you can kill him as many times as you want. Then I'll have a few goes- really wanna give that fucker a piece of my mind. After you've had your fill, we'll get mine."

February 11, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/11/2019**

"I'd have a hard time escaping," Red commented, field flickering to make it clear they were kidding, and settled comfortably against Reaver. "Go ahead. Feels pretty good s' far," they decided, then, helm cocking, "...why would... vibrators make bad multi-tools. Bot has a hyperfixation. I don't need vibes in... anywhere except, ah. Conventional places. I think... Blackspark has some in his frame somewhere." 

"His fingertips," Reaver supplied absently, then paused and blushed, hastily correcting himself. "-not in any particularly  _ intimate _ manner! Not- not exactly that I'd mind! He was. Ah. Showing off in the bar last week. And he made vague mention of some in more, ah. Personal areas. Which seems, ah- practical! Anyway. Salvo, you needn't worry about messing up. I've given you wide borders, so as long as you pay attention, you should be able to cover the inside area well enough with minimal difficulty. If you do manage to get outside the borders, let me know, I'll trim that out. But, really, Salvo- you are better at things than you seem to think." 

.

Arclight listened, field prickling rather angrily, and growled quietly when Spade was done. "Ah. Tha's why. Fucker. No  _ wonder _ ya messed up," they declared, but, oh, it was hard to be angry, not with Spade curled against them. Too drunk to focus, they blinked a couple of times and thought, then hummed quietly in intrigue. "Soundwave? Sneaky fuck. Him, I-I might wann' be like, a l'l bit. Wanna be that quiet. See lots of things. Don't wanna be like yours. That's. That's. Fuck. Uh. Tha's more like  _ Fail _ than  _ Trail _ . Uh. Shit. Tha's not good," they muttered, and attempted to look down at Spade. It didn't work well. "See- if I could read words, I could- could read a-a dictionary of words and find ways t' mock him. If. If I had a dictionary. I don't got that. I bet  _ Soundwave's _ got that. He's got. Got alla things." 

They weren't really able to focus on much at this point, but Spade was curled against their frame, talking about something soft and sweet, and Arclight actually sniffled a bit. "I. I think I trust you some. You. You aren't doin'... things. No. No  _ mocking _ . Tha's good. I'm. I'm not feelin' good. Except this. This's... really good. Y' really good," they whispered, then  _ smiled _ , starting to purr louder. "Y' purring. Haven't. No one's. No purring around me for. For so" a soft hiccuping noise "so  _ long _ . You got- y'  _ fighty _ . But. 's okay. No. No fighting now. Jus'. Purring. An'. An' no zombies! I. I've seen those. They" a shudder "-ughk. They're bad t'. Anything. Just. Purring," they declared, and their engine kicked up another few notches, made a whining noise from exertion, and dropped back down to the pleasant purr-noises. "Thank y', tho."

  
  


##  **Malusdraco** **02/11/2019**

Salvo let out a careful ex-vent and began, pulling careful strokes in from the border, "Spade is much less of a deviant than I make them out to be- they do say things sometimes that make me question it, though," He chuckled, "You know you could say many things about Blackspark and I'd believe you- mech has vibrator fingers, now? Wonder how his sex life's gonna change now he's got a baby runnin around. How're you supposed to get into that mindset when you've got a tiny, cute, very distracting, thing clinging to you."

Salvo fell silently into the rhythm of painting again. It felt good to have something productive to keep his servos busy. He paused and pulled away to let out a loud cackle. "You ask me where I put my vibrator, sir, it is right here," he said, pushing a finger against his crest, "it's definitely  _ very _ useful."

.

Spade pinged something amused at the joke. It wasn't a very good joke in any sense, no, but the intention sparked something warm inside them. They just sat there for a bit, purring as best they could into Arclight's frame, "Nothin to thank me for, all I've done is... freak out, complain about myself, and lead you into a place where you freaked out. Haven't done much constructive at all." They sighed and leaned their helm more into the other's side, "if anything I should be thanking you. Saw the way you stood in front of me in there. I appreciate that." They could easily see themself falling asleep here, warm, secure, another being to keep them company, but knew realistically that wouldn't end well- waking up next to someone they didn't entirely know. "I wanna actually do something for you. Said something earlier about your welders, can I see?" They said, pushing their servos out of their blanket nest and holding them out. 

"I'll vouch for you to get a chainsaw- got an in with the medics- and I can find you a dictionary, no need to go to Soundwave for that," Spade said quietly, "but you've been nicer to me than I deserve- just a thank you and some promises isn't enough for gratitude." They paused, and then added, "I wanna get better, and I want you to get better too."

##  **Betta132** **02/11/2019**

"People with sparklings generally hand them off to someone else with some degree of frequency," Reaver explained, outlining an area down Red's back. "Sparklings are precious little things, but terribly inconvenient. You're doing well, Salvo, that's it. And. I'm sorry. You have  _ what _ in  _ where, _ exactly? That... seems like a good way to rattle one's processor into misalignment," he commented, looking somewhere between slightly concerned and fairly intrigued. "And. Possibly not comfortable." 

.

"I like  _ this _ ," Arclight commented softly, giving Spade a somewhat more measured squeeze. He was curled up on something soft (thank Primus) with a little bot pressed to his chassis, and it was  _ comfortable _ . Warm. He felt... well, drunk, still, but surprisingly safe. No one was looking for them, as far as he knew. Plus, this corridor echoed- they'd be able to hear it if someone was coming. 

And then, oh, they  _ liked _ that. Their welders? Yes, please. Please and thank you. It felt like a  _ much _ better idea now, which, though they didn't realize it, was probably because they were very drunk. But, yes, please, and they shifted a bit to put their upper arm in Spade's lap. Their arm plating clicked gently and expanded out, showing a well-protected channel with a thick wire inside, though it didn't open up quite as much as it should have. "Lotched. Uh. Locked. In- in there, wedged, so's I-I can't  _ reach _ . Gotta. Gotta fix the wires. Gotta make it so's it opens, then- then plug the wires. See- fuckin' li'l  _ bits _ ," he complained, prodding around the edge of where the plates were supposed to expand further. There were, indeed, tiny weld marks glued into the shifting mechanisms. A delicate tool of some sort could probably pry those out, but Arclight didn't have a delicate tool. "Fucker cut m' claws off so's I can't get 'em. Gotta. Gotta prop'ly grow those in," he complained, and rightfully so. At least the grinding down had been precise enough to not damage his fingertips. Part of disguising it as something for  _ his own good _ . Ugh.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/11/2019**

Salvo laughed, "Hypothetical!  _ If _ I was gonna get a vibe installed somewhere -which I wouldn't, I don't think, don't have a use for one- I'd choose my lil- helm thingy. One, because it's the most conspicuous thing on my whole frame-" he was counting with his fingers, "and two because- well, let me just show you what I was thinking."

He sat up straight, angling his pauldrons up the same way he'd seen Burner lift her winglets when she was horny and cleared his throat. He paused for a moment to set his character right, and began, "Good evening sir, can I interest you in a valve-blasting today?" his voice was a bit lower, taking on an exaggeratedly refined air, "Excellent then, open your legs if you would." He tapped his crest twice and made a low humming noise in his throat before bending forward, away enough from Red so as not to hit them, and bobbing his helm as fast as he could. He lasted a few kliks before he was laughing so hard he had to stop. He roped an arm around Red's waist to keep himself from falling over backwards. Once he collected himself, he sat upright once again and turned to Reaver, leaning a flushed cheek against a dry area of Red's shoulder, "I mean the helmache would be massive but the  _ comedic value. _ "

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/11/2019**

Spade frowned and pulled their upper bits out of the blankets so they had better movement. They took Arclight's servo in both of their own and leaned forward to examine their fingertips- they hadn't noticed them before, but it was possible to see the ground edges. Didn't like that. They grumbled something along those lines and turned their attention to the stuck mechanism. It was massively difficult to see in the dark, but they got the gist of it through the shadows. They were still looking when they raised an unoccupied servo. There was the light click of an internally triggered mechanism finally being exposed to the air and Spade paused, optics narrowing as they turned to investigate. Right. Armor's on the floor, no secret compartments in their muscle cables and struts. They tried to probe the mechanism with their finger, not really expecting much and discovered that yes, their short, flat fingers were still worthless for getting into tough spots  _ unless. _

Spade looked up at Arclight, "Need you to keep still, my fingers are  _ massively _ delicate." They carefully extended their second set of digits, which took armor from the first set and allowed all of their fingers to extend just a little more- perfect for typing and seriously freaking people out. They reached as many fingers as would fit under the lip of Arclight's arm compartment and felt around for the blockage. Their optics lit up as they felt something relatively smooth compared to the rough moving parts. Carefully, carefully they maneuvered two digits around the wegde and tried to leverage it out, only to find their fingertips slipped off at the last second. They sighed, "fuck, alright, not as simple as I thought. I've got a pick hidden away in my arm-plate over there that should be able to get it out," Spade leaned over to attempt to grab their armor but stopped and looked up at Arclight, preoccupying themself by stroking from their palm to their fingertips "uh- are you okay with tools?"

February 12, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/12/2019**

Red more or less got the idea of what was going on, and immediately dissolved into giggles, shoulders shaking hard as they nuzzled their face into Reaver's frame. Ohh no, Salvo, what the fuck? "Are you okay," they managed, patting his cheek, and giggled a bit harder. 

Reaver, meanwhile, covered his mouth with one servo and made a Face. It wasn't terribly distinct, somewhere in the vicinity of amusement and concern. "That's. Oh my. I'm. Not sure how many takers you'll get," he declared, chuckling lightly under his breath despite that. "Oh my. Really- what in the  _ world _ , Salvo? That's not going to work, ah. Terribly well. I don't think. Oh, no, that's. Going to get someone rather. Sore. Please don't." 

Focus, in the background, had covered his face with both servos and was...  _ probably _ laughing too hard to speak. It looked like silent laughing. 

.

Arclight twitched slightly at the  _ click _ , but it was too soft to be too much of an issue. Their optics went wide at the sight of Spade's extra fingers, but he did hold still, aside from the intrigued clicking of all rotors not attached to that arm. "The fuck's  _ that _ , you got  _ fingers _ in y'  _ fingers _ , what" they muttered, cocking their helm slightly to eye the extra digits better. "Huh. People's...  _ got that _ ? Fuckin' cool." 

Oh. Tools? Arclight narrowed their optics in the general vicinity of Spade's armor, but still didn't move away or try to hide. "Hn. Don' like... pokey bits.  _ No _ cuttin' things, an' I don'... ah, fuckit. I wan' my things more'n I wan' not tools. Get them tools," he decided, flexing his servos slightly against the air. "Get. Get grabby bits, too. Got, uh- got no stable bits. Gotta. Gotta plug 'em back in. Yeah? Servos all. Fucky. Still drunk!" he declared, and squinted at where the armor was trying to unfold. "Gots a wedge keepin' the welding parts in, too. Fuck."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/12/2019**

"It'd be a Salvo specialty!" Salvo crowed breathlessly, "And I'll have you know it's a  _ very _ good idea. I know how interface works!" He laughed into Red's shoulder one more time before letting out a soft "alright." Straightening up once again, he re-wet his brush and returned to filling in Reaver's outline. It truly was not as difficult as he'd expected, it turned out, and the work went quickly. 

As soon as Reaver had finished with the next area, Salvo moved on. Unable to really keep himself quiet for long, he changed the subject, "Anyone know when the next planned landing is? Getting a little stir-crazy."

.

Spade gave Arclight a confident look and undulated all the digits on one servo where he could see. For many, 'alarming' meant 'dangerous' meant 'I'm gonna grab at or try to get away from the strange thing that's freaking me out.' After finding out what happened to Sticks, especially, they were very wary of someone freaking out and destroying their servos.  _ But _ they absolutely could not resist showing off when given the chance. Another full-fingered flex and they folded their secondary fingers back into their palm, "built for typing. I can type faster than most people can speak -faster than some can  _ think. _ " 

Spade leaned over Arclight's leg to wriggle out of their blanket nest but winced hard halfway through. Stumbling out onto the other side, they looked down at their abdomen, they found  _ something _ pushing out against their muscle cables, stretching them along its edge. A faint energon-colored glow spilled out from the split in the cables. Spade swayed on their pedes but stayed upright. This wasn't the first time an organ had decided to pop out during their armorless times. They leaned forward a bit and pushed a finger against the bump until their fuel tank slid back into place. A shudder, followed by a deep breath, and they turned around to go retrieve their arm plate.

Spade was a great deal more careful as they returned with the plate, making sure not to put weight on their stomach area at all when they crawled back into Arclight's lap. They nestled into the blankets again, wrapping as much as they could around their shoulders before turning their attention to the plate. Reaching inside, they tripped an internal mechanism and a small compartment popped open. Inside was an array of lockpicking tools, and an awl with a thin handle. They pulled the compartment out further to reveal another chamber, which held a small set of tweezers. They pulled out the awl, a lockpick, and the tweezers and set them down on the blankets before snapping the compartment shut and putting down the plate. "Alright, this is what I got- know you don't like pokey but that's... probably what it's gonna have to be," they said, looking up at Arclight, "can you hold up the light so I can see?"

##  **Betta132** **02/12/2019**

"The next  _ planned _ one isn't for a few months, but unplanned- whenever we find somewhere safe. Or. Moderately safe-looking. See, the issue is-" Reaver paused to navigate a particularly tricky bit "-inhabited places, we risk being attacked. Uninhabited, we have  _ no _ idea what might be around. Massive electrical storms? Metal-devouring monsters? Which, by the way- a genuine concern on systems with a good deal of asteroids. The most concerning ones are the ones that clearly  _ were _ inhabited, with ruins or such, and are no longer. That raises the very big question of  _ why _ ," Reaver hummed, working his way around to Red's side. Simple detailing, highlights, that would come out as decently clean patterns in alt. "No spots yet, Red, those are probably best kept rather small. Those will be part of the last layer." 

Red's giggling finally faded away, and they shook their helm, still snickering. "You- you do not, Salvo. You do not." 

.

Oh,  _ that _ had Arclight's attention, and he looked thoroughly dissatisfied with everything. Fuck! That wasn't supposed to do that. Optics rather wide, he stared at Spade's general stomach area for a klik, then tucked a blanket tight around that general area in hopes of containing it. Best keep the organs  _ in _ . 

The compartment was more interesting, though, and, bleh, pokey bits. Arclight made a face at the tools, but picked up the lantern anyway. It shook, so they set it on the berth pad, holding firmly onto it. "Just. Just do. Don' mind. Too much," they muttered, staring rather sullenly at the tools. Fine. 

They didn't move away, either. Except when something  _ clicked _ . Whenever the damned thing clicked, Arclight's fingers twitched, hard, and their optics flared. It was a lighter click than the  _ bad _ ones, though, so he didn't- 

Arclight wasn't sure what the alternative to this was. Probably, what... screaming of some variety? Flailing? Didn't know. Didn't matter. They weren't doing that. They were staying still, staring at Spade's work, and trying not to. Start. Screaming? Or. Whatever that would be. 

When the wedge came away, the armor unfolded out further, showing the channel that the wire was in. It had been disconnected in the center, and a rubber cap over each plug to prevent accidental re-connections. Arclight glared at the caps and poked them with one fingertip, then turned the channel back to Spade and offered them something of an entreating look. "Too. Too fucky. Put it in? Please?" they cooed, accidentally sounding rather suggestive. They'd been aimnig for hopeful. Hadn't made it.

February 13, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/13/2019**

"Huh  _ months. _ Or earlier but we gotta have guns out," Salvo sighed, quickly catching some wayward paint drips before they got outside the lines, " _ This _ gun should be out. Don't think I wanna deal with 'metal-devouring monsters,' though, seems-" he shuddered, his mind calling up pictures of the parasitic worms he had to pull out of his chassis, "nasty. Better someone like me than someone tiny, though, I guess. More of me to eat through. Dunno who organizes scouting parties but wanna be on that list too."

.

With the extra light, Spade was quick. A firm hit to the end of the awl on a critical part of the weld and it came loose. They let out a quiet "sorry" as Arclight flinched. They didn't like the idea of hurting someone they were trying to help. When Arclight was ready to open up their arm plating further, Spade picked the piece out with their fingers and deposited it in his palm, "A souvenir. Looks like this shouldn't be too hard to reattach, either." 

A flickering smile and they reached in, inching the caps off with two fingers, and again letting the remnants rest in Arclight's servo. They talked quietly as they connected the two pieces, "Don't really do... this a whole lot. Like to make things- devices, weapons sometimes. Working on people is Sticks's thing- as bad..." they paused, they weren't about to throw the bot under the bus- shouldn't, anyway, "as... difficult as it is for them. But..." they twisted the connector one last time to make sure it was snug, "I can see now why they do it. It's a good feeling, knowing you're helping someone directly."

Spade pulled their servos away when they finished, "you wanna try that out and I can get started on your other arm?" They smiled a bit until they realized they'd just given the mech a weapon- a legitimate weapon. He just became considerably more dangerous. Their spark skipped a beat as dawning horror washed over them but their field simply flickered a bit. They'd trained their danger response not to kick in in these situations and it seemed they were together enough before for the practice to actually come into effect. Their face barely moved, save for the slight shade of a frown. They were already solidly in the anxious-planning phase. Their thoughts raced with what Arclight could possibly do- coming up with backup plans to get away when they could. 

Spade got a few kliks into that mental hole before they realized what was going on. This wasn't who they wanted to be- constantly doubting everyone. Arclight had done nothing to push their suspicion, they'd been so much calmer before. It was beginning to get embarrassing. They outwardly groaned and put a servo on their face, "stupid  _ fucking _ paranoia." they growled, quietly, "we're  _ not _ doing this now." Obstinately they held out their servos for Arclight's other arm, "Ignore me, let's fix you."

##  **Betta132** **02/13/2019**

"Usually, fliers have a look at the area first, make sure nothing comes at them. A few scans, land in a relatively bare place, and stick near the ship until we're sure. Stay more or less in groups. It's probably a lot safer than other things," Reaver shrugged, pulsing a quick surge of approval to Salvo. "So far, we've found... one cluster of scraplets, and nothing else worth any real concern. Well. We  _ did _ find the moon with Five-Alarm on it, and the evidence of the creatures he'd been dealing with, but we left before they came out for the night. Mostly it's been moons without any noticeable life-forms. So, hm- if you'd be willing to let someone carry you in case of a quick retreat, I don't see any reason why you couldn't come on a scouting trip. If you'd rather not be carried, you could wait until the scouts deemed it reasonably safe," he offered, moving Red slightly to reach their lower back more easily. "Sharpshot comes, occasionally. He rather likes Blackspark, I gather, trusts him not to take advantage of anything." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/13/2019**

Arclight watched intently, armor starting to lift in anticipation as Spade touched the cables, and their optics shone as everything clicked together. This close, though, they couldn't miss the unease, and their hopeful look eased up slightly in concern. Optics narrowing in concentration, they eyed Spade for a moment, then, moving slowly, sat up. Engine whirring in a louder purr, they touched Spade's back ever-so-lightly with the servo not containing an active welder, coaxing them a fraction closer. He didn't want to pull Spade into his lap, but he did spread his legs and coax Spade up between his thighs, letting him press his chassis to Spade's frame. Contact, again, and he quickly bundled the blankets up close to retain the warmth, then lifted his servo away from everything flammable or vulnerable to electricity. A deep ex-vent, and he transformed his welder down out of his arm, servo splitting neatly in half and sliding up past his wrist to get out of the way. He could still move his fingers, and they curled a bit as he engaged the welder. First time in. Oh. Primus. 

The conduction points were dirty, unused, and they sparked intermittently for a few long moments. Dark smoke curled up in a thin wisp, then faded, and a dark visor unfolded out from under the sides of their helm plating to cover their optics. Lifting their other servo slowly, they held it near Spade's optics, muttering a warning of "don't look, bright" to the smaller bot. When the welder caught and  _ held _ , a bright pinpoint of light, Arclight gave a long, satisfied trill and turned towards the wall. They couldn't just  _ not _ \- well.

Plating lifted and optics bright behind the protective visor, they traced a long, steady line along the wall, adjusting the intensity along its length to produce different widths. A long, deep ex-vent, and they shut it off, lowering it for Spade to see. "Basic welding, now. Melt edges together. This slot, here- takes rods for rod welding. Fuckin'  _ thank you _ ," they muttered, leaning down to rather clumsily nuzzle into Spade's helm, and set their other arm in Spade's lap. "Not. Still not gonna" a gesture at the air in general "any kinda... fuckery. Just. Gonna. Got my  _ welders _ . Don' tell anyone. Might be not s'posed t'. Don' care. I wan' my fuckin. My welds. So's I can make people  _ not touch me _ ," he hissed, plating bristling, then settled and attempted to nuzzle Spade's helm again. "Hn. 'xept you. You can. Can touch. Gots good touches."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/13/2019**

Salvo frowned, he'd heard bits and pieces of Five-Alarm's story, he couldn't quite imagine being in that search party. He didn't dwell on it too much, though, and instead returned to painting, following close behind Reaver's work, "I mean, if someone thinks they can carry me out, I'm not opposed-" he scoffed, "at least not as much as other people I know. Probably a good option too, cause I can shoot behind while the person who's got me is running-or" his visor dimmed a bit as he squinted, "suppose they probably wouldn't be  _ running _ so much as flying or driving. Cause I can run, too- dunno why I'd need to be carried by someone necessarily." He paused then sat up a little bit and cocked his helm at Reaver, "Say, now that I'm thinking about it, don't think I've ever been flown around before- s'almost an exciting prospect. Not that I'm... especially excited about being attacked or fleeing some sort of natural disaster or something."

.

It wasn't until Spade could see the reflection of the light on the surface of Arclight's servo that their unease began to dissolve. It really was bright, they could tell. Nobody trying to trick them would bother with such a little thing- it was too quick to really be premeditated. When the bright light flickered out and Arclight's servo fell into their lap again, they looked back at his work, "Huh," they chuckled, "I almost expected there to be a drawing of a spike on the wall there. Or your name- wait, were you at least taught how to write your name?" Their wings went up at the feeling of Arclight's face against their helm. They weren't exactly used to the affection, but it felt good. The mech was gentle and they were helping and it felt  _ good. _

For the first time in longer than they'd like to admit, they felt good. 

Spade reached up to rub their fingers down what they could find of Arclight's chin in response and nestled close to the bot's chassis, now solidly in their lap. They adjusted the blankets around themself again and started work on his other arm, "Not supposed to have these yet? Well. I won't tell if you don't," a firm tap to the awl against the second weld and it came loose, "If someone finds out. It wasn't me," they were excited now, working even faster to quickly twist the two ends together, "It deeeeefinitely wasn't me." They gave Arclight's arm a gentle -but triumphant- 'it's done' slap and twisted slightly around to give him a thumbs up, "I definitely didn't just fix both your welders- nope."

Spade leaned down to retrieve the arm plate, quickly fitting their tools back in the slot, "I only ask that if you're gonna go on a rampage across the ship you leave me till last." That dealt with, they set down the armor and sat back in Arclight's lap, radiating a smug kind of satisfaction, knowing they'd helped someone and broken a few rules in the process, "Pit, one of us has to be able to keep people from touchin us, glad it's you."

February 14, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/14/2019**

"I'm sure you can run, but it's rather prudent to only take those with particularly fast alts on scouting missions, or at least those who can fly. And not Records- too easily distracted, clever as he is. Gravescratch is an excellent scout, he has an incredible sense of smell and can run faster across most terrain than a decent number of four-wheelers can drive. You should see him run, it is  _ impressive _ ," Reaver hummed, and paused to size Salvo up. "Hm. I wonder if we could rig you to my alt somehow? The chance of us actually being attacked is quite low, and I certainly wouldn't mind giving you a ride. Now, may I ask- do you have a scope of any sort?" 

.

"M'kay. Didn't. Didn' see who fixed it. There's. Fairies," Arclight giggled, and smiled, a bit crooked but genuine, as they tested their other welder out. First in thin air, then on the wall, this time a few neat circles. Well. Relatively neat. A fraction unstable thanks to drunkenness in general. "Mm. I can write the  _ term _ . Prob'ly spelled th' same. Write a few terms. Sign thinnnngs, fuuck, do that again," he groaned, having only just fully registered sensations, and tried to nuzzle Spade's helm again. "No rampage, 'specially if ya do... that, mm. Gots them good servos. Where's..." 

Lifting his servos slowly, he transformed them fully back into actual servos and set them on Spade's frame, squinting slightly in concentration. "Fuckin... naked. No seams. Where's... where'd I touch f' now?" they asked, slowly petting Spade's frame with gentle servos. Well. Mostly gentle. A bit awkward, a bit fumbling and a bit more firm than intended, but gentle.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/14/2019**

Salvo nodded knowingly, yeah he definitely couldn't fly. And on top of that, as much as his instinct was to step in front of someone before they get hurt and stand his ground, he didn't expect those on the ship would let him- didn't know what he thought about that. He pulled away from his work slightly to consider, "Do I have a scope... well, depends on what you consider a scope, to be quite honest. Not a scope in the traditional sense, no. It'd be easier to show you- dunno how to describe it and it's not like I've seen myself- but I've already said I won't. Too easy to blow a crater in the wall and I will  _ not _ be even partially responsible for that thank you very much." He nodded again, more matter-of-fact now, "Suppose someone could strap me to you in alt- don't think I'd mind that much. But I'm-" he half-grinned, "Better shot lying down. I was telling the truth earlier!  Someone told me I handle a bit like a sniper rifle."

.

Spade started at the contact and leaned away slightly, "I... yeah, I don't know. Not a real big... cuddler. And plus I'm really not sure anyone's meant to pet bare muscle cables. But I... I want it, I do." They stood up and continued massaging their fingers into Arclight's jaw. It didn't take long, however, for them to start shivering, standing there so still. So they sat down again and pulled the blankets around them. They looked up into Arclight's face with somewhat of a pained expression. They knew what they wanted- what they actually probably  _ needed _ at this point- but how did they ask? Even the most straightforward 'I want you to hold me' sounded... needy, desperate.  _ That _ they were not. At least they wanted to believe.

Spade stood up again and reached for Arclight's servo. Holding it in both of their own, they traced a few fingers down his palm, "Your servo's warm," they remarked, quietly, before nudging it around their back. They lifted their wing-arms up a bit to accomodate, then returned to stroking Arclight's face. That was the closest to 'please hold me' they were gonna get.

##  **Betta132** **02/14/2019**

"I've not had much practice with rifles, not the longer-barreled ones, but I have to admit... I'm tempted. I'm sure we could figure out some good way to take you along, if not as a weapon, than simply as an additional set of optics. Sharpshot fits into someone's cockpit well enough most of the time, but he's quite small. You, not so much," Reaver commented, borrowing one of Red's arms. and traced on a couple of stripes. "You aren't cockpit-sized for ayone but Bracer, and that wouldn't be terribly comfortable for you. A bit cramped, I'd imagine. Which is a pity, it looks terribly comfortable. Have you seen his alt?" 

.

Arclight hesitated considerably, processor churning through the situation in an effort to figure out what the best thing to do was. They didn't want to frighten Spade any, but, Primus, their frame was  _ singing _ as Spade drew close, and their servos trembled in midair as they thought. Spade was touching him. A lot. Kept moving in close, kept initiating more touches. 

Spade. Probably wanted to be touched. Arclight absolutely wanted to touch. So, with that in mind, Arclight made the best decision he could with the data given. 

Leaning forwards slightly, he whispered "not grabbing" in an attempt to make it clear that he wasn't trying to  _ catch _ them, and slowly wrapped his arms around their frame. Oh, no, they were so small! Just... so, so small. So fragile. Arclight moved carefully, gathering Spade into his lap, and cradled him close. Optics shutting, he gathered the blankets close around them and began to rock, slowly, the slightest shake to his motions at the sensation of someone against his chassis. It was on purpose, it was at his will, he could stop if he wanted, and Spade was little and gentle anyway, but, Primus, someone was  _ touching him _ -

Frame tensing momentarily, he shoved the distress-urges down and leaned into Spade's frame, as carefully as he could, nuzzling at their helm. "Got you. Is. 's this warm enough?" he whispered, curled around Spade, holding them close, quietly hoping he hadn't messed up. "No stabbing, please."

(Arclight was really struggling with what to do here. he's very drunk.)

##  **Betta132** **02/14/2019**

That second pair of wings there.

February 15, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/15/2019**

"Always happy to give you some training!" Salvo smiled, returning once again to the half-filled patch on Red's back, "I can talk to whoever's holding me in alt pretty easily- it's just a matter of the person actually  _ listening. _ " A slight grimace for a klik and he moved on, "I've  _ seen _ Bracer, figuring out his alt isn't too hard- but I haven't seen him in alt, no. You really think I could  _ fit? _ " He gave Reaver an incredulous look, "Maybe if I'm in alt too- though that violates my 'no alt indoors' policy so unless Bracer's cool with leaving a hatch open so I don't run the risk of blowing a hole in my friend... and probably also myself..."

.

"Nothing to stab you with anyway," Spade would say but they found themself unable to move their mouth around the words as they felt Arclight's arms around them. They shuddered momentarily. Their servos stopped moving. Something caught in their vents as a wave of emotion broke over their chassis, seeping into every disregarded crevice of their frame. It was warm. They could feel the tiny movements under their fingertips, the slight hum, the tiny fluctuations in EM field that only came from a living frame. They slid a servo as far back as their reach would allow, trying to encompass as much of Arclight between their arms as they could, and just simply held them. They didn't really know what they were doing- didn't know what to make of Arclight's unease, which they couldn't miss- but they knew this felt good, felt safe. 

Spade wanted him to feel safe too. After a few long moments they seemed to come back to life. They gave Arclight's frame a light squeeze and buried their helm close to their neck. The overwhelming scent of disinfectant mingled with the slightest hint of grime and dried energon. They could taste his hurt on the tip of their glossa. They gently guided Arclight's helm closer to their own and resumed their stroking, slower now, gentler, "Sorry, I-," their voice warped around the tightness in their throat- around the aching triumph in their spark. It caught them by surprise, "I got... distracted. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **02/15/2019**

"I'm not sure you would be entirely comfortable, but his cockpit is fairly large," Reaver commented, pausing to absently scritch the back of Red's helm as they shifted around to get comfortable. "His alt is an odd thing. Like a round tank on four legs. There's a cannon somewhere in there, I'm told, but he doesn't like to use it. Mech is the closest thing to a pacifist I've met since getting involved in the war, and bulky enough to afford it. I've seen him be shot and come out without anything past plating damage." 

Aponogee was still learning about how to navigate. Indoor details were too fine for their location awareness to work properly, so they were rather lost. This looked like possibly the right door, so they gave it a try. Didn't turn out to be the right door, but, oh, hello, these were people. Aponogee blinked a couple of times, bright blue optics a bit hazy, then stepped inside and sat down. Mostly to watch, because, what was this? All six wings pricked up slightly, and they leaned in, antennae perked up in blatant interest. People could change colors?

"Well, that is  _ entirely _ too many wings in this room, I am going to go show myself off to anyone who comes near me," Focus declared, edging around Aponogee to leave, careful not to bump into any of their sails. They didn't really feel like explaining the entire world to anyone.

.(edited)

Arclight didn't know what to do, still, but letting go didn't particularly occur to them. Spade wasn't... upset. Right? Not in any way that Arclight could fix, at least. They... weren't...

And then the heat from another frame started to sink in, Spade's arms settled around their frame, and Arclight shuddered all over before their frame went lax again. Ex-venting softly, they curled up slightly around Spade's frame, wincing slightly at the scent. Fuck. Disinfectant. It was probably on  _ both _ of them, and he  _ loathed _ it, he smelled like a fucking  _ medbay _ , like-

Oh. A question. Thank you, fate and/or Spade in general, for the distraction. Nuzzling into Spade's shoulder, he ex-vented softly for comfort and purred as loud as he could, trying to work it out. "Hn. I'm. I'm fuckin' drunk, an' you're doin'... emotions at me. Fuckin'. You smell like... like a medbay  _ floor _ , an' I don't like... I don' wann' smell like that either, an' I do, fuckin- get it offa me," they whimpered, then shifted and managed to find a spot on Spade's throat that smelled a bit more like person. "Don' get you off me. Want. Just," he whispered, curling himself into Spade as much as possible, and kept petting. "Good. 's good. I-it- it feels- 's  _ good _ ," Arclight whimpered, optics shut tight to hold back the tears. 

Their field had been curled up so tight it was near-impossible to properly read, but now it finally unfurled and spread, wrapping strong, hot, and  _ desperate _ against Spade's frame.  _ Relief/please/want/need/warmth _ surged and ebbed, and they keened the softest, shakiest noise, their purring somehow kicking up louder despite everything else. Primus.

Someone was  _ touching _ them, pressed tight against their chassis, they could  _ feel _ it, but it was- it was so warm. And, fuck, Spade was  _ petting _ them, servos not even coming near their chassis, and Arclight's field surged again in a noiseless sob. They couldn't have identified their emotion if anyone had asked, and would have denied having it in the bargain, but, Primus, fucking  _ please _ . Everything.

Moving carefully, they gathered up Spade's frame and shifted, turning around and lowering back down onto their side. It was as gentle as they could manage given their current state of being flooded with high-grade and emotions, but it was  _ gentle _ , and they curled up on their side with Spade between them and the wall. 

Spade had liked the blankets, so Arclight grabbed the blankets again, pulling them up to cover both him and Spade completely. It heated up so well, Spade was so comfortable to hold, so fragile, so-

Safe. 

Vents hitching, they whispered "you're safe, it- it's safe, we're here, they're not, they're dead, we're  _ safe _ , we won, smells come  _ off _ and it's" a sharp in-vent "it's over." 

It was over, and the scent of disinfectant was starting to vanish under the tinges of soot. Soot was immeasurably better.

February 16, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/16/2019**

"I mean thick plating's all well and good but won't really protect you from an explosion from  _ inside, _ " Salvo said absentmindedly, he was concentrated on filling in the last bit of a section and didn't hear the hiss of the door sliding open. It was only until Focus got up and mumbled something about wings that Salvo actually registered something. He finally looked over to see what was actually going on as the door shut behind Focus. A new face. He straightened up slightly and slowly lowered his servo. 

"Wings..." Salvo mumbled, frowning a bit. Wings with the same kind of bright, glowing, translucency as Aphelion's. He remembered the way the bright colors would flash in warning whenever the beast shifted their wing covers in irritation. It was the last thing he'd seen of them, a bright green and gold spot off on the horizon, too far away to land a proper shot. His face steeled and his posture stiffened. The mech was a stranger, didn't hold themself like Aphelion did, but he couldn't quite quell his unease. He slid an arm around Red's waist without taking his optics off the stranger. He wasn't about to let that happen again. 

.

Spade's optics widened at the repeated waves of raw  _ emotion _ what could they-  _ how _ could- They held on tighter as Arclight shifted them onto their side. The light from the lantern illuminated a few languid dust motes and little else, obscuring the other's form in silhouette with the slightest tint of a reflected haze. They supposed this would be frightening- it should be. This mech, by all means could simply roll over and crush them, he could do any number of things, really, but Spade wasn't intimidated anymore. They felt  _ powerful. _ With one servo, they'd brought a larger mech to their metaphorical knees, coaxed out undeniably strong waves of emotion- positive emotion- with a single action. Their servo shook with as they continued to draw it up his face. It wasn't the cold, violent power they'd tried so long to attain- to emulate, no. It was soft, gentle, but  _ brilliant- _ a kind of golden ether that seemed to play between their fingers. Their optics glowed softly, reflecting off the angles of Arclight's face. 

"It's over. It won't happen again," Spade said after a long breath, then paused as their expression clouded a bit, "It's over but... not at the same time. I mean, I still need to be able to wear my armor again and you... at  _ least _ need some paint," a sad grin, "and then there's therapy -figuring out how to be... social again. But-" their vents caught again, "they can't hurt us. Nobody- nobody can hurt us."

##  **Betta132** **02/16/2019**

Red tensed a bit, helm lifting and turning, trying to figure out what to make of the sounds. A large bot, but they were moving... oddly, somehow, pedes sliding, as if drifting. Something  _ beat _ against the air, like bird's wings but a thousand times bigger, and Red curled tight into Salvo's chassis for safety. Who and what was that? 

Stirred from his work by the unease, Reaver glanced up to figure it out, and pulsed something gentle and soothing through his field when he figured it out. "You're all right. No need to worry, you two... this is Aponogee. They aren't going to hurt you. They're very sweet, if a little confused. They were an experiment to see if a Cybertronian can survive on sunlight alone, with no energon. They cannot. Aponogee here has only recently gotten a mouth and the ability to process energon. They're still a little hazy, and they're still learning, but they are absolutely not going to hurt you. Hello, Aponogee. How are you?" 

Aponogee moved in a bit closer, helm cocked, bracing their servos on the floor and leaning down to get a proper look. Their wings fluttered a couple of times, then folded neatly against their back, protected from a reasonable degree of the world. "Hello. What are you doing?" they asked, their voice soft, melodic, and quietly dual-toned. They were still getting used to hearing things properly, and to having people to speak to, actually out loud with  _ sounds _ , but they could speak clearly enough. Probably. Could definitely speak more clearly than their optics could focus on details close up right now. "You have colors in containers." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/16/2019**

Arclight nuzzled into Spade's servos and shut his optics, stroking slowly along their back, too far gone to be ashamed of himself and his- anything. Everything. Emotions. Definitely had emotions, so many of them, but that was  _ okay _ . It was  _ safe _ . Spade was holding them, too. Gently, so gently, dear Primus they couldn't remember being  _ touched _ like this. They'd had care, before, far before, and then just now with the medics and-  _ fuck _ , that didn't count.

Spade was touching him so gently, and, fuck, Arclight was crying into their servos. Vents hitching, they tried to draw themself up slightly, but failed, and only managed to scoff out something about "what'd you  _ do _ to me" before dissolving again. They didn't know what Spade had done to do this, but, oh, fuck, it was the touching, it was definitely the touching, and the  _ care _ for-

Arclight gave Spade the gentlest squeeze they could manage, nuzzling into their servos, optics shut but not quite containing the tears. Oh. Primus. Okay. Okay, they- fuck. Okay.

When they finally managed to assemble themself back up, they groaned in embarrassment and shook their helm slightly, but didn't let go of Spade. "Fuckin. Fuck. Emotions. 'm drunk. You're. Fuckin. Like. Like when people get a  _ saw _ and take it to- to th' worst beam in a wrecked building and the whole fucking thing just" a gesture at the air "crunch. I. I don't. Oh, no, 'm not... not drunk. It." 

Hm. Had their frame run through the high-grade already, then? Okay. Fine. Sure. "I wann' be  _ drunk _ , but, fuck, whatever," he decided, and gave Spade another, careful squeeze. "Gonna kill anyone who tries t' hurt me again. And you. Don't get to. You're still a tiny little fucker. Gonna. Find you knives. And then  _ still _ kill people if'n they try'n hurt you. So you don't have to deal with  _ shit _ ." 

Another pause, then he blinked and sighed, shaking his helm slightly. "Need to learn to read so I can get a dictionary and look up words in. One of them's 'therapy'. The fuck's that?"

##  **Malusdraco** **02/16/2019**

Salvo wasn't about to let his guard down. There was something off about Aponogee, presumably this would have something to do with the fact they were an experiment of some sort- or maybe it was an act. He spent a few moments silent before he quite realized what he was doing. This was someone new, and if Reaver was telling the truth -which, Salvo was fairly certain he could tell if he was lying- the bot had been through a lot. A quick scan of the bot's frame for any immediate threats revealed nothing particularly worrying, just... a thin bot with vacant optics. He relaxed slightly but kept his arm around Red's frame. He was not about to let some beautiful bot with glowing wings spin another of his wards around their finger. Though he supposed visual appeal meant nothing in this context.

"This is my friend, Red," Salvo spoke slowly, a hint lower than normal, and looked towards Aponogee's optics, "We're painting them new colors. They can't see you so please be careful when you move around them-"  _ and if you even think of hurting them I'll kill you where you stand. _ It was unfair, he realized, to consider passing judgement so quickly, but old anxieties dug deep.

.

Spade, feeling the tears between their fingers, was still very out of their element, but, it looked like Arclight still liked the gentle petting, so they continued as they were, trying their best to wipe away tears with their fingers as they came. When it felt like Arclight was through, Spade slowly took their servos away to wipe them on the blanket. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doin, mech. I was rubbin your face cause it looked like you liked it and you just started crying," They laughed a little bit but there was something thick in their voice- incredulous, not cruel.

Spade took a few deep breaths and leaned forward again, this time slowly sliding their arms around Arclight's helm, slipping one servo under the back edge, though making sure they were making contact the whole time. They reached out a couple fingers to massage the cables at the base of his helm, "This is also a  _ complete _ guess. Pr-Sticks used to like this a lot- dunno if it's a universal thing." They started off pressing lightly, tentatively, ready to retreat their servos if it looked bad, "Therapy is, you sit on somebody and talk to them about your feelings- I'm still trying to figure it out myself. It's a lot of talking. Talking about what happened to you, talking about what you did to others, talking about how  _ fucking _ guilty you feel. And then the therapist- their name is Notepad- says some slag. Some of it makes sense, some of it doesn't. Tells you things you should do. There's crying involved..." a quick sigh, "a lot of crying. Supposed to be good for you. Guess I've told my story enough now so I can keep doing it reasonably okay, so it's not all that bad-  _ fucking _ exhausting though."

February 17, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/17/2019**

Red, still spooked but a bit less so, uncurled enough to listen properly. And to ask, quietly, "what are those air noises?" as the new person moved. And then, oh, Primus, that wasn't how that worked at all! Their antennae lifted in alarm and they shook their helm slightly, sitting up straighter to focus firmly on the odd presence. "That... wouldn't work at all! Could decrease the need for energy input, yes, but- but a frame needs  _ energon _ . They can't possibly have expected this to work. Whoever it was who did that," then, much softer, "probably an Autobot." 

"It's paint. If you apply it to yourself, it gets integrated into your frame and you stay that color," Reaver explained, and hummed slightly to the room in general. "Everyone's all right. Aponogee, Salvo is trying to protect Red, because Red's been hurt in the past. Red, you're hearing their sails, on their back like Seeker wings. They use those to gather sunlight. And, no, you're right, it didn't work. Patches had to plumb in a fuel tank to keep them alive." 

"I'm a prototype," Aponogee explained softly, and picked up a spare brush, lightly touching the bristles. "That means they didn't expect me to work all the way, they just wanted to see if I would work a little bit. I did. I forgot where they are, though. I forgot where I was. I forgot a  _ lot _ . It's not good for you to not drink anything," they noted, helm cocking slightly as they watched the brushes move. "I can drink less than other people my size. But I need the sun, or good, bright lights, but  _ especially _ suns," they purred, and settled down onto the floor, lying almost like a cat with their helm supported on their arms. "And I have sails. They break easily." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/17/2019**

"Therapy sounds messed up," Arclight muttered, then groaned a long noise at being petted. Nngh. Fuck. Oh, they liked  _ that _ , yes, please, and they nearly purred as they attempted to mimic the petting. Not  _ quite _ , their servos were a bit too large to fit their fingertips under the back of Spade's helm armor like this. They got close, though. Close enough. 

"Guess it'd work better'n getting drunk and yelling about your problems. Less people'd hear. How d'you... what kind of people do you  _ sit _ on? Do you- oh, wait, I  _ heard _ about this. People who are also  _ furniture _ . Dumb alt to have, isn't that. Worse'n being, what, a wrench or somethin'. Bet people're  _ dicks _ about that. Tool-alts got all sortsa shit. Imagine being a  _ chair _ . Someone's nasty at you, and you just... what, sit there? Can't even drive away or flail around or nothin'," they muttered, and scritched firmly at Spade's scruff. "Guess there's worse jobs than havin' people cry their emotions at you. You've got someone here who's, what... table? Are people tables sometimes? Wanna talk t' your table, though. I got. I got emotions. Need an. An emotion person. Or I can jus' get drunk an' do this again! Who's- what's the deal with them at the bar? They're. Twins? Skinny... copybots."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/17/2019**

"Once bitten twice shy," Salvo mumbled quietly, turning to continue filling in the spot from before. He took a deep sigh as he actually thought about what Aponogee had said. As much as being created by someone for their own purposes was bad, wasn't the addition of being an experiment- a  _ failed _ experiment even worse? Neither of them had any say in their own creation- only the machinations of their creators to push them along. At least he had a purpose-he knew what he could do- he couldn't imagine much else to go on when you're a "prototype." 

Another deep sigh and Salvo relaxed the rest of the way with a low hum, slowly uncurling his arm from around Red's waist, "Experimenting on people... it's cruel." His voice was softer if slightly stunted, he couldn't really find the words to express what he was feeling, "Nobody has a right to do something like that to your frame- it's  _ yours. _ Doesn't matter what you're made for- they can't do that." Flashes of the smile that disappeared in a day. An even older fear seeped into his gut. He cleared his throat and turned over to Aponogee again, "You wanna come see? Reaver made me some lines to work in- he's the real mastermind here." 

Salvo turned back to his work, only to notice he'd gotten so caught up in his own mind he'd strayed outside the lines, "aw  _ fuck _ and I was doing so well- Reaver I, uh, I messed up."

.

Spade twitched a bit at the feeling of someone's servo at their  _ neck _ but eased after a bit- didn't feel too bad after all. It seemed neck scratching had more universal appeal than they'd expected. They dug their fingers a little further into what they could feel of Arclight's neck cables and stroked a little firmer- some deep pressure might feel very nice. 

"Notepad kinda baffles me- they actually  _ like _ being sat on," Spade said, "And not in a sexual way either. Still can't quite figure it out. They're comfy though, once you get past the 'I'm  _ sitting _ on someone' bit, got these nice red cushions. Kinda warm. They're not a table, more of a-uhh a couch?" They shifted a bit in Arclight's arms, "Don't think they're gonna  _ make _ you talk to em but they're gonna... 'strongly encourage' is what they said. S'not that bad. Notepad knows what to say, it's their job." They shrugged, "Anyway the twins are Duo, collectively, Scissors and Syringe individualy- you might be able to tell the difference between em eventually, don't think I can really do it reliably yet. They're... uhh," a pause, their optics narrowed trying to recall, "Dual... uhh... split-spark- there we go- don't know what the pit that means except apparently they can telepathically communicate with each other and that they won't stop touching each other. Weird-lookin too, huh. They're nice enough," Spade smiled a bit, "dealt with me freakin out a couple times now. Good people. I should... I should make somethin for em, when I get all my tools back. Dunno what they need but... something."

##  **Betta132** **02/17/2019**

Somewhat relieved that Salvo was no longer doing anything aggressive, Reaver grabbed a clean cloth and leaned in, purring gently. "It's fine- let me fix it. The paint is still wet, which means a quick swipe of a cloth will remove that," he noted, and stroked absently at Red's flank with one servo as he reached for his guide tool again. "Then I fix the boundary line, and we get back to painting. No trouble, see? You're still doing well." 

Aponogee moved carefully, not really getting up as they slunk closer, optics fixed on Red. The interest seemed to be mutual, too, Red was clearly focused on them. When they got close enough, Red lifted a servo slightly, reaching in their direction, winglets and antennae raised in interest. "You have... sails? M-may I touch? I've met a few bots with supplemental solar abilities, small sails, but- those sound bigger. Much bigger. I promise to be gentle- could I?" 

A moment's consideration, then Aponogee pressed in closer and laid down on their side again, flaring their sails to present them to Red. "I. I don't mind, no. Since you can't see to figure it out," they decided, and settled comfortably in, their sails quivering at the first touches. They didn't let most people touch their sails, but Red couldn't see, so it was only fair to show them. Right? It... oh, goodness, that didn't hurt, either, it actually started to feel good. Delicate servos. Nice. Their face and frame relaxed, and they flicked a little smile up to Salvo, wings quivering softly. "Gentle. I like gentle." 

.

"This ship's got  _ weird _ people," Arclight declared, glancing back towards the door to the bar, then groaned a long, contented noise as the rubbing sank in. "Haa, fuck. Those- those are  _ chemists _ , them with the things on their backs. Chemists  _ know things _ . Don't piss 'em off, chemists, they'll. You'll wind up pukin' your tank out an' fallin' over dead. At least those two seem... I dunno, not terrible. They got good drinks." 

He thought for a moment, then shifted his other servo to run it down Spade's back, investigating. Gentle, much gentler now that they weren't drunk off their aft. "Petting's easier sober. Life's... maybe not. You wanna... hn," they began, squinting slightly, "I wann' get... think I wanna be drunk. Maybe not  _ fucked _ , just. Li'l tipsy.  _ But _ ... I don't wanna stop pettin' you. How's. How's pettin' sound like in," they began, then huffed and sighed, glancing away. "-fuck. They. They weren't gonna  _ do _ anything, were they? If someone was, they'd... wouldn't've  _ not _ followed us. Nfgh," they declared, field shuddering embarrassment, and covered their face with the servo not scritching the back of Spade's neck. "Fuck. Everyone's gonna think 'm fuckin... unhinged. Which. Might not be wrong, but. Fuck, still. Ya know?"

Sighing, they settled their attention into scritching Spade, rubbing and massaging as well as they could given the size difference. They'd really just like to focus on something that was...  _ not _ them being stupid and panicky in public. Agh. Time to  _ not think about _ that. Instead, think about, hm. Spade. And the best ways to continue petting them.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/17/2019**

Salvo was distracted from watching Reaver fix his mistake by Red's movement. He turned to watch them, his expression indecipherable. He felt his mind divided- thinking at once about past and future. He cocked his helm slightly and let out a slow ex-vent at the smile. Particularly nonthreatening. If history were to begin itself again, what would he do this time- what  _ could _ he do. In all the time he'd spent thinking while Sticks was unconscious he hadn't come up with a single answer- what had gone wrong, what could he have done better. He supposed he could limit Red's contact to others, but the idea put a sour taste in his mouth- it was a tactic for the cruel and Red needed people to trust more than they needed him. 

He didn't know what to do.

Salvo was jostled out of his thoughts as Reaver stood up in his periphery. He turned to get back to his work, at once guilty and strained. He took another deep vent and spoke quietly, "I've met one other person with solar sails. Rare thing to see, I guess.... "He paused to collect his thoughts, "They mistreated someone very dear to me- enough so they were a micron away from self-termination. Don't take it personally," he finished covering the last square inches of that zone then turned to set the brush back down in the solvent. He took the chance to stretch one servo with the other and glanced down at Aponogee's face again, "Suppose I should apologize, no part of your situation, nor mine, is your fault. You're nothing like them either, s'far as I can tell," his face seemed to come alive again, grimacing slightly as he stretched his fingers out, "Don't think I'd ever seen em smile, anyway."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/17/2019**

"Join the club," Spade sighed, "Soundwave carried me through some pretty public places during my little... incident. I don't remember much- blacked out multiple times along the way. For all I know I could have been shouting something about how they were lying the entire time- as if being  _ carried by Soundwave himself _ wasn't enough. Not the first time I've just about lost my mind in the bar, either. Should... really learn that high grade doesn't do good things for my mind- as good as it feels for the moment." 

Spade shrugged a bit, "I've left my reservations behind about being considered somewhat of a lunatic- kinda have to. I'd try to get used to the idea as soon as I could if I were you. I mean we're in good company. S'a medic called Five-Alarm, talks to himself a lot, carries a  _ nasty _ looking sledgehamer around. Last time I saw him he was asleep in the middle of the medbay after harassing me about not wearing my armor- made an alright place to sit," they frowned, "actually that's... relevant. Dunno what he'd do if he saw you. Might try to -uhh corral you until you let him do something. Not that he looks like he could really do anything to help- only has a servo-ful more paint than you do-  _ my _ servo. Got him to chill by  _ saying _ he could help. Course he really just did nothing and fell asleep. He starts bothering you, might try that."

They paused everything to lean back into Arclight's servos as his fingers traveled down their spine, that felt  _ good _ \- weird, but definitely good. Their wings perked up, fanning their rotorblades as much as they could given the fact they were against a wall. They hummed slightly as that quiet purr started again in their frame. "That's- very strange. Weird to be touched on stuff that's normally not touched- but good." Their optics softened as they resumed massaging Arclight's neck, "You wanna feel something a lil gnarly, up a bit and to the right's my scar- feels weird to be touched there but it's mine."

##  **Betta132** **02/17/2019**

Aponogee listened, but had no idea what to  _ do _ with any of that, and it showed in their face. A soft, slight frown, brow furrowed, sails wavering slightly in the air. Hm. 

After a moment, they sighed quietly and spoke softly, optics soft. "I don't know what to do with any of that. I'm sorry it happened. But I didn't do it, and I'm not...  _ going _ to do it. I like people. Most of them. A few aren't very nice, but I don't want to  _ hurt _ them. I just. Kind of want to put them somewhere else. I don't know what to do here, though," they sighed, and lifted their sails slightly further. "Do... do you want to touch my sails, too? It's okay if you do. You're being really gentle with them, so... you can probably be gentle with me. Right?" 

"Right," Red purred, and paused in their stroking to pat and nuzzle whatever of Salvo they could reach. "They do seem kind enough. And I-I have to admit, horrified as I am by the fact that someone would  _ do _ this, I'm... I am intrigued. Sails are rare, solar panels are rare, this is... oh, I can feel the conductivity, it  _ tingles _ . I'm a medic, Aponogee, so- so my servos are very sensitive, and I- oh, oh no." 

Aponogee's sails clamped abruptly to their back again, and they aimed a look over their shoulder rather like a mouse who'd spotted a cat, staring up at Red. A medic, oh  _ no _ , that was a risk- all the people they didn't like were medics! Granted, they- they liked Patches, he explained things, he'd given them new parts, and this was a small and gentle medic, but this was a  _ medic _ .

.

 

##  **Betta132** **02/18/2019**

" _ Fun _ , fun times," Arclight scoffed, and quietly echoed the purr, glad for something nice to focus on. Well. Nicer. "Surprised that cabley li'l fucker's still alive, an' not... I dunno, hunted down for bragging rights. That'd be one  _ fuck _ of a bragging piece, any bit off him. An' I... might complain, too, if I was a medic an' someone was walkin' around with no armor. You need that slag," he pointed out, and moved his servo slightly to the side, inspecting the scar. "Fun. That's parta why you need armor," he muttered, stroking carefully around the edges, then pressed his palm flat to the scar for a few sparkbeats before beginning to rub it. Long, slow, firm motions, pressing against the fibrous scar structure, as if to loosen it. "Nasty. Seen scars- a lot of burns, cuts, tears. This. Might help. Don't... don't know  _ why _ , just  _ is _ . Never really needed to know why things are, just. That they are. It works." 

Scoffing lightly, he glanced towards the bar door, then aimed a slightly odd look at Spade. Mostly curious. Still rubbing, both at their scruff and at the scar. "So. You got a couch, you got chemistry nerd twins, you got Soundwave, and- was that a fuckin'... there was something in the corner. These... these things showed up after awhile, big squishy things, stuck armor all on 'emselves. Real big for squishy things. Was one of  _ those _ in the corner? Or... was that another thing? What kinda bots you got here? Been pickin' up all the weird things for th' whole war, or what?" they asked, wearing something almost like a smile as their petting produced results. Optics dimming to almost nothing, they purred deep and low in response, blinking slowly at Spade. And then, well. A tiny flicker of embarrassment through their field, and they glanced away, clearing their throat. "People, uh. People sure act weird when they ain't got any kinda good touch for forever and you throw it at 'em."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/18/2019**

Finally a wash of pity covered Salvo's face, timid bot. It wasn't hard to put together- Aponogee's response was quick and decisive. He stroked a servo down Red's back, "It's not your fault," he didn't quite know who he was speaking to but his voice was soft, "Red here's... somewhat of an ex-medic. Most medic-y thing I've seen em do lately is give massages- good ones, too. Can't really do much more than that cause they can't see. They won't be doing anything you'd worry about," he paused to give the ex-medic a quick hug. "S'that a good explanation?" he murmured to Red, "you wanna talk any more about it?"

"Anyway," Salvo let go of Red after a few moments  and turned back to Aponogee, "point is, they're not gonna hurt you. And neither will I. My misgivings are on me to deal with." He leaned and hesitantly reached a servo out to them. He wasn't about to touch, no, not without confirmation that it was okay. Rather it was an invitation, an offer of peace.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/18/2019**

Spade's wings flicked up and back a few times as they tried to decide what to make of the sensation of someone  _ rubbing _ their scar. It was odd, most of all, not unpleasant. As was most of today, they supposed. A brief moment to take stock. Here they were, in a dark, abandoned corridor, cradled in the arms of an immeasurably-fucked bot after both of them just got done having their own parallel breakdowns. Was this progress? They looked up into Arclight's optics, a relaxed face, and considered the fact the mech had been touching them all over and they hadn't freaked out. The itching feeling was simply a quiet background hum now. They were relaxed, they were enjoying their first major bout of contact in a long while. Was it progress? They'd say yes.

"Is that a comment about you or me? Primus knows I can't tell," Spade chuckled a bit, leaning in a little further to stroke down Arclight's neck, "S'probably a good thing- getting used to good touching again."

Spade paused a bit and changed the subject, "Squishy things with armor on," they cocked their helm a bit, trying to recall, "Can't say I know what you saw. If it looked like a pile of scrap metal it might have been Avalon. There's a mech under it all, apparently. Don't uhh..." they looked away in embarrassment, "don't really get out much. I've been here for a while but can't tell you what most people's names are. I know Crucible, nice mech, the captain, evidently. The other prime witness to my uh... meltdown. He makes things- has a forge. Was watching him make a sword when it all went down. There's Reaver- he's also got swords-and horns. Ah B-Bracer... big guy, may or may not like taking a gun up the valve- wasn't really paying attention to that conversation. And... then there's my f..." they shook their helm with a sigh, "the people who I'd been hanging out with for millennia before we got on this ship. Sticks, you probably already met, real... real crybaby- uh, Salvo, big red guy, got a nice frame. Burner,  _ she's _ the one you should go to to ask about who's who on the ship. Draft, grouchy, don't think he'll... really forgive me. And Bowline who you know."

Spade paused, realizing they'd basically just listed off everyone they knew on the ship, "probably more information than you wanted. But, yeah this ship's full of weirdos and I don't even know a lot of em. But- say. Um, listen." they didn't know how to ask this, "my list of people I trust is  _ real _ barren right now but... uh... you're on it. I... uh... What do you say about sticking together? Dunno what I'd do to cover your back- I mean it's a lot bigger than me- but fuck, I'd do my best."

##  **Betta132** **02/18/2019**

Aponogee considered them both for a moment, optics clearer but frightened, as flat to the ground as they could get. Nothing happened, and they slowly began to relax, optics flicking to Reaver for reassurance. They got it, a slight nod and a subtle wing-lift, and visibly relaxed further. "Oh. I. Okay. I'm. I'm sorry, I... 'm not sure I like medics very much. Sorry. I-I'm sure you're nice! I'm. I'm just scared," they whispered, then, slowly, began to lift their sails again. "You can still touch. You're really gentle. I-I think I like the touching," they decided, voice soft, and lifted a wing into Salvo's servo. "You can, uh. You can touch. Gently, please?" 

Red moved slowly, carefully, stroking at the edges of Aponogee's sails, now as much an effort to calm them as an effort to explore. "Salvo's right. Plus, I-I  _ couldn't _ hurt you, even if I wanted to. You're much larger than me, I'm sure you're faster, and I couldn't see you to chase. If- if you don't like what I'm doing, all you have to do is leave. But I'll try not to do anything like that. Okay?" 

"Okay," Aponogee echoed, optics soft, looking up at Salvo. Salvo, in particular. "I'm. I'm okay." 

.

Arclight started laughing somewhere around the end of Spade's little introduction. Very soft, optics bright, going limp against the pad aside from his gently petting servos. "Ship's full of weird fuckers. Fun. Fuckin  _ swords _ , huh? That's. That's great. Love it. Fuck," they grumbled, shaking their helm slightly, and softened up considerably as they continued. "Wasn't about to leave. Think I like you so far. Got no one else I like. Fuckin- I might like the-" a rather hard shudder "think the round one in th' medbay might be okay, him with all the white, but,  _ fuck _ , I don't fucking  _ like _ all that fucking  _ white _ , looks too-" 

Their servos started to tighten, but they noticed in time and let go before it could get uncomfortable. "Colors. Fuckin. Great thing to get fucked up about. Gonna walk into a paint place and freak out. Primus-damned usel- hey," he muttered, abruptly steered in another direction, "-Sticks? Little- weird hollow face, tiny bot, fulla emotions? That's" a weird scoffing noise, optics a little over-wide, "li'l thing got th'  _ pry bars _ outta me, about fell apart, ain't seen 'im since. They... okay? Kinda. Almost thought they'd be. Heh, in here bein' drunk or somethin'. Got 'em real fucked up. Fun fuckin' times for  _ everyone _ involved," they declared, and hunched down closer to Spade, hooking a leg over the smaller bot's frame. Gently- a leg thrown over them, one servo rubbing at their scruff, the other still working at their scar. "But, yes. Gotta. Gotta stick together, us with the fuckery. An' the rotors," he added, very softly, servo moving from scar to rotor base. "Always. Always just wanted to. Wanted t' meet someone else with these. Don't know  _ why _ , for  _ what _ , or what 'm gonna  _ do _ , but. Yeah. Hi."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/18/2019**

Salvo reached forward hesitantly but stopped- a lightning-fast thought of the feeling of gripping the sail in his servo, how easy it would be to rip it out. He wouldn't. He would  _ never. _ He wasn't in the business of hurting innocents- he  _ wasn't. _ The slightest frown shot across his face but was gone within a nanoklik. He clenched his jaw- he was not about to let whatever kind of fucked up mode of 'protection' his processor thought this was get the best of him. Very slowly he inched his servo forward to meet Aponogee's sail. He very lightly drew the backs of his fingers down what he could reach. He didn't know what he was expecting it to feel like, but it wasn't this. His expression relaxed into one of genuine curiosity, Aphelion had never let him do this- he didn't think they'd let  _ anyone _ do this. He flipped his servo around to pet down the length of their sail, "They glow, too, Red," he mumbled in their direction before addressing Aponogee, "It's alright to be scared. Can't really help what your frame perceives as danger. And I don't think I can fault you for being wary of medics after what they've done to you."

Salvo gave them a slight melancholy smile, voice warm and gentle, "What does it feel like, having someone stroke your wings. Are they sensitive?" he drew his servo back a bit, "if it's uncomfortable just say so. I mean I'd much rather be petting you in a place you'd actually  _ like _ to be pet."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/18/2019**

Spade's optics brightened a bit in intrigue at Arclight's leg now casually draped over their own. A bit more forward than they were used to for someone they'd met a couple hours ago, but at this point most things were out the window. They didn't think they were entirely against such an advance at this very moment if that was what the mech intended. They turned their face to Arclight's, somewhat of a smirk on it when they finally finished processing what they'd said. Their expression fell, " _ pry bars _ is that what..." Their optics flicked to the shadowy area where Arclight's main chassis plate would be. The  _ weld marks _ that they'd touched. They fell silent for a minute as the rest of the mech's horrible story clicked into place. It left a bitter taste on their glossa. 

After a long time Spade shook their helm, "Yeah that'd bother them," they murmured, "They're... sensitive. more'n I think, everyone else- not the kind to drink away their problems, or try to, not like me. If I know anything about them, they went and cried about it and cuddled someone-Forceps probably. -Primus  _ fuck _ pry bars, huh?" their wings raised, rotors clattering together in anger. They let go of Arclight's neck to clench their fists. The minute hinges that raised and lowered their plating were standing on end. 

Spade closed their optics and took a deep breath, "No wonder you've got a thing about touching. Probably have a thing about armor too. It's  _ vile, _ it's all-" they stopped themself, laughing wryly through hard breaths, "and we were both so calm a minute ago."

February 19, 2019

##  **Betta132** **02/19/2019**

The sails were actually soft to the touch. Only slightly, but they were soft, the material flexing at enough pressure. The support rods at the leading edges and running through the membrane-like material were stiffer, but still felt as though a rough enough push could bend them, and the membrane itself was shot through with tiny wires and the occasional vein. It was warm to the touch, alive with energy, and conductive enough to be felt. The room lights weren't too bright, but even that was enough for the mechanisms inside to start working, soaking up energy.

Aponogee thought for a moment, then offered Salvo another little smile, spreading the sails further. "I think I like it. I'm still learning what I like, though. A lot of my sensors weren't working because I didn't have enough energy. But I know it hurts when things go through them. In a vacuum, there's no inertia, things go fast and keep going fast. Little things can hurt. Ship debris is really bad, a lot of it is sharp. That's why they're shredded at the edges," they explained, soft, optics just slightly sad. "Medics said they can't fix it all the way, have to grow it back. It doesn't hurt. But I don't like it, I know I don't like it," they sighed, soft, and glanced up at Salvo again. "I like the petting. And I think I like you. Do you want to pet somewhere else? You can." 

.

Arclight made yet another odd noise in response. Something between a snarl, a sob, and a laugh. But they were here, they were conscious, and that anger felt so fucking  _ good _ . The swell of vindictiveness, of  _ validation _ , drowned out just about everything else, and they gave that noise again, a bit softer, clutching Spade close. "Got a thing about  _ clicking _ , which, fuck, I'm- I'm supposed to be a  _ load-bearer _ , jus' found out, I got- I-I can- guess I can do the armor thing, fuck, how'm I gonna do that when I can't stand  _ clicking _ , and where- where'm I even gonna  _ get _ armor to- hng, fuck it," they declared, and curled tighter, fingertips rubbing slowly around the bases of Spade's rotors. "Oh,  _ fuck _ , that feels good, love you bein' also pissed- we're both right, that was fucked! And your armor is fuckin... all these bits are trying to grab me," he noted, fingertips tracing gently over the connection points. Exposed connectors responded to the touch of metal with an attempt at connecting, so he could actually feel their frame trying to latch onto his.

After a moment, he ex-vented softly and glanced down at his own chassis, starting to settle again. It felt. So, so good, having someone be  _ angry _ on his behalf! Fuck! And there were other feelings. "Wanna. Fuckin'. Gonna start... don't know, something, if I do this, but. Alls I wanna do is. Wanna stuff your damn... skinny little frame up under somewhere. Wanna keep you. Can't do that. Can't move any armor. Gonna" a slight stir, curling up tighter, and the leg hooked around Spade's gave a firm squeeze. "-hn. Might. Might actually." 

Leaning back slightly, they attempted to meet Spade's optics, voice soft and gentle. "Hey. I'm. I'm not gonna... won't make you, but. You- you know what I want? I wanna get.  _ Fucked _ . And not  _ drunk _ . You still got that- that buzzy thing? Wanna" a pause, servos curling gently against Spade's frame before the scritching resumed, "wanna fuckin- he doesn't get to- I wanna be  _ touched _ , wanna get  _ fucked _ , I wanna  _ want _ it, he doesn't get to take that away too. You. You wanna? Or- or no, an' I'd. That's fine. Just. Fuck it. Fuck  _ me _ . Ya know?"

##  **Malusdraco** **02/19/2019**

Salvo cocked his helm thoughtfully, "you know normally I'd say it's a bad idea to just let someone touch you wherever- easy way to get groped, whether accidentally or on purpose- not that I'd even want to, but I guess if you don't know what you like, maybe it'd be helpful to find out?" He brought his servo away from their sail, and slowly reached instead for their ruff, "Probably more than a little selfish, too, have  _ not _ seen anyone with fur before." Setting himself to softly but slowly petting outward from the base, he grimaced a bit, "Might have to warn you, all I know about medics, they're  _ weak _ for good textures. Our bots here are good, won't do anything without express permission, but you're  _ definitely _ gonna catch some optics." 

Salvo let out a short sigh and scritched gently at the base of their neck, "Course I couldn't say that without following it up with 'you don't exist for the pleasure of others.' Don't exist for others period. Full stop." his grimace turned into a slight frown, "Not everybody's quite figured that out yet." He really was lecturing, huh, Salvo thought. The idea bothered him, someone being taken advantage of simply because of their own ignorance or naiveté- especially someone like Aponogee, as strong a reaction he had against them at first. He cleared his throat, "All this to say, don't put up with me- or anyone, for that matter- touching you somewhere you don't want. Or- or bothering you."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/19/2019**

Spade spent a few moments calming down, servos clenching one after the other. They gave Arclight an intrigued optic when they finally calmed down enough to properly address him, "So the leg  _ was _ an advance. Cuddly and horny, hard to tell sometimes," They moved to reach back and give Arclight's thigh a enthusiastically aroused slap but slowed down just before they touched metal, realizing they had no clue what might get them splatted against a wall. Instead they opted for a couple light taps before grabbing as much thigh as they could get their fingers around. Another microklik and they let go, looking up at Arclight with a mixture of lack of confidence and concern, "Right that was-  _ intended _ to be a yes. You're gonna need to tell me what is and isn't good. For the first time this week I think I  _ would _ actually object to being flung into a wall." It only took a few brief kliks for them to realize just how bad their frame wanted this- rotorblades separating just slightly as their frame kicked up a degree or two, "Not gonna lie, Arclight, there's something very appealing about the idea of being the first one to give you a good time after all that slag. But- alright I'll level with you, I don't... have a lot to work with," they grimaced a bit, "mouth doesn't open wide enough to suck you off, spike's..." a shrug, "well it is what it is. Haven't fragged since before the war and have been told I'm pretty garbage at it. And I don't have the vibe with me s'in my room- Though, we'd probably need to grab lube anyway but-" they held up a servo to bring themself back on track and looked into Arclight's optics, "Regardless my frame's telling me that's the  _ best _ idea you've had all day but I cannot promise I'll be any good. You'd probably be better off with someone else- Scalpel maybe, or Burner, Reaver's hot too I guess- I assume they all know what they're doing. You don't have to settle for me."

##  **Betta132** **02/19/2019**

Red squeaked "there's  _ fur? _ " and reached for Aponogee's ruff, and Aponogee giggled quietly for a moment. They looked up at Salvo and trilled quietly, a noise probably familiar to anyone used to flightframes- couldn't purr an engine when you had jets. This was, clearly, a good and happy sound. Mostly because it was a good and happy situation! "Patches already pet me. And the little shy one. And they said a lot of things like this, and about 'autonomy'. About how I won't get in trouble if I stop someone from doing something. And..." 

They trailed off, brow furrowing in thought, helm cocked, then their optics brightened and they tapped one servo quickly on the floor in excitement. "That's how I got here! Or. Not there. I realized that. That the mech who made me, did... all this. He was  _ smaller _ than me. I" they paused, squinting, "think I punched him. And then I left. And I got lost. And I wound up here. And I like it here!" they declared, then braced their servos on the ground, pushing back into the petting. "I... nnh, I like that. That's  _ good _ ." 

.

"Not sure it  _ was _ much of anything, but it is now," Arclight declared, then chuckled, glancing towards the door. "So. So I can either. Stay 'n figure you out, or. Go an' hit on a stranger. Stay where I know things, or go somewhere else. Nah. Rather. Wait, fuck, yer  _ tiny _ ", he declared, as if realizing it anew, and sat up to look down at Spade. "Shit," he declared again, but his servos moved to Spade's hips and squeezed regardless, then he stroked down their thighs. "You're. Yeah, not... not really gonna be able to... get a spike in you. Too damn small. But, fuck it, gotta- gotta be  _ something _ to- heh, might be fun not t' worry about getting fucked way too hard for once, yer smaller'n me. Maybe, uh. You- you know what? Just. Tell me if, uh, if I fuck up any, and... I'm gonna... gonna try some slag."

His crank-engines whirred in concentration as he thought, and he moved to carefully position himself, hooking one of Spade's legs over his lap to bring their codpieces together. A long, slow rocking motion, then another, and he moved one servo up to stroke Spade's stomach. This was starting to feel like the best fucking idea he'd ever had, and he let his optics half-shut, rocking a bit more firmly against Spade's frame. "Gonna. Gonna open up, 'n show you, m'kay? Ain't gonna... try'n fit. Just. I  _ know _ bots with this kinda size thing can fuck, jus' gotta figure it out," Arclight muttered, and retracted his panels, opting to give Spade a look and see if that brought up any ideas. Valve cover, first. His valve showed off his original colors, a soft bronze with brass detailing, and the lips were starting to plump up in arousal. It took a few more slow, leisurely hip-rocks before they opened their spike panel, and that took a moment longer to pressurize, but it was promising when it did. The same patterning, with a few thin white bio-light stripes, and a series of ridges along the underside. 

Ex-venting softly, he purred quietly in the back of his throat and kept rocking, grinding the ridges on his spike against Spade's inner thigh. "Hnh. Yeah. That. That might work a li'l."

February 20, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/20/2019**

" _ Punched _ him," Salvo chuckled, "went too easy on him in my opinion. I woulda... I woulda done much worse if I were in your position," He hummed something contemplative, "though I guess that's your choice as well-autonomy means you get to decide how bad you fuck up those who hurt you- how many... grudges you keep." He sat for a bit, concentrating on how deep his servo went into Aponogee's fluff. They seemed to like his petting, which was a good sign. Using the tip of one finger he stroked up their neck, "Lost in space sounds... it sounds terrible. A friend explained to me once why our ship was taking so long to get to its destination even at close to lightspeed. There's just nothing out there- So much nothing. It's kinda terrifying-must've been a tough choice to make."

.

"I- ohh," Spade groaned, a healthy blush starting up on their face. The feeling of something on their panel was enough to perk them up a bit. They looked down at Arclight's spike, optics brightening, as a smile played across their face, "you're pretty. I'm gonna take that as a fucking challenge. We're  _ going _ to fit your spike up my valve if it's the last thing i fucking do." Their legs tightened around Arclight's waist, "Just hope it  _ isn't _ the last thing I do. Aim to be alive by the end of this, anything else is up for debate." They let out a soft groan and the energon lines in their frame began to glow a little brighter, "Alright... here goes."

Spade grabbed Arclight's forearms, rocked a few times against their grinding and slid both panels open at once. Their spike was sleek, thin, and tapered at the end, piped with glowing violet biolights, which also ringed their valve entrance. Around their node trailed a line of gold that traveled up the underside of their spike. The gold made twisting patterns all around the area that would be covered by their panel. They looked away and shifted slightly until their valve lips just maddeningly adjacent to Arclight's spike. It was kind of embarrassing wasn't it? It looked ridiculous, their mods. Their blush brightened further, "It's mods, all of it. Thought I was hot slag back on Cybertron, went for this... frivolous disaster as opposed to more normal equipment. Didn't make me better at fragging- you can bet your aft."

Spade laughed, sounding almost sad, " _ fuck _ it seems so stupid now. But. Alright I have an idea." Their valve had gathered a fair bit of lube just by dint of their frame exalting in the chance to frag off excess charge. They leaned forward a bit to shift their valve lips around the base of Arclight's spike then pushed up with their legs to get a good angle to grind on him, using their servo to keep his spike pressed close.

##  **Betta132** **02/20/2019**

"I don't remember if it upset me," Aponogee contributed softly, contemplating the floor in front of them. "I think it was... wasn't too bad. Didn't do any worse in space than I would have on the ground. And I didn't... didn't get lonely, not really. I hadn't had any way to be. Nobody... they never taught me to be, I guess. I remember things from that! A few... few things. There was a place where a lot of ships exploded, and some of the parts hit each other and stopped moving. There was. There was a lot of wreckage. Just... there." 

"Bots born or made to travel through space tend to be much less affected by it, and by loneliness, than others. Not to say that they don't get lonely, only... it's reduced," Red added, leaning forward to bury both servos in the fluff. "A survival mechanism, I'm sure. And, an upside of your alt... if you want to get out and move around, you don't need a planet! You can just... hop out. Please don't, by the way, we'd- we'd want to slow or stop to- to let you keep up." 

.

Arclight groaned and rocked against Spade in return, then huffed, almost smirked, and slid a thumb down to rub against Spade's spike. "Pretty. Yer still tiny, but, hnnh,  _ fuck _ , if you wanna... a'ight, then, you- you know what'd work," he muttered, servos sliding down to grip Spade's hips, and set to grinding against them. His frame  _ liked _ this idea, and his vents kicked up several notches and revved enthusiastically, the lights along his spike glowing brighter in response. "Fuuck, tha's good, that's a thing." 

Pleasant as the grinding felt, though, it wasn't  _ getting _ them anywhere. After a few more moments of grinding, Arclight hitched them up a bit and shifted the angle to give himself some space, grinding more against Spade's belly and alongside their spike. Gently, they slid a servo down and rubbed their fingertip over Spade's valve, then dipped inside as carefully as they could. Arclight really didn't know how gentle to be here, so he went with "as much as possible", rubbing with frustrating lightness just past Spade's valve rim. "Fuckin'. Tiny thing," he muttered, and pushed deeper, focusing so intently that he stopped grinding. "Good? Don't, uh. N-never had-  _ fuck _ \- gonna be such a fuckin  _ squeeze _ , how- fuckin', you tell me what you like, and I am gonna  _ do it _ , and I might-" 

Pausing, they eyed Spade's equipment for a moment, then started to lean down a bit. "-li'l candy-lookin' spike, wanna suck you off, gonna stretch you out real fuckin' well so's I can  _ fit _ -"

##  **Malusdraco** **02/20/2019**

"Huh..." Salvo said, visor darkening a bit, "space-alts are coded to be loners... That explains some things, I guess." Aphelion must've had some kind of complex, with what they did. He drew his fingers up to rub around Aponogee's jawline, "I suppose you could just leave, if you wanted to, huh," His fingers stopped, "Nothing much's stopping you save for fuel, which I guess you could steal and then run off..." 

Salvo fell silent for a bit, thinking slowly. He sighed and shifted his servo to lightly grab Aponogee's shoulder. Leaning down a bit, he met their optics with a soft but serious expression, "Which you shouldn't do. People may-no, they  _ will _ come to rely on you, even if you don't know it yet. Don't... don't abandon them, even if you  _ could. _ And don't  _ threaten _ to either, fuck." He realized he was lecturing again, and on top of that letting the past slip into the present- again. He cleared his throat and resumed petting their ruff, "Words from the wise, I suppose."

.

Spade let out a shuddering vent as Arclight switched what he was doing. Their spike twitched slightly beside his. But quickly their arousal plateaued, "you-you're- just. Fingers! Shove em in deep," they whined, "Here let me- lemme show you- something like-" They twisted forward, grabbing Arclight's spike with one servo while using their other to swirl a finger around the mech's valve lips. A moment's forethought and they retreated one servo to collect some lube from their own valve on their fingertips- three at once they fit in- before, much more gently, collecting some from Arclight's valve as well. What they were about to do could get uncomfortable without lubrication.

Spade squinted slightly, trying to approximate where they'd grab their own spike by firmly stroking up on Arclight's with their now-lubed servo. They were paying close attention to the give of its internal mechanisms- there was something- ah. The third stroke or so they found a fibrous  _ something _ that seemed familiar. They used that line to set their thumb and then began stroking in earnest, the tiniest hint more pressure where the tip of their thumb met the underside of Arclight's spike. All the while using two fingers to pet the top wall of the mech's valve, not going too deep. For good measure they very lightly circled a thumb around his external node. 

"Now how's  _ that? _ " Spade said, sounding rather confident.

##  **Betta132** **02/20/2019**

Aponogee thought for a moment, brow furrowed, then gave Salvo a vaguely concerned look. "Someone did something really bad, huh? I'm not. I won't leave. I don't want to, it's nice here. I like  _ people _ ," they crooned, and their bio-lights glowed brighter, flicker-pulsing for a moment or two. "People are. Mostly nice, I think. Most of the ones I've met seem nice. You're warm, so I think I like you. I like it in here," they decided, optics and voice soft. ""And I've never seen anyone's colors change. I didn't know people could do that." 

"You may be projecting," Reaver observed dryly, nudging Aponogee's legs out of the way to get better access to Red. "I"m not sure Aponogee is of a personality to try threatening anyone with anything. It's all right. We're all right. Now... Salvo, you may want to focus on differences. The fur and all." 

.

Arclight gave a soft, pleased noise at the first touches, and then a much more incoherent noise, legs twitching at the stimulation. "Nh,  _ fuck _ , okay then, if you- you want, yeah," they declared, and added another finger, rocking their servo in a firm thrusting motion. Relatively narrow servos. Good for this. 

It only took a moment or three for Arclight's composure (what they had of it) to start falling apart. Helm lolling slightly and mouth falling open in a soft, pleased noise, they rocked more firmly down against Spade's servos, pedes twitching, legs slipping further apart. "Nnghahhh,  _ fuck _ , that's- tha's good, fuck," he groaned, and curled his fingers carefully, spreading Spade's valve open further. "Fuck. That's. Tha's it. G-gonna-  _ fuck _ , I  _ was _ gonna- ohh, gonna suck y' off  _ later _ , gonna do this now," they decided, and rocked down harder, trying to take more of Spade's fingers. "Fuck. You got it. Do that,  _ harder _ ." 

And then, well. Spade wanted to be stuffed. And they were certainly stretching easily- maybe they'd had something modded to add that? So, fuck it, Arclight decided, and began to work a third finger into them. He was being as gentle as he could, and it seemed to be working out so far- Spade certainly seemed to be responding well. Which was good, because Arclight wasn't exactly in a mood to be  _ patient _ .

His valve was heating up, his whole frame in fact, warmer and faster than just about anyone who couldn't light themselves on fire. Not quite to an alarming degree, but noticeably. Beyond that, his long-unused valve was responding eagerly to the penetration, clenching around Spade's fingers and rapidly slicking itself up, and his spike twitched against the stroking servo. That wasn't  _ nearly _ enough.

February 21, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/21/2019**

Salvo's visor darkened as he closed his optics underneath, his back plates twitched in quickly-quenched irritation. He was being much too aggressive here, much too heavyhanded, as much as he hated it being pointed out it still continued to be unfair to Aponogee. As his visor began to glow once again he gave them a genuine smile, "you know, I think I like you too." He gave their shoulder a quick squeeze, "And I agree, people... they are mostly nice now. Even the ones that aren't so nice, they don't want to see people hurt. I'm afraid even if the bad people are vastly outnumbered-they... tend to leave a much bigger impression." He looked away, quieter, "I'm sorry you had to be on the receiving end of my issues-lotta things have been pulling at me lately, something had to snap at some point."

A beat of silence and he sat up a bit, giving Aponogee a quick helm rub before pulling away, "Anyway I'm pretty new to this whole painting thing too. You just-" he grabbed a paint pot and half-tilted it towards them so they could see the paint inside, "you get some of this," he set the pot down before grabbing the brush he was using before from out of the solvent jar, "and use a brush to put it on." He put the brush back and resumed simply holding Red, "When it dries it's the new color. Red's arm was... well, it was a different color when we got here and now look at it! All nice and red- I mean they were red before but a different shade, yanno?" 

Salvo was quieted by a polite knock on the door. A slow, noble-sounding voice came muffled from the other side, "R-Reaver? Are you in? I'd like to discuss something with you."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/21/2019**

"O-oooh you-" Spade shook slightly as more of Arclight's servo played about their valve, a smile pulling at their stiff face. They could feel a warm energy building up in their stomach in anticipation. Lube trickled out in response. They liked the attention, sure, but their focus was on warming up Arclight now. They particularly liked the way his lube dripped down the back of their servo- this was  _ working. _ They could feel him heating up under their grasp. Extremely rewarding. Maybe they were actually good at interface after all, maybe all their other partners had just been... wrong? Or maybe millennia away from  _ any _ interface did them some kinda good. Regardless they felt a wave of confidence wash over them in tandem with the washes of pleasure. 

"My  _ my _ you're wet," Spade purred, their newfound confidence putting a sparkle in their optic, "I can do that for you, yes." They decided to try something they hadn't before -not even on themself, couldn't get the right angle. They pulled out the servo in Arclight's valve, slowly transformed it outward to regain their extra digits, and fit as many fingers back in as they could, which was almost their whole servo given Arclight's size. They began to pet against what they could reach inside their valve, their fingers creating a wave of stimulation against a few internal nodes. 

The mech wanted more? They would give him more. They were gonna do great and Arclight was gonna feel good cause of  _ them. _ Spade redoubled their efforts, swirling their thumb faster around Arclight's node, while speeding up on their spike and incrementally increasing the pressure on their valve. They looked expectantly up into Arclight's face, wanting to see the fruits of their labor.

 

##  **Betta132** **02/21/2019**

The petting had mostly stopped, so Aponogee sat up, optics focusing on the paints as well as they could up close. They couldn't see things close up, not well. Maybe later? It had been getting better. Patches had said... something about how their senses had been pared down to only what was vital. Which was why they hadn't been able to hear for a bit, and why their optics had previously been focused permanently into the distance. This was getting better, though, they could see shapes up close! Could more or less see the brush. They didn't hear the voice at the door, though. 

Reaver had elected to keep working on Red's paint, and didn't stop the precise, even brush-strokes just to speak. He did raise his voice enough to likely be heard, though. "I am. I do have company, but you are welcome to come in. Vulcan, yes? Do you have anyone else with you?" 

There was room for other people, but hopefully Vulcan didn't have too many people with him, or it was going to get crowded. Especially with Aponogee. Folded wings or not, mech took up a lot of space, more so because they seemed to get uncomfortable if confined or crowded in any way. Absolutely  _ shocking _ in a spacefarer, honestly, who would ever have thought that a mech used to the vastness of galaxies might not enjoy being confined. 

.

Arclight responded well, at first- optics rolling back slightly, groaning long and low as they sank into the attention, servo starting to shake against Spade's valve. The pressure at their spike was starting to edge into too much, but they weren't about to tell Spade to stop just because-

And then he made a considerably less pleased noise, hips jerking back and away, optics snapping back into focus. "Nnh, fuck, okay- that ain't- too far," he declared, and slid his free servo down to remove Spade's servo from his spike. "Ow. That's. You  _ like _ that? Fuckin' ow, too much, ya can't just- lighter, 'n everywhere," he suggested eloquently, coaxing Spade's servo up to stroke at the shaft of his spike instead of that... whatever it was. Didn't want to discourage Spade, they were starting to look much more confident, but, ow.

Now- how did they leverage a proper explanation into being while they were still this horny? Helm cocking slightly, he shifted his servo where it was fucking into Spade's valve, rubbing his thumb up the length of their spike. "Like  _ this _ . Gotta spread it out, get  _ all _ the nodes. Valve, that's- tha's act'lly pretty good, but-  _ move _ . Same spot gets" another, rather displeased hip-jerk "gets too  _ much _ , so- start fucking, not- not the pressing, and get offa my node 'fore you rub it off," he requested, bracing himself slightly to keep himself from just pressing too hard into the overly strong pressing, and slowly lowered himself back down. "Riiight... you gonna" a pause, fingers curling in Spade's valve in an effort to demonstrate, "-gonna go a li'l softer? Just. Gentler. This- this feels good, yeah?" he asked, but his optics were narrowing slightly as he stroked against Spade's inner walls. Didn't feel... something wasn't quite right. The conductivity, the sensation of the nodes through the wall, what was that? Something just... didn't feel the way it ought to, and Arclight wasn't sure what, but- and, ow, Spade was definitely being- hn. "Someone's- you- you can feel this, right?" he asked, running his thumb steadily up and down Spade's spike as he rocked his fingers in and out of them.

February 22, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

Salvo sat up at the noise, looking toward the door with an amused smirk, "lots of visitors today, huh Reaver?"

The door slid open to reveal a very tall, lanky mech, they ducked their spectacled helm under the doorframe to get a good look at the room before deciding their plan of action. Their optics drifted from Reaver to Aponogee and then stopped at the sanguine mass of Red and Salvo. Their optics opened wide as their spark seemed to stall for a moment. All the time spent in deep contemplation, mentally preparing what they'd say to him after they found out it really was their creation- their  _ son _ on the ship, and here he was. 

"Hello...?" Salvo said, frowning a bit. The mech was staring. He couldn't put together their expression and again looped his arm around Red's waist.

Vulcan blinked, not wanting to alarm him, stood up straighter and gave Salvo a warm smile as they stepped into the room. Now it was easier to see just how  _ odd _ the mech looked. They had bright crimson armor with plates of light cream and shining gold accents that wrapped across their long torso and forearms. Their arms seemed nearly as long as their legs- or one set of them, hanging loose. A second set was carefully tucked behind their back. Their entire frame seemed almost decorated with kibble that was ambiguous at best. They turned to Reaver, "Seems I've come in at an opportune moment. I was going to ask you if you could let Puppet sit in on one of your painting sessions- just to show them what happens," an exasperated smile, "I expect once they figure out what's going on, they might let me, or someone else, fix their paint. They're... somewhere around here. Puppet, dear, where did you go?"

Salvo leaned in a bit towards them to get a better look while they were focusing on someone else. He got a good optic-ful and whispered to Red, "new mech just walked in, tall as pit. Red, white and gold, and on top of that he's got... 4 arms." Salvo really didn't know what to make of perhaps the strangest feature of this stranger, the device strapped to his chassis, clearly somewhat embedded into his armor.

Salvo looked away quickly as Vulcan turned to Red, leaning over slightly with a serene smile, "would our subject mind some observers?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

Spade's face fell quickly as Arclight backed away, "Guess I got ahead of myself." They felt stupid and sounded like they'd just accidentally stepped on someone's pet. They set their jaw and squinted their optics at Arclight's spike. He seemed to know what he liked, at least. Spade struck down their ego quick, they wanted Arclight to feel good more than they wanted to be right. Strangely, their spike didn't much react to the mech's gentle touches. 

It took a few kliks for Spade to get irritated- at themself, at Arclight, they didn't know, "Yeah I can feel it but why are you going so-" they frowned, "so soft, I-" They flushed in frustration, but sounded almost sad, "What's... what's your point? Do you wanna go slower now? We can do that-" Why did Arclight sound so concerned? Why did they get the creeping feeling that something was wrong with them. They were already embarrassed about their equipment in the first place.

Spade took a deep breath. Anger,  _ frustration, _ was not sexy, they could already feel their charge slowly leaking out of them. They nodded and thrust themself on Arclight's fingers with a desperate kind of force. That- yes. That worked. They felt the warmth rekindle right above their panel. They focused for a few more kliks on themself- thrusting at an irregular tempo. A few in quick succession and another spurt of hot lube ran through their valve. "Like that," they managed, a little more out of breath than before. With that they resumed attention on Arclight's spike, loosening their grip a little bit before slowly stroking up and down his shaft, "little more 'n I'll be ready. You wanna cum inside me? I'm pretty sure my valve would do a better job than my servos."

##  **Betta132** **02/22/2019**

Aponogee only noticed Vulcan at that point, and their optics brightened in interest- albeit unevenly. Oh. This mech was  _ pretty _ . And that was a lot of arms! Gravescratch had extra arms, but the rest of him looked weird. The rest of Vulcan looked fine. They thought. They didn't have the best idea yet of what people were supposed to look like. This seemed more or less right. So, intrigued, Aponogee sat back slightly to watch Vulcan. They did not, however, think to offer any kind of greeting. They didn't really do that. No one had taught them to.

Red followed Vulcan's motions with their helm, shrinking down a fraction as they felt Vulcan lean over them, and their field started to retreat in nervousness. When Vulcan  _ spoke _ , their field nearly vanished, and they hunched down into Salvo's frame. Mech didn't feel like a threat in any logical way, wasn't projecting anything, but,  _ fuck _ , that- that wasn't- their plating clamped down and they in-vented deeply, drawing themself up, locked on Vulcan as they spoke. "You. Y-you can watch. But don't- don't call people  _ subjects _ ," they hissed, bristled up a bit, looking like they weren't sure if they needed to sit back down, hit something, or run. What they  _ did _ know was that, paint be damned, they were pressing into Salvo as if trying to melt into him.

Puppet had gotten distracted listening to the next door over (someone was doing  _ something _ rather noisy), but responded eagerly to their name. As always. That was their name! They liked that they had a name, so they responded with a loud chirp, and hobbled over to the right room. And if Vulcan was a bit confusing to look at, well, might as well give up trying to work out what was up with Puppet. They looked... well. Mismatched. Badly so. Uneven shoulder plating, for one, and easily seven or so different color schemes trying to happen right next to each other. Right down to a messy split across their face, deep purple on one side and green on the other, and one gold-tipped audial longer than the other. On closer observation, their arms weren't quite the same length, their lanky body shape wasn't quite symmetrical, and one pede -but not the other- was split into two toe-claws. They didn't move right, either. The dull silver braces fixed to their armor helped a bit, bracing their knees, hips, elbows, and running up the length of their spine, but all that did was mean they could walk without falling as much. They still moved like they hadn't figured out their legs yet, high-stepping a bit, and the servos grasping at any available solid surface for support were just  _ awkward _ . They really did move a bit like a marionette, albeit one whose animator hadn't quite figured out the strings yet, or didn't care to. They looked cheerful, though, even given that one optic was practically white where the other was trying to go gold and the white optic lacked the teartrack-marking that the other had. Even given that they'd latched both servos onto the doorframe for support.

Reaver, left with a bit of a mess to sort out, made a vague face at his entire room at once before leaning in as well. Field spreading out and pulsing  _ reassurance/comfort/warmth _ at an intensity he'd formerly reserved for people just fished out of rubble, he did his best to politely but firmly push Vulcan's presence away, seeing as how that was what seemed to be upsetting Red at the moment. "Ah, they're a little sensitive, for good reasons but- I, personally, don't mind the company, though you may want to back up," he suggested, optics locked on Vulcan's face, a bit less friendly than he would have preferred to look. There was a vague tension wanting to make itself known in his face, mostly at having Red upset. It wasn't Vulcan's fault, but, still. Unpleasant.

##  **Betta132** **02/22/2019**

.

Shit! Arclight had been aiming to NOT upset Spade. He didn't even have a good answer for most of that. Except to press much, much harder against Spade's spike, to a point that anyone else would find uncomfortable. "You got, uh," he began, spreading his fingers further in Spade's valve, trying to figure things out. It was hard. All his frame wanted was to  _ fuck _ something, and if that wasn't Spade, it was gonna have to be the lantern or something, because he wasn't going to be able to just wind  _ down _ . So, that in mind, he pressed up a bit closer and rocked his spike against Spade's thigh again. "You, uh. Think someone's fucked yer sensory bits up a bit. Gonna figure it out  _ later _ , though, rather- rather fuck you now. Look, wanna- gonna just try-" 

One servo was occupied with stretching Spade open, but the other slid up to capture both their wrists, pinning their arms over their helm. A decent excuse for them to not be doing anything with their servos. "-that. And. Fuck yeah, wanna- jus' a li'l more, gonna fill you up so  _ good _ ," he crooned, shoving away the vague and blurred thoughts about what might be going on here. Spade had  _ some _ sensation, clearly, could enjoy themself well enough, so whatever the fuck was going on didn't matter right now. And Arclight did not want to think. Arclight wanted to fuck. Wanted,  _ nngh _ -

Well. The most distracting thing they could think of. Pulling their servo from Spade's valve, they licked their fingertips clean, then gripped the smaller bot's hips in both servos and pressed up close. Panting, they slid the length of their spike against Spade's valve once, twice, then shifted to line up properly. "You. You jus' lemme know if this's too much, we- we can figure somethin' else out, or stretch you more, or- jus' tell me if 's too much, an' brace on somethin'," he prompted, and, gently, pressed the tip of his spike into Spade's valve. 

To his vague but delighted surprise, there was essentially no resistance, and he gripped Spade's hips tighter as he began to ease in deeper. Fuck,  _ fuck _ that was good, and Arclight groaned low in his chassis as he paused to rock his hips in gentle little thrusts. Pit. He was going to be able to  _ see _ this, wasn't he, see the bulge in Spade's stomach, and he growled a bit louder at the thought. Some of which he might have been voicing out loud, oops. Didn't matter. Didn't care. Too busy slowly trying to fit his entire spike in a bot much, much smaller than him.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

Salvo responded quickly to Red's distress, maneuvering his frame so he became a wall between them and Vulcan. He drew them closer with both arms and  _ glared _ at the strange mech. He could not share Reaver's dedication to keeping the calm- not with Red  _ cowering. _ Field flaring  _ fury/protect/defend, _ his second vocalizer growled deep under his first, "You have half a klik to move before I make you."

Vulcan stood up quickly, expression more sad than anything else. They backed away, pawing with a servo behind them until they found the wall, then sat down with a heavy  _ thump, _ close to Aponogee. Something in their chassis seemed to constrict. This was not how it was supposed to go. They didn't know what they expected but it wasn't this- this hostility. It took a few kliks for them to rearrange their thoughts. The first sound that came out of their vocalizer was a strained hum, "I'm so,  _ so _ sorry. It was- I didn't mean to-" Their voice had a stressed static at the edges -they'd hurt someone again, and in front of Salvo, too, "I- oh, Puppet, dear, I think we should come back another time."

Salvo looked to see who Vulcan was talking to, and immediately bristled, " _ Puppet _ huh? That your idea?" he looked accusingly at Vulcan.

" _ What _ do you mean," Vulcan retorted, retaliatory anger mixing in with the emotional cocktail in his mind, "Their- their name? They chose it. It's- it's  _ theirs. _ And you will not insult my  _ son _ in front of me."

Salvo turned back to Puppet, a worried look on his face, what had this stranger  _ done _ to this poor bot? He was already formulating rescue plans when he leaned down to set his cheek on Red's. He tried to calm himself, slow, deliberate vents. He mumbled into their audial, "You're alright. I won't let him hurt you. I  _ promise. _ I'm here..." he trailed off and glanced back at Puppet again, "this 'son' looks like a science experiment."

Vulcan had resorted to watching Salvo, their optics locked on his frame as he'd moved in front of Red. He listened enraptured at the tenderness in his voice and his optics shone with quiet pride. It was radiant. Except, he frowned, "They're not  _ deaf _ you know, be nice to them. They're not an  _ experiment _ either. They... Puppet, do you mind if I told them how you came to be?" Vulcan reached out a servo to them. He decided he wasn't about to leave until at least he'd made sure those in this room would respect Puppet- respecting  _ him _ didn't matter much in comparison.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

Spade was quick to shut up again with their servos pinned to the wall. Whatever Arclight had discovered about their frame it was beginning to dissolve in what he'd learned to  _ do. _ The energon lines on their frame glowed as he lined up his spike head. They wriggled around until the whole of his spike was inside them. A quick in-vent through their gritted dentae as they looked down to see what Arclight was mumbling about- sure enough there was a new spike tip-shaped bump in their stomach. They smiled through a heavy blush. Their fans at last kicked in as their frame finally  _ at last _ began to truly heat up, "oh that's kinda hot." they murmured, "wonder if transfluid's gonna come out the front when you cum... wanna find out." 

Spade laughed and brought a servo around to feel the impression Arclight made on their frame, trailing a fairly firm few fingers against their external muscle cables to see if he would react at all. By this point, they were almost certain they'd be fairly out of whack by the time both of them finished, possibly even needing medical attention, but they didn't much care. They leaned back, lacing their arms behind the back of their helm and resting what they could against the wall. Their wings extended slightly in the empty space, fanning the rotors out as appealingly as they could. "Don't hold back, Arclight," they said, their voice polarized by their slow-building charge, "I mean, watch where you're gripping but... I wanna see it."

##  **Betta132** **02/22/2019**

Aponogee, for their part, looked back and forth between all of the trouble for several moments. Optics wide, they finally focused on Puppet, and squinted a bit in confusion. "Oh, what did someone do? I can't see very well up close, but... that doesn't look quite right," they noted, looking a bit worried but not quite afraid. not yet. None of this was... quite what scared them. Nobody was doing anything violent. Probably looking kind of angry at each other, though. Aponogee was pretty sure those were angry looks. 

Red huddled back into Salvo as much as they could, turning away to hide their face in his shoulder, audials quivering at the sounds of someone moving not at all right. They wanted to ask what was wrong, but they couldn't, they  _ couldn't _ , all they could do was stuff themself into Salvo's frame and shake. They were locked up, vocalizer offline, quivering all over and hugging Salvo tight. No hope of doing anything else, not until the adrenaline faded, until Salvo calmed down, until the echoes chased themselves out of their helm.

Puppet, for their part, bristled right along with Salvo. Some of their armor couldn't lift because the braces were anchored over those plates, and all it did was emphasize their general unevenness, but the expression was clear. Vocalizer giving an odd, keening growl, they edged over to Vulcan as well as they could and hunkered down next to them, arms around the larger bot. It wasn't clear if they were seeking reassurance or being protective. And, really, they didn't know. There were a lot of angry gestures going on, and they leaned their helm against Vulcan's flank, growling again and clinging tighter. 

"Oh dear," Reaver muttered, and pulsed his field stronger, reaching to stroke along Red's back. "Red? It's me," he purred, and, voice deliberately low and calm, nodded to Puppet. "Salvo. It's all right. Look at them. Do they look like Vulcan has been hurting them? And, look at the boundaries- no scars. You've seen Doom, you've seen how his weld lines are still present even though those were made before he was even alive. They have a few scars, here, but none along the boundaries. Red... you're all right. So are they. That's Puppet. They have some difficulty with coordination and movement, something about their spark not being anchored properly- you'd have to ask an actual medic for details. They don't really seem to mind, though it is a bit difficult to tell, as they don't speak. We're all right. No one here has hurt anyone else here- there was only a slightly unfortunate choice of words. It's all right," he crooned, rubbing between Red's winglets until he felt their frame start to relax, then picked up the solvent again. "-and now I'm going to fix those streaks before they dry." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/22/2019**

Arclight muttered something about "don' think that's how that works", but kept going, the vague twinge of 'what the fuck' drowned out by arousal and by the sensation of the slick, hot valve wrapped around their spike. Oh. Primus. And, there! Those were good expressions, good responses. Clearly this didn't hurt. Still baffled Arclight that this worked on someone so small, but, hey- seemed to be working out! Therefore, Arclight wrapped a servo carefully around Spade's hip, gripping against the strut material, and braced the other on the berth pad as he began to rock deeper. Long, slow, gentle thrusts, pushing a fraction deeper each time, watching how Spade's frame shifted around them. Fuck,  _ fuck _ , that- that was a lot, but, Primus, Spade sure seemed to be- ohh. 

Valves  _ stretched _ , and Arclight wasn't sure about the anatomy of this, but, Primus- they actually managed to sheath their entire spike in Spade's valve, and it was  _ tight _ , but they  _ fit _ , and, oh, Primus, were they drooling? Might have been. Didn't matter. Primus. Too good. They were probably still talking about some of that, but they didn't  _ care _ , and they started to thrust into Spade in earnest. Still not too hard, they didn't trust that not to hurt anything, but,  _ oh _ , Primus-

And then they thrust a shade harder, and that bright glint showed up again as something shifted in Spade's frame, and- oh  _ shit _ -

Rotors clacking in alarm, Arclight grasped at Spade's flank, attempting to contain things, and only somewhat succeeded. Yes, their palm ended up against the gap, containing the wayward organ, but their fingertips slipped between muscle cables and slid against internal structures as their hips bucked in another, instinctive thrust. "Ah,  _ fuck _ , that ain't right-" they hissed, glancing up to Spade's face, and... did not see any of the emotions one might expect from that. 

Uh. 

Their servo tightened a fraction, their hips stuttering as their frame screamed for  _ more _ , and Arclight went as still as they could manage. It was not still.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

Salvo concentrated entirely on Red-on calming down so he could help them sort out what they were feeling. He gently stroked underneath their audials with one servo and held on tight with the other. He closed his optics and quietly hummed something he knew Red liked until they stopped shaking. A few moments of simply quietly holding them and he reopened his optics with a long sigh. He shifted his servo to draw a thumb across Red's cheek, "Do we need to go?" he murmured to Red, "we can wait until Reaver's finished you up or I can just carry you back right now no questions asked. Just nod for yes. Don't worry about words right now."

Vulcan didn't know what to do, seeing what they'd wrought of the tiny red bot. They looked down at Puppet and retrieved one of their smaller servos from behind their back to pet them on the top of the helm, while resting their larger arm around their side, a modicum of protection. They sighed and settled on addressing what Reaver had said, "Puppet's condition goes far beyond simple misalignment- that, at least, is moderately treatable in most cases. I don't think there's quite been a case like them- or- I'd... seriously doubt given the specifics," They sighed and hugged the bot a little closer, "I could only dream there are others -that I wasn't the only one to..." they trailed off. It was a thought they'd come back to frequently, whether or not others had gotten the same idea they did, or if MTO plants were simply abandoned.

They sighed and gave Puppet another hug before loosening their hold to turn their attention to Red. They spoke quietly, field projecting something calm, "Red, is it? I feel terrible about spooking you. My name is Vulcan, I'm an ex-blacksmith and ex-frame builder, but most importantly a  _ pacifist. _ I would never hurt you. I'm dreadfully sorry we met like this." They watched Salvo and Red for a moment more before turning their attention to Aponogee. For good measure, they tapped the bot's ankle with a knuckle, they didn't seem quite attentive, "One more left to become acquainted with. What is your name, spacefarer?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/22/2019**

There was something very endearing about Arclight's running commentary, Spade thought as they began to feel his thrusts gather velocity. Their charge was building quite quickly now until they felt something slip. They twitched slightly as something pushed against the inside of their stomach cables. Something slightly annoyed passed through their field as they spotted their damn fuel tank out again. Out of nowhere a burst of sensation flowed from their stomach within microkliks it turned into hot pleasure into charge and before they quite knew what was happening, they overloaded violently. With a startled but breathy yelp, their calipers rippled around Arclight's spike over and over again as transfluid shot from their spike, splashing into their rippling torso cables. 

Several kliks later Spade lay a panting, quivering mess, optics wide, staring intently at Arclight's servo around their fuel tank with a look of equal parts horror, arousal, and amusement. This was almost truly unbelievable. Their face glowed as they managed to blush even harder, "hey Arclight, what the everloving  _ fuck _ was that?" they squeaked.


	20. Chapter 20

##  **Betta132** **02/22/2019**

Aponogee gave a startled little chirping noise, sails jerking up, and focused in on Vulcan. "-oh! Oh. Hello. Um- I'm Aponogee. Sorry, my energy isn't, um. Isn't good yet. Patches says I'm not well-fed enough. Are you" turning slightly to Puppet "are you okay? You're walking funny. What's on you?" they asked, gesturing slightly to the braces. "Are you stuck?" 

"Whatever the case... they really don't seem to be in distress," Reaver purred to Red, who was starting to look a bit less shaken and a bit more curious. "They're wearing braces like you sometimes see to support joints after surgery. On their elbows, spine, hips, and... I think that extends down past their knees. And it's all right... I've met Vulcan before. He's not going to hurt you." 

Red ex-vented long and slow, shivered a bit, and turned to properly face Vulcan and Puppet. Dimly aware of Reaver dabbing at a few parts of them with the solvent, they swayed for a moment, venting quietly, and finally spoke. Soft and gentle, a bit shaky, but clear. "Don't. Don't use that word. Not for people," they sighed, and settled comfortably against Salvo's frame, facing the newcomers. "Condition, describable as misalignment, manifesting as coordination issues. Processor housing damage? That can affect the connections to the frame. And. Yes. It's Red. I have issues." 

Puppet stared at everyone for a moment more, then grabbed Vulcan's arm and tugged insistently until they sat. Climbing into Vulcan's lap, they settled in as well as they could, optics on Red in particular. So shy! Were they okay? Whatever had happened, everyone seemed to be calming down now- and people were using their  _ name _ , which they vibrated quite happily at. That was them!

.

It really wasn't intentional. This wasn't the time to chase an overload. But,  _ fuck _ , Spade's valve did something  _ amazing _ , and it had been so  _ long _ , and Arclight gave an odd, shuddering gasp and thrust quickly into that rippling, clenching valve. Grip tightening on Spade's hip, they gasped, groaned, and overloaded, hips bucking, curling over Spade's frame as they pumped that tight little valve full. Transfluid spilled out around the base of their spike, and they groaned again, optics rolling back, leaning down to curl around Spade's frame. "Whaaat... what the fuck kinda  _ kink _ you got," they muttered, and pressed very carefully, attempting to contain Spade's tank a bit more. "You. You fuckin" a pause, and the softest, most careful squeeze to Spade's tank, and they curled down to nuzzle Spade's helm. "You. Uh. You... good? It hurt?  _ Fuck _ you're tight. So  _ full _ . You- you got y' li'l- y' got an overflow tank in there?" 

What the Pit? Spade was clearly in, well, the opposite of pain, had never gotten anywhere but annoyed, no- no pain, no fear, no upset. Didn't seem like anything was  _ damaged _ , just. Messy now. Spade seemed like it was fine. So. It was probably fine. Right? 

Arclight couldn't think. Too much overload-brain. Fuck that felt good. Weird as  _ fuck _ , but. Good. So good.

February 23, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/23/2019**

"Don't apologize for something you cannot control, Aponogee," Vulcan said gently, a warm smile on his face, "It is a pleasure to meet you, and you Red." He took a deep breath and leaned to make optic contact with Salvo, "and you, too Salvo."

"Sure," Salvo glanced at Vulcan in response to his name, giving them an irritated glance before paying close attention to Red's body language. He was ready to pick up the slack in case this Vulcan character fucked up again. 

Vulcan continued, "Puppet, to the extent of my knowledge is perfectly happy. I do worry, though." He looked down at them to pet the top of their helm, "I worry that if they get hurt somewhere specific and I cannot see it, I won't be able to help them." They leaned down to look the bot in the optic, "Please keep considering attending some sign language classes with me- won't make you do anything but it would help, hmm?" They straightened up again, "Anyway, Red, I've tried to figure out the cause of Puppet's movement problems for a while now. It doesn't help they're not too keen on people meddling with their frame. However, I doubt it's a case of processor casing damage. We managed to avoid most of the war- spent that time without conflict entirely, and the worst injuries they got were from falling, mostly limb injuries. My leading hypothesis is some sort of nerve damage in conjunction with frame imbalances and some preexisting spark issues." They leaned forward, an intrigued smirk on their face, "You are much too clever to be someone who wears those colors for fun, you might find their story interesting." 

Vulcan put one small servo on Puppet's shoulder, "Puppet, dear, would you mind if I told Red about how we met? It's up to you."

.

Spade shuddered and squirmed in a mixture of self-disgust and raw pleasure at Arclight's servo on their tank. They groaned and covered their face with both servos, "Stoooop. Why does that feel so good," they whined, "Primus, as if the ages-old mods weren't embarrassing enough. Now I have a-an organ fetish. Great." 

A few moments of guilty self-pitying silence and Spade brought their servos down to run their palms around the bump in their stomach made by Arclight's spike, "Gonna be real with you, Arclight, I don't know what I got- definitely  _ bought _ the full package but evidently they didn't deliver all the way. And now I'm aroused by someone's servo around my fucking fuel tank- hardest I've come in a long time." 

A long string of lube and transfluid fell from Spade's valve to the floor. They, intrigued, made the move to take themself off his spike, gripping both servos on arclight's shoulders, they slowly inched back, their face contorting more and more amused as more transfluid gushed out. Once completely finished de-spiking themself and gawking at the puddle underneath them, they reached around to give Arclight a hug around their neck, "that was nasty but also very  _ very _ good." A bit of a cackle, "I'm glad you came. How'd you like it?"

##  **Betta132** **02/23/2019**

Puppet glanced up at Vulcan, then made a casual click-popping noise and shrugged, too focused on watching Aponogee to mind much of anything. The sails really had their attention, and they cocked their helm further, their own little winglets slowly lifting in response. Hello, friend. Intrigued, they leaned in closer and chirped, rather loudly, until Aponogee got the hint and drew closer. Mostly they wanted a close look at the  _ glowing _ , and they got it, stealing Aponogee's arm to inspect the soft areas inside their elbow. 

"-oh. Okay," Aponogee muttered, a bit confused, but made no attempt at escaping. "You really don't match," they added after a moment, still directing their words at Puppet. They hadn't really caught on that they weren't about to get a verbal answer. "Is that on purpose? It looks sort of neat." 

Red ex-vented softly and gave Salvo a gentle squeeze, but curiosity was starting to take over again, and Salvo's presence was chasing away the demons. And there was a lot to be curious about here. "They don't speak, then," Red mused, focused on all the odd little noises. "Is it a physical issue, or... have they not mentally developed to the point of speech yet? And... you are right. I.  _ Was _ a medic. So... a mis-forge? I did meet a few MTOs who had... never quite settled in properly, so to speak," they mused, now tracking the bundle of assorted noises coming from that area. Aponogee's sails shifting and the assorted noises of the larger frame muffled a lot of things. 

.

Arclight looked like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be turned on or concerned, and that look didn't go anywhere as they touched the edge of Spade's valve. "You. You fuckin' okay?" they chuckled, the concern starting to fade a bit as Spade continued to not look like they were in pain. Weren't bleeding, either, so Arclight curled up against Spade's flank again, still with a servo on their fuel tank. "Mech, that's fucked. Think someone... didn't wire all y' sensors in right or somethin'. Which. That makes sense. 'Cos that  _ hurts _ f' other people, what. What you were. Heh. Think I know why y' bad at sex, someone wired yer junk bad at feeling. Gotta. Fuckin'. Upgrade that or somethin'. Or..." 

A pause, and they narrowed their optics to eye Spade's tank, then smirked slightly. "That's. That's fuckin' bizarre, but... you wanna jus'... keep bein' nasty? Still. Still wanna suck you off. An' maybe I can just... grope yer fuckin' organs some. Got no claws right now, so... if gettin' fucked against all them organs didn't hurt any, figure it won't hurt any if I squeeze these a li'l. So. Can just, ah. Go with." 

They were curious, and they wanted to try this out, so... why not. Optics glinting, they slid down the pad a bit, smirking, and rubbed their cheek up against Spade's inner thigh. They'd never, well- hadn't done  _ anything _ with a minibot, but trying to suck a mini's spike might be fun. Probably easier than some of their prior partners. And, fuck, they wanted to hear some of those noises again.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/23/2019**

"Be careful around their sails, Puppet," Vulcan hummed, "I've worked with solar sail material before, it's dreadfully easy to tear. Even though it is quite beautiful." They smiled slightly at Aponogee and continued watching Puppet while they changed the subject, "I suppose mis-forge might be a way to put it... I'm not sure they could classify as an MTO either." They paused, resting their chin on a small servo and sighed, "Contrary to popular belief, it takes a great deal of time and effort to make a frame from scratch. There's organs, piping in energon lines and sensors, and that is on top of perfectly calibrating each piece of armor and strut so that it would properly fit during transformation. Forging everything takes years to master so you don't end up mis-balancing the weight. The alloys have to be mixed according to which structure they're supporting- anyway. It takes years to make a single frame. But during wartime you cannot wait years, so they moved to... a different method.

"The idea was that the natural forging process took a great deal less time to make a functional frame than building one from scratch- a matter of weeks. Someone figured out you could artificially speed up the forging process using a magnetic field, turning weeks into hours. You offer a viable spark a pile of alloy and senito metallico, encourage it to form most of a protoform and then take it out. The..." He frowned, a disgusted look creeping onto his face, "The frame is then taken away to be refined further-given armor, paint, et cetera and the process starts again."

Salvo's helm had perked up as he heard the word MTO and now he sat up, with a horrified look on his face. His fuel tank seemed to sink through his frame as Vulcan continued.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/23/2019**

"They called them ghost sparks..." the mech's optics drifted, tone becoming hurt, "Isn't it terrible- as if they weren't real. No respect for the life held inside. I had a hunch they weren't going to be evacuated out once the war began running Cybertron into the ground so... I took it upon myself to do so. With, of course, the intention to create them custom frames when I had the materials and time. Puppet here, well," they returned to watching the bot, optics soft, "Their spark had been improperly handled and was  trying to attach itself to an unprocessed frame, so... that frame became theirs. And then we fled." A sigh, "So there is almost certainly no precedence for their condition. They are by most standards, I believe, a miracle. I've been looking after them carefully. Any irregularities I tend to chalk up to pre-frame spark abuse. Primus knows if they ever wanted a new frame I would make them one, but I don't think that is in the cards." Their servo drifted to the device on their chassis, which, up close, looked like a nondescript rounded box, "There is another, one final survivor of those I'd rescued without frames, who's the focus of my efforts now. When their frame is ready I suppose we'll see how they compare to Puppet." They seemed almost finished but sat up slightly and added, "And before you ask, I've told the medics this, as well. I may be a fool on occasion but I would never potentially willingly endanger someone's life."

.

Spade looked up at Arclight's face, tired but amused, "Suppose that's what I get for spending my money on something flashy, damn. But it works, I guess." Their optics traveled down to where Arclight still had a servo in their stomach cables and sighed deep, "People tend to think I'm nastier than I am but I guess now I just... am." They gently put a servo over his and tentatively stroked a finger where they could see open tank wall, shuddering with a quiet squeak. Spade frowned again and mumbled, "please don't tell anyone. My reputation is bad enough, people knowing I like this won't help. But while we're here... I've got so little shame."

Spade repositioned themself, leaning back against the berthpad, spreading their legs so Arclight got a good view. They wore a bit of a smirk as their biolights glowed on their half-flaccid spike and valve. As horrifying as finding out they had such a bizarre fetish was, they were legitimately enjoying themself, more than they had in a very long time. "And hey, you got any weird kinks you wanna indulge," a shrug, "lay em on me, I guess."

##  **Betta132** **02/23/2019**

Red now wore an odd look somewhere between intrigue and a quiet sort of sadness. a definite contrast to Reaver's expression of abject horror. Sighing quietly, they shook their helm and spoke low and soft, somewhat hoping Puppet might not hear them. "The idea at even the most simplistic of plants was to keep the sparks permanently in a state of non-sapience. Too undeveloped to experience distress. Not out of any... sense of kindness, of course. Because of how much damage it could do to a frame, and to a facility, if a spark developed enough to experience distress and respond. Stress is bad for the frame. Not a... savory practice, but unlikely to be inherently cruel. If a spark managed to develop, I'd say someone... failed terribly at their job. Was that a... licensed facility?" they asked, quietly, helm cocking towards the noises that Puppet was making. Little, sweet, curious sounds. "And, well. That. That would cause all manner of issues, especially if anyone had attempted to remove them from the frame they ended up seated in. Not to mention... probably a terrible fear of medics." 

"Poor dear," Reaver sighed, watching Red for a little while more. "At least they don't seem to be in any pain. How old are they- do you have any idea of an equivalent?" Reaver asked, then, noticing the unhappiness right up near him, sighed and leaned down to whisper in Salvo's audials. "You are not responsible for the circumstances of your creation, nor for the wrongdoing of your creators. You are responsible only for what you make of your life."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **02/23/2019**

Puppet hadn't really heard any of that, which was probably a good thing. They'd transferred themself over into Aponogee's lap, and were now standing on the spacefarer's leg, servos braced on their shoulder, watching their sails lift and lower and fold. Woah. Gorgeous! They caught and refracted the light in all kinds of fun ways, and Puppet, not noticing or even really  _ feeling _ as Aponogee's servo crept up their back, stayed still and quiet to watch. 

.

"Nobody's else's business," Arclight declared, then leaned down and licked their way up Spade's spike. Oh yeah. That was definitely going to be easier to manage than the alternative. Shifting their one servo so they could slide their fingertips against Spade's fuel tank more smoothly, they braced their other against the smaller bot's side and rubbed, trying to see if there was anywhere easy to fit a fingertip. Where did one grope to reach someone's organs? 

It worked, to no one's surprise at this point, and Arclight wrapped their lips around Spade's re-pressurizing spike. Evidently their valve wasn't all that sensitive, so Arclight left it alone entirely, reaching instead for more sensitive areas. Optics dim, they sucked leisurely on Spade's spike and began to rub more in earnest against what they could reach of Spade's innards, taking advantage of the sensitivity as much as they possibly could. Which... turned out to be surprisingly relaxing. Soft, repetitive motions, no stress, just exploring how Spade responded to. Well. Admittedly, it was a very strange kink, but... they were pretty sure this was fine.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/23/2019**

Vulcan was silent for a bit. When they finally spoke their voice had a slight strained whine to it, "I don't believe it was a legitimate facility, no. There were... uniforms I recognized. They were running so..." They pushed down the echoes of explosions in the distance as quickly as they could, "I-I apologize, I have a hard time recalling anything of that day without summoning some mighty terror. I managed to get out alive with them and a dozen or so sparks in storage I'd taken from the closest plant I knew of and that's what matters."  Optics fluttering closed for a moment they took a deep breath and changed subject, "Reaver, I think it'd be difficult to quite put them on a comparable knowledge level. Their development hasn't quite been linear. To say they have the intelligence of a sparkling would not only be wrong it would be reductive. They do have the curiosity of one, though." He smiled slightly, "I get the feeling they know they have a lot to learn but they aren't daunted by it. I don't know what you'd call that..." They reached out to gently rest a servo on the bot's helm, more for themself than anything else, "Precious Puppet, remember to get permission before you touch anything."

Salvo meanwhile was reeling. His vents had a shudder to them. He looked at Reaver, expression tinted by despair, "I feel... dirty,  _ wrong. _ How can-" he looked down at his servo, shaking, "how can I  _ possibly _ talk about taking advantage of the weak when I- when I'm-" He felt sick. This frame was not his.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/23/2019**

Vulcan started upwards, leaning forward onto their knees. Salvo was in distress again but this time they could help. They simply stared at him for a moment, optics wavering, "No, no, Salvo."

"Is this true?" Salvo snapped. The look of pain on his face hurt Vulcan at their core.

"It- it is but that's not the point. You were not made that way. Your frame is yours, it has been since the start."

"How the fuck would you know." 

"Because," A deep breath, "I made it. I made it for you."

"No- I'm an MTO-"

"You are. You were a-a requisition from the Autobot contingent. They wanted someone who could lead-"

"No"

"I was told you started out as an officer-"

"No- you didn't-"

"Salvo," Vulcan's voice was wavering, filled with unconditional love, "Sweet Salvo, I know you likely don't remember me- I never heard of you after. But you're alive, you're here."

Salvo was silent, shaking, staring at Vulcan. And then Vulcan began to hum, a slow song, distinct as some sort of lullaby and Salvo froze, "No, stop" he whispered.

Vulcan's optics lit up as they tentatively began to sing,  _ "Salvo, sweet the moon is here, though sun has taken leave from here, I beg you please don't fret my dear, he will rise ag-" _

"STOP," Salvo began to shake, "stop it." A revelatory pall descended over his face as he stared at Vulcan- the  _ song. _

.

"A-ah fuck," Spade gasped at the sensation. Now that they knew on some level what to expect, the sudden flood of input didn't catch them by surprise. They could actually enjoy this- to an extent, part of them still couldn't believe they were doing this. It was warm inside their frame, things seemed to be in constant motion. Their hips twitched as Arclight's fingers explored deeper, brushing against each new surface. Their spike pressurized quick. It gave off strange tingles of charge as Arclight's glossa touched the gold accents. It wasn't difficult to see the striations on their stomach cables contracting to his careful stimulation. Oddly their cables relaxed fairly quickly, as if their frame knew that this kind of pleasure was contingent on space to move around. 

Every time Arclight found a new spot, Spade let out a guilty high-pitched whine. They hooked a pede around the other side of his helm and decided the best use of their servos was to grab the nearest blanket. Energon lines on their frame began to glow brighter again. Spade was torn between looking down at what Arclight was doing or saving themself the embarrassment of having a visual memory of their weird kink. Their optics fluttered as his fingers found a knot of sensor wires and energon lines, "Primus,  _ fuck _ how am I -nn- gonna... gonna deal with the medics now."

##  **Betta132** **02/23/2019**

Red planted themself against Salvo again, but this time firmly between him and Vulcan, their armor lifting out in an aggressive manner. What- Salvo's  _ creator _ , was- 

They wouldn't have gotten in the way with this, not ordinarily, but, Primus- Salvo was  _ shaking _ , Vulcan wasn't backing down despite that, and, dear Primus, Vulcan had built- they'd put- 

Shaking a bit but  _ angry _ more than anything, they stood up and bristled further, radiating a certain degree of fury. "Y-you're upsetting him,  _ back off _ , you don't get- don't get to- do you know what a Matrix  _ is _ ? It's a  _ control device _ , it- it warps, twists,  _ corrupts _ someone, it- it tries to shape them into t-the perfect leader by its standards, it's a  _ well documented _ process, the personality shift happens in  _ every _ case where the bot wasn't already  _ like _ that, it- you can't just build someone with- with a space for a-a  _ manipulator _ like that, you can't  _ do _ that, you- back  _ off _ , you don't get to just- just  _ come in here _ and- and act like the person you built to be  _ controlled _ should- should be  _ glad _ to see you!"

Puppet wasn't terribly good at focusing on more than one thing at a time, not yet. The touch got their attention, and they trilled like a gently disturbed cat, turning to look at Vulcan. From there, their optics traveled over to Salvo, and they listened for just long enough to pick up on- oh! Vulcan liked to talk about siblings, about- Salvo! Was Salvo a sibling, then? What- oh, the little blind one looked very unhappy, and Puppet retreated a fraction. They didn't really know what to do here. At all. Except... watch, listen, and press tight to Vulcan's flank in an effort to protect them. Oh no.

.

Arclight made a noise that vaguely resembled "not my problem", because it wasn't! Spade's attempted concern about composure in other situations wasn't important, and Arclight was having fun. Purring, they laved their spike along the underside of Spade's spike and bobbed their helm slightly, sucking firmly as they caressed-

Caressed Spade's organs,  _ fuck _ this was strange, but it was made calmer and softer by the lack of pain on anyone's part. And, nngh, the leg around his helm, the sensation of the blankets shifting under him as Spade braced. Oh. Primus. Felt like any other blowjob, that much of it, albeit without a spike shoving its way down his throat. Blowjobs were good and all, sure, but they were a bit less than comfortable with someone too big. Spade, mm. Not a problem with Spade. No wonder people had minibot kinks! Easy to handle, easy to shift and to suck, no need to worry about walking funny tomorrow. Except maybe on the mini's part, hm. Spade was clearly having fun, though! And would... hopefully not be in any pain later. Might be a bit sore. 

Maybe minibots just stretched further than larger bots. 

Optics flicking up to Spade's face, he purred low in his throat around Spade's spike and began to suck harder, rubbing and gently pinching at what they were fairly sure was something sensory-related. It felt a bit like a node. Just... in Spade's side somewhere. Fun to find out what it was.

February 24, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/24/2019**

The smile on Vulcan's face fled in horror of what they'd wrought, "It  _ what, _ " they whispered. Their optics flicked from Red to Salvo and back, "I... didn't..." Salvo was breathing heavily behind Red. "I only wanted the best for you-" He continued, "I wanted you to have every opportunity-"

"Like  _ mind control, _ " Salvo cried, "As if  _ anyone _ would give an MTO- give  _ me _ the matrix. What a sick fucking joke."

Vulcan's vents wheezed. They didn't know how to respond to that. Suddenly Salvo stood up. He put a steady servo on Red's shoulder. His entire energy changed to an outward calm only Red was close enough to identify as a flimsy floodgate. His servo twitched in a partial squeeze as he looked at Reaver then back towards Vulcan, "Stay here Red, I'm going to settle this." 

He was careful as he pushed past Red, the kind of exceedingly careful that only came with the utmost effort not to lash out. Vulcan stood up to meet him, a confused look on their face.

"I'd like to speak with you outside," Salvo said quietly, "alone."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/24/2019**

He didn't wait for an answer and made a few measured steps out the door. Vulcan didn't know what to think. True, hashing out this kind of problem in front of others wasn't the most appealing idea. They settled down a bit, ignoring what Red had said and gently pried Puppet off their side, "It'll only be a minute, dear, I'll be back."

Salvo's fist connected with the force of a cannonball the instant they stepped out the door. They staggered into the wall, a vague look of horror on their face. The second blow knocked them to the ground with a loud  _ wham. _ They felt the warm drip of energon leak from their nose.

" _ That _ was for bothering Red," Salvo shouted. He straddled their chassis and used one servo to pick them up by the collar while the other landed another punch, "And that was for me." His voice broke, "Do you know what it's  _ like _ living with live ammo so close to your fucking  _ spark. _ " His words boomed through the halls, "No way to change back to root on my own? So someone could shoot me  _ dry. _ So I could die without even putting up a  _ fight. _ " He raised his fist for another blow. Vulcan flinched. Some of his anger bled out a little, "Why did you  _ make _ me like this? Just a  _ fucking _ gun-a tool of destruction. No hope of being anything else- anything  _ more. _ " He flung his visor off, throwing it violently into the opposing wall. It cracked into several pieces before settling on the floor. Salvo's optics were sparking underneath, "why did you make me like  _ this. _ "

##  **Malusdraco** **02/24/2019**

Vulcan's head lolled forward to look at Salvo. They could barely think. One of Salvo's punches had cracked their optic. Their tears mingled with the energon steadily flowing from what was certainly a broken line somewhere in their nasal cavity. All they could focus on was Salvo's face, the pain contained therein, "I'm s- I'm sorry," they whispered through a hiccuping sob, "I only wanted what was best for you. I o- I only wanted you to- to have any opportunity you could have wanted. I was a fool. I'm sorry."

Salvo's fist lowered.

"You don't have to forgive me. I'll leave you alone- you'll never see me." Vulcan continued, "I-I just." A new wave of tears fell from their optics, "I want to tell you I'm proud of you." static tugged at their voice, "I heard about your group- how you kept them alive. You  _ saved _ them. And- and Red, too."

"I didn't save them-" Salvo mumbled, his anger was gone.

"You  _ did- _ " Vulcan insisted, "you brought them here- you saved  _ all _ of them. You're courageous and-and kind- everything I'd hoped you'd be and more and-" their voice wavered as they broke down into sobs, "I'm so  _ incredibly _ proud of you."

Salvo was silent as tears streamed down his cheeks. His servo began to shake, loosening his grip on Vulcan's collar until they dropped to the floor. He staggered to the side and fell to his knees, shoulders shaking as he leaned forward into Vulcan's side and sobbed hard into both servos.(edited)

.

##  **Betta132** **02/24/2019**

Red's anger ebbed away as they started to realize that maybe Vulcan hadn't known, then bristled up further when they remembered everything  _ else _ . Tense and angry, they listened as the two left the room, fidgeting in place and trying to listen. A dim impression of yelling, that much was understandable, and then... silence. As far as Red could tell through the door. 

Silence might not be good in this context. Red swayed anxiously on their pedes, then sat and looked up at Reaver, worried. "You should go check on them," they suggested, quietly, helm cocked to try to listen through the door.

"I am going to check up on them," Reaver declared, standing up, and didn't manage to get to the door before Puppet darted through. 

Puppet, winglets up, optics wide, zipped through the door with surprising speed and right into Vulcan. Well, they did literally run into Vulcan, not really on purpose, but that worked well enough, and they latched on tight. Optics huge, they stared up at Vulcan's face, then around at everything else, looking for the culprit. It didn't seem like it had been Salvo, because Salvo was- well, Salvo was curled up and crying, that- it must have been someone else, must- Puppet growled a low, shaky, unease noise, clinging to Vulcan, staring around in a desperate attempt to figure out where the threat was.

"Ah, of course," Reaver muttered, and, eyeing the situation rather cautiously, slowly knelt in front of the whole slagging mess. "Let me just... have a look at you," he coaxed, and reached to take Vulcan's chin carefully in his fingertips, coaixng them to look up a bit. "Open your optics, now... tilt your helm back, come on, let's just stop you bleeding before it's all over you. Looks like Salvo needs a moment, anyway, but... come on, need to make sure you're not too badly hurt. It's all right, Puppet- they're okay, doesn't look too terrible, and I don't think you'll have to worry about anything further. It's all right, dear," he crooned, and let his field extend and purr around all three of them, trying to calm the situation. He would have been more worried if Salvo had still been doing anything violent, but... right now, it looked like he was probably just going to cry for a little while. "You  _ have _ made some questionable choices in designing a living being," Reaver muttered as an addendum, gently tilting Vulcan's helm slightly.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/24/2019**

Spade's helm fell back, optics fluttering. They arched their back, presenting more of their bare stomach cables for Arclight's inspection. The attention to their spike finally seemed to catch up with the rest of what was going on, as comparatively weak as it was. They let out a happy trill as Arclight sucked again, bucking their hips. Charge returned quicker than they'd expected, the energon lines on their frame glowing considerably brighter. Suddenly they flinched, letting out a quiet hiss. Arclight's fingers had pressed a bit hard against something extra sensitive, "Ah- what-" they flinched again, "not- no, what is that?" The sensation was slow to leave even as they felt Arclight's servo move somewhere else.

Spade frowned, cables still twitching where their interior node had been touched, "That was- ow. Don't-not so hard- no pinching." They didn't look angry, not in the slightest, if anything a bit disgusted at themself, as once again the question of "what were they  _ doing _ " popped into their head, "the, uhh, what you were doing before it- that was good." A self-pitying smile through their blush, "don't know what I like yet."

.

February 25, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/25/2019**

It took a minute for Vulcan's vents to slow, for the pain from their face to take over for the pain in their spark. It did catch up with them, though, their cracked optic shifting as they looked around. Whatever they'd said, it'd hit Salvo probably as hard as he'd hit them. He had the telltale gasping sobs of a bot who hadn't been able to properly cry about himself for all too long. They reserved their first somewhat-calm words for him, "So,  _ so _ proud. And I'm sorry. If you can stand me, I'll do what I can to fix your frame. I  _ can _ make it better for you, and I will. I'll keep trying to make it right until the day we part forever." They tentatively lifted an arm to rest a servo on the back of Salvo's helm but paused, unsure how he would react. Very softly, they went for it, touching Salvo's crest with the tips of their fingers, "You'll always have a place with me, should you want it."

Salvo's field was a mixture of pain and equal parts sorrow and relief. Vulcan could feel a shift as their servo touched his helm and  was encouraged to continue, easing into slow, deliberate pets. They nodded gratefully at Reaver and turned their attention to Puppet who seemed more shaken than most. Reaching a large servo to pet between their winglets they crooned, "Oh I'm okay, dear. It hurts some but you don't need to worry. Reaver's got me." A smile, as they ruffled the bot's plates, "thanks for coming to my rescue."

By now Salvo had quieted down quite a bit. He looked up and was watching Puppet, now with a new gaze, optics raw but exceedingly gentle. For a while he simply stared, watching their movements, thinking. When he spoke his voice was uncharacteristically weak, "You're doing good, kid. Got your priorities in order."

A few more silent moments and Salvo pushed himself up again with a heavy sigh. He stood quietly for a klik then turned around and reached out a wordless servo to Vulcan. The mech lay there stupefied but accepted the offer, reaching back to grab the pieces of Salvo's visor from the floor with an unused arm before he pulled them back up to standing. They flinched once vertical as the energon in their face shifted to further accentuate their bleeding nose and injured optic. Salvo sighed, "Sorry."

"Immediately forgiven. Your anger was justified," Vulcan mumbled, leaning an arm on Reaver for stability as the group walked back towards the room, "Can't say I would have done the same but, think I would have been just as angry."

 

##  **Betta132** **02/25/2019**

Puppet followed Vulcan up, swaying worse in their dismay as they clung on for support, but were particularly focused on the petting. Helm cocked, they watched Salvo for a moment or three, then, glancing hesitantly back to Vulcan, transferred themself over to Salvo. Another glance back at Vulcan, then they reached up to stroke Salvo's crest. A bit shakily. They hadn't tried petting anyone who wasn't Vulcan, and there was a crest here! Closest they'd come to petting was climbing on other people they'd met, so this was new, but it... appeared to be what was going on now. So that's what they did! Albeit rather awkwardly due to having to walk right up close to Salvo. It involved running into him slightly every few steps.

Reaver helped Vulcan through the door, hauled a chair over, and sat them down, immediately tilting their helm back to try and stem the flow of energon. "They're largely fine, but Salvo's opted to punch Vulcan in the face a few times," he informed Red, then turned his attention to Aponogee. Who looked  _ very _ worried. "It's all right. There's a lot of vessels in the nasal cavity to keep the scent sensors well-energized, so a punch in the right place involves a lot of bleeding, but it's fine. It should stop soon. We... may want to have a medic look at this optic, though, I'm not sure whether the lens will need to be swapped out. Someone has quite an arm on him."

Red looked even smaller than usual, tucked up into a ball in the center of the tarp, following the noises with their helm. Specifically, Salvo- they wanted him back, but they'd realized that they didn't know where the paint was around them, and they weren't completely confident in their ability to walk on a tarp. They didn't particularly feel like speaking, though, so they stayed like they were- tucked up, servos under their chin for protection, trying to pick out exactly where Salvo was. The noises were a bit covered up by the noises of Puppet's... whatever that was, though, making him harder to follow.

 

"Oh no," Aponogee whispered, looking terribly nervous, and fit themself into a corner as though they'd forgotten that they were larger than everyone else in the room. They did look much smaller now, despite the sails- curled up with their armor clamped down tight. They didn't know what to  _ do _ here. 

.

Arclight made a muffled noise of apology and went back to the things that had gotten all the good responses. Gentle rubs against particularly slick areas, against- oh,  _ hello _ . A terribly filthy idea ran through Arclight's mind, and he slipped his fingers out of Spade's stomach cables to dip them into their  _ valve _ instead, slicking them up thoroughly, then pressed them firmly into Spade's stomach again. They'd already gotten transfluid into everywhere, might as well add in some lubricant to slick things up further. And it did make some... delightfully  _ lewd _ noises, rubbing over Spade's fuel tank with his fingers slicked up like this. 

This was  _ interesting _ . People usually responded differently to having their spike sucked. Spade was rather acting as if it was a background thing. Hopefully it would help to distract Spade, at least, they kept getting that...  _ look _ at them. Arclight probably ought to also have that look, they considered, but- no. No shame. No fucking shame for something that was getting such good sounds out of Spade. Therefore, they shuttered their optics for a moment to bob their helm in long, slow motions, then opened their optics and looked up at Spade, purring as deep as they could manage. Nngh.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/25/2019**

Salvo was surprised when Puppet walked next to him and paused to let them get a good feel for his crest- he didn't particularly mind. He did almost stumble a few times as Puppet knocked into him, though, and reached an arm around to grab the bot's other shoulder in an attempt to keep them slightly more stable. He slowly made his way around the seated Vulcan back towards Red, carefully pulling Puppet away from the open paint pots on the floor. He gave them a slight smile then let go and sat down next to Red, slowly but gently tugging their frame closer. His field read something raw and tired, but relatively calm. 

"You looked so sad sitting on the ground alone. It's okay," Salvo said quietly, the slightest hint of distortion still clinging to his vocalizer. He put a servo on their back between their winglets, having checked before there wasn't currently wet paint there, "Puppet's here too- you should sit down with us, kid- think I want to get to know you a little more." He offered them his unoccupied servo.

Vulcan, so distracted watching Salvo and Puppet, was pulled back to Reaver when he noticed a fat drip of their own energon land in their lap. They sat back into the chair, helm back, looking Reaver in the face. They winced as they felt part of their broken optic shift. "Is that a good sign?" they murmured, quiet enough to not be heard by the group, "you know him better than I do." They chanced another glance at everyone and spotted Aponogee hiding, frowned slightly, then spoke up, "Aponogee dear, it's alright. If you want to come look, I've dealt with much worse."

.

Spade looked down to see what Arclight was doing and a very lewd smile tugged at their mouth. "Gonna need a deep clean after this," they muttered before closing their optics and letting out a quiet but emphatic " _ ah fuck _ " as Arclight got going. They weren't expecting to last very long, finding their charge skyrocketing. They gripped the blankets with both servos and threw their other leg over Arclight's shoulder. Their vents kicked on aggressively as inside their frame began to heat up even more. Their optics seemed to waver, glowing bright under half-lids. Their spike was pressurized only a few steps behind pain. The gold detailing fizzed and sparked in Arclight's mouth as their charge built higher until-

Spade whimpered, legs clamping around Arclight's shoulders their back arched all at once as overload rocketed up their belly, ripping their breath away with a high-pitched keen. Their hips thrust into his mouth as hot transfluid gushed from the tip. After a few moments Spade went limp. Their optics rolled back to meet Arclight's with a grateful glimmer.

##  **Betta132** **02/25/2019**

Puppet hesitated, looking back and forth between Salvo and Vulcan, and chirruped uncertainly. Who did they go to? Vulcan was hurt, but Salvo- Salvo was someone new who they were trying to make friends with, who had invited them, who was... sad. They weren't completely sure about emotions in other people yet -heck, still working on their own-, but that looked like sad. And Vulcan... Vulcan was bleeding some, but he seemed okay. He wasn't acting too much like anything was wrong. And, if Puppet went and got in Vulcan's lap... they'd get in the way, wouldn't they? And possibly bump into their face and make it worse. So, after another moment, they sat down next to Salvo. And next to Red, hello Red. Huh- Red couldn't see them. That could be. That would be something. Puppet eyed Red for a moment, then shut their optics and cocked their helm as if to look around. It didn't work. Hm! They wouldn't like to not be able to see anything.

"Salvo," Red breathed, hugging him gratefully, their field shy and thin but trying to be comforting. "Oh. Primus. Oh, I'm sorry... that's... that's a lot, are you okay? Did you-" a slight pause and a little snort "hurt your servo on their face?" they asked, and pushed their face into his chassis, hugging him tight. Primus. What did they do here? Reassurance? Anger? Salvo seemed... tired, more than anything, not angry any more, but that didn't clear much up about what Red should do.

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen him have to deal with this sort of thing. It's a rather unusual circumstance, you know," Reaver observed, and lifted his helm slightly as Aponogee ventured closer. "It's all right... see? Vulcan... that optic looks like it needs attention. Which of the medics do you want me to call to come and replace the lens? Because that's..." he paused, tilting Vulcan's helm to just about stare at the offending optic "not likely to heal properly. It might if we had no other options, but, thankfully, we have options. Salvo, if you decide you want to punch someone in future, you may want to aim for somewhere other than their general optic area. Upper flank can be a satisfying place to hit, but you're less likely to actually damage anything beyond some bruising. Not, ah. Not that I spend much time resolving my personal issues with violence," he added, glancing over to the rest of the room. Mostly to Aponogee, who had gotten close enough to fill up most of his field of vision. "It's all right, Aponogee. They just need a replacement lens, nothing to be worried about." 

"You're... you seem pretty sure," Aponogee decided, very softly, and sat down next to the chair. 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/25/2019**

Arclight happily rode out Spade's overload, squeezing just a fraction harder, and swallowed as much as he could. The conductive gold popped static against his glossa, and they groaned quiet pleasure around Spade's spike, slowly lifting their helm up and off. Mm. Definitely easier to suck than prior, oversized partners. Mm. "Figured you out," they declared, quietly triumphant, and crept up to settle their helm against Spade's side. "Fuckin'. Messy kinkster.  _ Messy _ fucker," they laughed, then shuddered and curled up tighter, hauling the blankets up over them both. Fuck. This. This was good, so good, but it was. Fuck. There was something. 

Shivering a bit, they hugged Spade close and tight, face pushed into his side for. Warmth? Comfort? Scent? Didn't know, didn't really care, they just needed to  _ hold _ . Fuck. This. This fucking.  _ Emotions _ , what the fuck. And things had been- were going- oh, shit, Spade. 

They couldn't take their face out of Spade's side, but they did raise their voice enough to be heard. A bit muffled, a bit rough, but steady enough. "This ain't 'cos of the fucking! The fucking's great."

February 26, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/26/2019**

Salvo felt some of his tension bleed away at the sensation of Red pressed into him. He sighed and gave them a flicker of a smile, "lotta emotions in a very short span of time. Feel like I'm being pulled five ways at once." a pause, he looked down to examine the dull ache that came from his servo only to find his knuckle plates bent outward from the middle, "Definitely didn't come out of that  _ entirely _ unscathed either. Hmm. I think I'm pretty good at punching for someone who... really shouldn't be punching."He straightened up, fixing his posture so he looked less sad, "I'll live." 

Salvo pulled Red closer and let his injured servo rest on their arm, "I got a lot more things to think about now. I've got... family, now. I guess. More legitimate than the Choir or you and me- in name at least." He turned to Puppet just in time to catch them with optics closed and chuckled a bit, "What are you doing, kid. Anyway I'm sorry about the kinda mean things I said earlier. I was more worried about you than anything else but you seem pretty okay." He put a careful servo on their shoulder, unsure where contact would be alright and paused as the idea hit that they could be considered brothers- not that he particularly knew what that entailed aside from being related. He decided he wanted to make a good impression and leaned over just slightly to catch their optics before giving them the biggest, toothiest smile he could manage.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/26/2019**

"Ah he's not listening," Vulcan said, staring once again. Part of him relaxed as he saw Salvo smile at Puppet. He didn't think Salvo was about to hurt the bot but that seemed a pretty good indicator he wouldn't. They sighed dramatically, "To lose an optical lens with custom coloring... Perhaps I'll fix it on my own once I have the time. Patches doesn't seem too judgmental, I quite like him. I don't know how the others would react to my saying I'd been injured by my s..." a pause, a slight smile, "my son." 

Now that Aponogee was closer, Vulcan couldn't help getting a better look at them. He brought a big servo up to caress their helm only to find it still carried the pieces of Salvo's visor. He glanced back towards the mech, who seemed unfazed if not just simply distracted, and deposited the shards in his own lap. He'd fix that too. Second try and he landed, thumb petting gently between their antennae. They gave them a warm smile, " _ My, _ you're pretty, dear. It's clear someone put a lot of careful thought into the design of your frame. I should hope they cared a great deal about- hang on," they leaned in a little closer, optics narrowing. Something didn't quite look right- was that. They shifted their servo to tip Aponogee's chin back slightly, exposing more of their neck to the light. They flipped a magnifying lens down over their working optic, "Now that doesn't quite look right. Tidy weld marks... and they lead," they tilted their helm back just the slightest bit more, "Right under your jaw. New, too. Dear, what- dam _ nation! _ " They felt a big drop of energon fall from their face and pulled all the way back, servos rushing to their nose, tilting their helm back so  they wouldn't drip any more, "I am... so dreadfully sorry dear spacefarer, I believe I might have dripped on you."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/26/2019**

Spade startled a bit at Arclight's sudden grab, but settled quickly. They scanned their optics from their absolutely devastated-looking frame to where Arclight's helm pushed into their side. A low hum, it was bound to happen eventually. With a sigh they returned to looking at their stretched stomach cables, where Arclight's servos still clung to their frame. They weren't expecting to feel as good as they did. They felt... nothing. They weren't thinking about how he could absolutely destroy them anymore, nor were they thinking about what he could have planted in their frame. Their processor was blissfully silent. It wouldn't stay this way though, they knew, they got the feeling. Whether it was Arclight who'd unlocked this mental reprieve, or simply the circumstances, they couldn't tell. They  _ could _ tell that their processor would probably have a field day with this whole thing, to what extent they didn't know. Looks like Arclight's feelings hit first.

"Guess our time's up then," Spade said, solemnly, "only so long we can pretend our problems don't exist- chase the demons away..." They trailed off and gently wrapped their arms around what they could hold of Arclight's shoulders. It felt right, "I really enjoyed this," they said quietly, "I won't leave until you need me to."

##  **Betta132** **02/26/2019**

Puppet wasn't sure what that expression was. A blink, then two, then they went with something that tended to work. Some of that was, though they didn't know it, because their measure was charming. Namely, mimicry. Straightening their helm and lowering their plating to match Salvo's posture, they bared a surprisingly sharp set of dentae in a fairly unnerving grin, optics wide and bright and making it far worse. It didn't come across as friendly, more... slightly psychotic. To be fair, Salvo didn't look much better. Puppet held the expression for a moment, then lowered their helm slightly and chirped to Red. Wait- shit. How were they going to... anything to Red? They mostly got things acros with gestures. That wasn't going to work here, was it? 

Red had reached a similar conclusion, and was listening to Puppet, one servo straying towards them. "Hello. We're going to have some trouble communicating, I think," they mused quietly, and traced a fingertip along the brace on Puppet's arm. "Ah, I see. For stability. You certainly sound active enough that I wouldn't want to try to confine you to crutches," they noted, servos continuing to trace up Puppet's frame. They jumped sharply when Puppet touched them in return, but relaxed again when they realized who it was, and offered Salvo a tiny smile. "You  _ do _ have... something of a sibling now, don't you? I was a planet-sprout... no siblings. Not really."

Aponogee leaned into their touches, optics starting to focus on Vulcan. They were liking the touches, too, until it got to the thing about... caring. That took them a few seconds to figure out, but when they did, the soft curiosity faded away behind something... almost harsh. They swayed in place, their optics focused more intently, and they slowly raised their sails to their full height. Not an aggressive display, just... showing the sails. "These are my sails. They let me get energy from stars. But  _ only _ from stars. The mech who made me was doing an experiment, to see if Cybertronians can run entirely off of solar power. I have scars there to add parts. Because he built me without a fuel tank. Or a throat. Or a mouth. I... guess he probably cared about his experiment. Really, he must have cared a lot about it. Because... he didn't help me." 

Their voice got much softer, and their sails lowered again, optics flickering away from Vulcan's. "I don't remember very much. I've been... starving most of my life. That's what happens when you don't drink any energon. Even with solar sails. You start starving, and your frame runs out of spare materials and starts... eating into your plating to keep more important things intact. But I remember he didn't...  _ do _ anything to help me. I guess he just. Wanted to see how long it would take for me to die. I... still don't feel how, I think, people usually do," they sighed, looking down at their servos. "Everything is blurry most of the time. And I can't... I think slow. They had to wire a little energon tank into my veins before they could fix me, so I wouldn't  _ die _ . So." 

Looking much smaller than usual, they brought a servo up to touch the scars along their lower jaw. "He probably cared about his experiment. But I don't think he cared about me." 

.

##  **Betta132** **02/26/2019**

" _ No _ leaving," Arclight declared, and followed it up with a long and rambling string of curse words. Tightening their grip slightly, they clutched Spade close and ex-vented softly, then chuckled- a bit raspily at this point. "Could just. Keep. Either be drunk or be fucking. Don't wanna think. Got. Got too much t' think about. Won't. Can't," he declared, and brought one of Spade's servos up to the back of his helm, trying to curl up into their lap as much as possible. He wanted. He just. He wanted to be  _ touched _ , and he wanted a distraction, and he didn't want to think or hear or  _ anything _ . He didn't want to  _ exist _ in any moment other than what he'd been doing an instant ago. He didn't. He couldn't, because to exist outside of a distracting enough moment meant having to  _ think _ . And he wanted to get up and move, to run, to flee, to- to do  _ something _ other than to sit here, but to do anything but sit here would mean that he wouldn't be touching Spade any more. And he couldn't leave Spade. 

So he stayed. Vents hitching, frame trembling slightly, holding Spade close like a teddy bear and trying to pretend he was okay. Why he was pretending, he didn't know. They both knew it was a lie.

February 27, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/27/2019**

Vulcan's plating shot up angrily at the idea someone would simply be observed until they died. One optic wavered while the broken one leaked a steady stream of tears, "No.  _ No. _ That's not right-  _ no. _ By Primus, you can't just-" Their volume rose considerably, "It is your  _ responsibility _ when you bring someone into the world to take  _ care _ of them. It is your  _ obligation. _ If you cannot love your creations unconditionally, with your entire  _ spark _ you are  _ NOT _ suited to create. No  _ fuel tank- _ " their larger servos were gripping the chair, "How can someone watch- do nothing- as their child faded away?" The idea upset them immensely, "Monsters, the lot of them." They were breathing heavily, finding their nose turned quickly into an energon spout when they were angry.

Salvo turned towards the noise, in time to catch Vulcan still angry. He frowned, "well aren't you a hypocrite."

"You!" Vulcan pointed a finger at Salvo and got up from the chair, swaying slightly under the weight of their helm, "I may have been a fool, but what I did was what I thought at the time would be best for you. I will do my best for you. I will right my wrongs, if you will allow me to." He was swaying hard now, and collapsed back on the chair, "And no matter what, Salvo, I will love you. Always.  _ Unconditionally. _ Just as I love Puppet and..." they put their face in their servo, "And Atlas before them, and Forte, and Capo, and Glissando..." they leaned forward, energon mingling with tears again, "Pleiades, Mercury, Dorian, Phrygian, Helior..." They looked tired, small, for the first time, "And every single newspark I coaxed from the ground.  _ Every _ one of them, by Primus."

##  **Malusdraco** **02/27/2019**

They were silent for a while and Salvo simply sat back. He didn't know what to say. When Vulcan had said they'd fix him earlier, he didn't think they'd meant it. But maybe now, this was the second time. He took a deep in-vent and found something inside himself trembling. He could feel the weight on Vulcan's shoulders. It felt almost like his own.

When Vulcan pulled themself together again to speak they turned to Aponogee, using a tiny servo to wipe away at the stream of energon on their face, "You have been dealt an unjust hand, Aponogee. If you believe I could help you, in any way, all you must do is say so. I'm here." They reached out a clean servo to lay their palm on the top of the other's helm, "Mods, armor replacement, if you would really like a new frame, even, I can do that. You will not go uncared for again."

.

Spade was quiet for a long while, simply petting the back of Arclight's helm. They didn't quite know how to articulate what was on their mind. They attempted a quiet purr but it sputtered out quick. It was hard to think about, going back to everything- the fear, the paranoia. But it was inevitable. They'd known from the beginning this was going to be difficult. They'd known before they tried to get drunk that they'd collapse eventually and return to hating themself. They'd known the second they felt the pain of trying to rip their chassis plate in two that the road would be the worst thing they'd ever faced head-on. Why else would they want to badly to die. But they'd also found they couldn't. Not at first, but gradually. However heinous recovery was going to be they knew they'd return to it. 

They wondered.

"I knew a mech once," Spade said, voice heavy, "Took a breakup real bad.  _ Real _ bad. Missed enough work to get an inquiry, started using and misusing a lot. Eventually he got transferred out of my area." They looked down at the top of Arclight's helm, "couple years later I found out he'd died. Overdose. That's what happens." They held him closer, "You try to avoid all your problems- keep yourself distracted- and you kill yourself." Their voice distorted slightly, "N-now I was just startin' to like you. I don't want that to happen, Arclight." A shaking sigh, "I-I thought that was gonna be my fate too. But I can't. I couldn't. We... we just gotta keep going back. Gotta keep facing it. Or else we'll-" a quiet sob, "we'll just die, you know?"

##  **Betta132** **02/27/2019**

Aponogee shrunk up even smaller, optics sad, until Reaver gripped their shoulder and practically hauled them over. "O-oh. Okay. I'm, uh. Thank you?" they ventured, not sure how to respond but knowing that something in them purred at the outrage on their behalf, and huddled against Reaver for comfort. Sure, they were sitting on the floor, but they were leaning on Reaver. It was comfortable enough. And they could push their helm into Vulcan's servos, which they did, pondering the offer they'd just been given. It seemed... a bit too big of a thing to take in all at once, but they tried. And they came out with a reasonably distinct conclusion. Touches soft, they took Vulcan's servo in their own and nuzzled into it, then spoke, soft but steady. "I think... I think I like this frame. My optics don't work so well up close, but... Patches said to... wait and try to let them adjust. And that I can get glasses if not. And I like my sails. Nothing... hurts. I don't think I have anything that's going to  _ keep _ not working right. I like my frame, and I" a pause, and a tiny, stiff shudder, "I don't want to be cut open for anything. I don't."

Reaver watched Vulcan for a moment, then ex-vented long and slow, sighed, and more or less slid into the chair next to Vulcan. It was a large chair, there was enough room for him if he was halfway straddling the arm. "I still question your decision-making, but... I am convinced of your intent," he murmured, putting an arm around Vulcan and squeezing. "I'll give you a few moments before I call a medic to look at this. But, please, helm  _ back _ . You can make your declarations while looking at the ceiling," he scolded, very softly, bringing the servo not currently around Vulcan up to nudge their helm back. "Ceiling."

Puppet whined, bumped their helm into Salvo once more, and staggered to their pedes. It was a mess. Anxiety interfered with their subconscious control of their uncooperative frame, so they weren't walking particularly straight as they moved over to Vulcan. They couldn't stay away, though. Instead, they climbed into Vulcan's lap, tottering a bit but moving as carefully as they could, and sprawled out to hopefully avoid running into Vulcan's face at all. That, at least, worked! They did, however, wind up draped in an odd position. Oh well.

.

##  **Betta132** **02/27/2019**

Arclight stayed quiet for a few moments, then sighed, ex-venting softly. "Don't wanna die," he decided, then, much softer, "not any more." 

Curled up tight around Spade's frame, they gave him another little squeeze, then sighed again. "You can't die either. No dying. If I can't die, you can't either," he declared, and curled up to scritch one audial against Spade's flank. "Ugh. Wann' get drunk, though. The... li'l chemistry twins, they're. Fuck, they're cute. If'n I had... didn't think I'd... fuckin' start screamin' if anyone touched me, I'd. Think I'd wann' try'n kiss 'em. Li'l. Speckled faces. Cute. And they got  _ booze _ ," they muttered into Spade's flank. "Fuck. Gonna. Only... only drunk sometimes. Li'l bit of drunk sometimes. But- but  _ he _ can go- not  _ anything _ , 'cos he's  _ dead _ , and I get to be  _ alive _ , and fuck him," Arclight declared triumphantly, or as triumphantly as they could manage, and squirmed up slightly to press Spade to their chassis. Nice and firmly. Right. Right over the. 

A deep vent to gather themself, then they brought one of Spade's servos up to their frame and pressed it to their chassis. "Hey. Fuckin'. Touch those. I like. Like you. Wanna. I got fuckin'... things in m' brain. Gotta replace them." 

That made sense. Right? 

All he really knew was that it felt different to have Spade touch his chassis. Just a fraction different. It felt like... something he could do. Maybe he could just. Keep doing it. Until it stopped being anything strange.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/27/2019**

Salvo watched with a somewhat concerned look on his face as Puppet shambled over. He was beginning to feel almost... guilty. 

Vulcan could hear Puppet shuffle over before they landed in their lap, but managed to keep their helm up as much as they wanted to look down at them. Wrapping both smaller arms around what they could hold of Puppet, they held them as close as they could. They were silent for a while, focusing on eliminating the shudder from their vents. As many of their children were gone now, they still had Puppet, maybe now Salvo, as well. They could hope. Slowly they loosened their arms around Puppet, still not quite letting go all the way. They chanced a look down at them and pushed their cheek into the top of the bot's helm, "Thank you, dear." Not to push their luck, they leaned their helm back once again, and this time caught optics with Reaver, giving him a slight smile, "And you, too. My deepest apologies for disrupting your painting."

Vulcan strained and managed to get a look at Aponogee. They gently stroked a thumb up the edges of their face, "I shouldn't have yelled and I'm sorry for that too." Their field was slowly inching outward something calm, rosy, warm, "I want you to know, spacefarer, friend, henceforth you shall always be loved. You will never again know such neglect. There are many on this ship who will ensure your pain will be repaid in full with affection, of which I am but one. You have my word."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/27/2019**

"Dying isn't in my plans anymore, either," Spade said softly, a slight smile making its way onto their face, "It's a deal then. I won't if you won't. We're... we're in this together." They slowly blinked and relaxed back into Arclight's embrace, letting their helm rest against his chassis. Only a little concentration and they could hear the hum of his spark underneath. They watched their servo carefully and gently pet around the biggest of the scars- couldn't be pleasant to have someone touch them directly. For a while they were silent, listening, thinking, trying to savor the moment before everything they had stored in emotional limbo would come crashing down on them once again. 

It was in that silence that a thought clawed its way in and pushed itself out of their vocalizer, "Are you... going to be okay?" They paused for a moment to line up their thought process, "you... I know someone else with these scars- the real thin ones. Found out a couple weeks ago they'd been slowly dying since the... event that caused it. They got fixed but the first time I saw them after they just looked so..." they paused, searching for the right word, "so hollow. Don't get the sense it was a good experience." A few more kliks and they tried to look into Arclight's face, "Did... do you know? I want you to be okay." 

It struck them that was the most sincere thing they'd said in quite a long time.

##  **Betta132** **02/27/2019**

"Probably better this happened now instead of somewhere more public. Longrange, for one, would not have responded well to this. Which is... the same reason why I am not going to call Acus for you, I think. Patches and Scalpel will both scold you quite thoroughly," Reaver commented, letting go of Vulcan's helm. "I'll call Forceps, I think. They'll scold you the least. Mostly due to an inability to repair someone and scold at the same time. And no need for apology- I hardly think you expected to be punched in the face," he chuckled, transferring his servos to Aponogee. "Spacefarer. A nice title."

Aponogee looked quietly baffled, but their field was warm and hopeful, and they leaned into Vulcan's touch gladly. "I liked the yelling," they admitted softly, giving him a tiny smile. "Patches yelled some at first, too. He was really upset about all this. It scared me some then, but, now... I like it. Thank you for being mad for me," they purred, and snuggled their face into Vulcan's servos. "I like it. And I like you. Can I touch you? I'm supposed to ask." 

Puppet snuggled into Vulcan's frame, then reached with one servo towards Aponogee, purring as well as they could. Big glowy mech whose light made them look fuzzy around the edges, at least to Puppet. Warm. Pretty. Good to look at. And sweet! They liked this one. And Vulcan liked the pretty flier, too. Friends?

"Forceps? Ah. I haven't been able to have much of a conversation with them. For obvious reasons," Red muttered, and shifted to rub up Salvo's spine with one servo. A long, slow, gentle massage might be good here. "Do you... want to stay here? We can. I don''t need to finish with this right now. W-we can leave, if you want to leave," they whispered, but made no attempt to get up. They liked this, they liked Reaver and the painting and everything, but maybe Salvo didn't want to be here. And Red didn't particularly want to be around strangers without Salvo, thank you.

.

##  **Betta132** **02/27/2019**

Arclight shuddered at the first few touches, in-venting sharply and hissing between his dentae, and reached for the soft metal he'd set aside earlier. Tense, he bit into the soft rod with all his strength, optics shutting for a moment, and only took the metal out to speak. "Nnh. Fuck. Don't know. It doesn't. Hurts, but. Only the plating. Nothing deeper. Medics didn't look. Worried, just. Stressed. Didn't say anything about. Fuck," he declared, and accidentally bit onto Spade's arm. Not hard, fortunately- the squishiness registered and they transferred their dentae back to unfeeling metal for another few bites. 

"Fuck," they finally declared, and gave Spade another, gentle squeeze. "Hurts some. Keep touching. Feels. Feels good. Fucker doesn't get to- fucker's dead,  _ I _ get to decide who touches me, and I say  _ you _ touch me, Feels  _ good _ ," they groaned, a strange tone running through their field. It wasn't happy, not by any means, but it was-

It was tense and vibrating and  _ triumphant _ , repulsion swamped in something quiveringly aware. Another, softer groan, and Arclight clutched one of Spade's servos to his chassis, right over one of the welds. Fuck. And then, after a moment, down to something older. A scar. One of the radiating energy scars. And it hurt to be touched, but the pain was- it felt like the pain of taking a far-too-rough brush to a thoroughly filthy patch of plating. Scouring. Satisfying. Perfect.

February 28, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **02/28/2019**

"You may of course, Aponogee." Vulcan chimed, simultaneously shifting their servo to pet around Aponogee's ruff and giving Puppet an encouraging pat on the back before inclining their helm to Reaver, a slightly confused look on their face, "I... don't believe I've met Forceps yet. Patches, yes. He... he probably would have some words for me, huh. Well... will. He will." They shook their helm, "But I find myself slightly baffled by the notion this Forceps cannot... repair and scold concurrently. I would not think those two would be mutually exclusive."

Salvo meanwhile, sighed and affectionately bumped his helm into Red's, "That's my line, you know." It was only when he found his visor didn't bump up against the side of Red's helm that he realized it was missing. He brought a servo up to his face, letting it push through the empty space where it normally sat, then continued, letting his finger travel to the awful hole near his optic. He didn't know what he was going to do about that. It was broken, likely outside in the hallway still, and he didn't know how to repair it. Another deep sigh, "I think I'll stay. You've still got some being painted left to do and I... don't exactly want to leave." He paused to pull Red into his lap and hold them closer, "I broke my visor out there. Don't exactly want to walk back without it. Besides-" a slight smile, "I wanna see how Forceps deals with this pile of bots. Red they're all around him it's kind of ridiculous." He shrugged and watched the group on the other side of the room, "Forceps doesn't like me much, think it's cause I yell some. Think I wanna watch em a bit- don't think I trust em all the way with Sticks yet."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **02/28/2019**

Spade flinched and pulled back quick at being bit. They shuddered. The instant they'd registered what Arclight was doing was a moment of horrible panic. But he didn't hurt them, and they didn't blame him- seeing as how hard the mech was biting that rod. They leaned their forehelm against his chassis as tacit forgiveness and resumed watching his servo as it covered their own. They barely registered what he was doing- some kind of re-coding via touch. But how could they help? Their servo didn't feel like it was doing much- felt like it was hurting them actually. The scar underneath felt weird to touch as well. They weren't in the business of touching other people's injuries- weren't in the business of touching other people to begin with. A deep vent and they tried to stay calm. 

Spade in-vented as if to say something but didn't. How do you respond to a field that intense, to an emotion at once agonizing and soothing? They hummed a low, sympathetic note and captured Arclight's thumb with their own. This seemed to be what Arclight wanted, as stressed as it was making him. They shifted a little closer, and put their other servo on top of Arclight's. Trying to project the little bit of calm they had.

##  **Betta132** **02/28/2019**

"Well, yes, that tends to happen when someone keeps all of their medical tools on their tongue, it's rather hard to speak with-" Reaver began, completely straight-faced, but lost it and snorted slightly before continuing. "No. I'm joking. Forceps has selective mutism, and can only reliably speak aloud in medical situations. With non-medical topics, which often includes scolding, they switch to sign to compensate. Not something they can do while running repairs. A bit of a mercy for you and Salvo, I think." 

Aponogee snuggled happily into the touches and brought their servos up to touch, stroking around Vulcan's chassis. Specifically, they were interested in the way his arms integrated onto him. Grasping the top of one secondary arm, they flexed the joint a fraction, inspecting the 'shoulder', and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You have more arms than I've seen on people. Except Gravescratch. But he's already a weird shape. You're less of that. Most of you is shaped like most people," they noted, then cocked their helm, something seemingly occurring to them. "You're... his creator?" 

Red reached up to stroke Salvo's face, petting gently, until they ran across the hole. Frowning slightly, they covered it and leaned into his frame a bit further, pondering possibilities. "We should cover this. Not least to protect everything inside. Or... stop it up. And they  _ sound _ like a pile of bots, it's..." a slight wave "indistinct noises. The sails muffle it all. And... Forceps, I think I like. So far. Physical, for that size." 

Forceps finished the quick COMM exchange, grumbled soundlessly through their field, and sighed, turning to Sticks.  _.:Your idiot leader objected to some part of how he was built, and did so by breaking his builder's optic. No one is seriously injured otherwise. Do you want to learn how to replace an optic lens?:. _

.

##  **Betta132** **02/28/2019**

Arclight's optics brightened abruptly and he curled in closer, trapping Spade's servos against his chassis. It... hurt, still. But it felt  _ good _ . 

Ever so slowly, the distress drained out of his field. The tension leaked out of his frame, and his servos strayed up to Spade's flanks, stroking gently. Very gently. Their bite on the rod eased, their optics flickered and dimmed, and they slumped against Spade as if exhausted. Everything else bled out, and they shut their optics finally as they curled against Spade. "Fuck. Ow," he finished, then smiled, just the slightest bit. "Fuck him. That's. That's worked." 

His voice started out terribly soft, and then got a fraction louder, and the triumph in his field brightened. "I'm. I got it. Got it out. He doesn't get to. I like the petting," they declared, bringing Spade's servos up to their throat, and petted along Spade's flanks. "Warm. You, uh. You okay? Won't. Won't hurt you. Not on purpose. But you're so... fuckin' small. Might by mistake. 'll try not to. Just... maybe I can... got his fuckin  _ ghost _ all over me, want it off. Want you instead. Just. Fuckin'. Rub you all over me instead," he muttered, and- 

Well. More or less did that. He brought himself up to press Spade against his chassis, arms around the smaller frame, and actually didn't find himself shuddering in revulsion. Spade felt. Warm. And too small and soft to be anything like before. "Hi. Fuck. Y' okay?"

March 1, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/01/2019**

Vulcan frowned, optics wide until Reaver explained further then nodded. Still slightly odd to see but not completely out of the question, "I should hope no medic decides to store everything in their  _ tongue. _ I dare say I don't think I'd very much like to be licked on the optic, even if it  _ would _ fix it." They chuckled a bit, shaking their helm, "don't think I'd get much of their scolding anyway, never picked up enough sign." A klik and they looked to Aponogee, helm cocked just a bit, "Who, Gravescratch? No not him. Afraid I haven't made his acquaintance yet. But Salvo... yes," they angled their helm enough to look Aponogee in the optics, expression a serene kind of concerned. They didn't know where the bot was going with this. Would they take it poorly considering their history? Were they going to have to explain their mistakes, which even they still had yet to fully grasp? 

Salvo sat up at hearing his name again but simply frowned. "Gotta stop reacting to whatever that four-armed bastard says," he grumbled, "Don't know what I wanna do with this... the hole. Don't want it to look strange. Don't want something  _ in _ it cause it could get loose and do who knows what to my processor," he shuddered, "S'easier with a visor, I just don't have to think about it."

Sticks pushed back from the portable console in their lap, very gently stretching their arms out in front of them. They wore an unsurprised grimace, "that... sounds like him." They rolled their wrists a few turns before shutting off the device and placing it onto the closest countertop. They paused, optics narrowing, "Wait his  _ builder? _ Hold on. He's an MTO, I didn't think they had..." they trailed off and turned around to squint at Forceps, "the less sense this makes the more I get why he did it." A sigh as if they were about to say something else but they paused again, frowning as they walked back to Forceps's side, "There was a mech in here a couple days ago, asked about Salvo. Heard him talking with Patches from across the room. It was odd, didn't seem like the kinda mech Salvo would hang around with. Wonder if it's him." They were halfway to the door by now, having wandered a bit in their thinking. They shook their helm again and looked back to Forceps, "Where we going?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/01/2019**

Spade's optics were wide, bright with a kind of excited energy, "You-uhh. It's...  _ huh, _ " they smiled a bit, "That's... you're... alright now? It  _ worked? _ " Arclight seemed so much calmer now under their servos and all it took was being a little brave on their part- a little bit of trust. They took the mech's gesture as a sign to stroke their neck. Slow, soft, they could feel the rough remnants of something vile. "I'm okay- I'm surprised. You're not freaking out anymore. How did-." It was almost hopeful. "Are- are  _ you _ okay? You  _ seem _ better. I don't know a damn thing about... health." They traced a finger up his neck around his jaw. If this had worked for Arclight, would it work for them as well? They supposed there was already quite a bit of 'working' going on seeing as they were being held in two arms, completely armorless, after having been internally groped by the very same mech. 

Perhaps it  _ was _ hopeful, wasn't it? For the both of them.

##  **Betta132** **03/01/2019**

"Oh, Gravescratch is..." Reaver paused, and winced, hard, at the thought of how that meeting could go. "Oh. Someone you are going to have to be  _ careful _ with. He was part of a Functionalist project to engineer scent-hounds, and he objected to being treated as an animal. Rather strongly. I believe he ate part of one of his captors. You'll see how when you meet him- he's the one with four arms, seven optics, and what looks like an empuratee helm that opens into an impressive set of teeth. You. May not want to tell him what your job was, I'm not sure how he would respond. And I don't suggest referring to him as if he is any sort of animal, or pet. He will respond badly," he warned, and COMMed Vulcan a few snaps over a short-range open bandwidth. Gravescratch and his teeth, mostly. "He objects rather strenuously to Functionalism in all its forms. I can't say that I blame him. A mech born into slavery has every right to object to the system enabling that slavery." 

Aponogee wasn't entirely sure where they'd been going with that question, either. They sat still and thought for a little while on the concept, then looked up at Vulcan, optics soft but wide as another question registered and held. "You made a person," then, softer, "why didn't you keep him? Did you... want a different one? Was he not built right?" 

Red stroked the space a bit further, then sighed, going over what they could. "It should be possible to... surgically close it. I assume you don't want it. Any sort of medical access should be able to be routed somewhere  _ safer _ for you. Direct processor access... risky. Could get dust in here."

##  **Betta132** **03/01/2019**

_.:Someone built him with a direct processor access port and a weapon-alt frame with no defense against being drained dry by a wielder. I don't blame him for punching the mech responsible. It's Vulcan. And this sort of thing is why we take scans of newcomers when we can, to know what parts to use on them. With the majority of optics, the only thing you need to know for a replacement lens is size, especially if only the outer layer is cracked. He'll have to live with a color mismatch for now. And you get to watch the repair. I assume, and hope, you haven't attempted anything of the sort,:. _ Forceps sighed, beginning to gather the proper supplies.  _.:Reaver's quarters. Best not to transport a cracked optic if you can help it. Too much motion:. _

.

"There's. Fucking.  _ Ghosts _ on me. There were," Arclight muttered, and leaned into the touches further, that rasping purr starting up again. "Just. Feeling of him, still.  _ Touching me _ . All over me. Can't. Can't get it off myself. Just makes it worse. If 's you... ghosts again. But ghosts of  _ you _ . You... I like. Sexy. Just... feels like... touching. Not like" their field flared something wild and panicked for the slightest instant, then faded, and they didn't continue speaking. 

Not for awhile, at least. They spent the time snuggling into Spade's frame, petting idly at whatever his servos came across, and thinking. Why had that worked? Did he know why? It  _ had _ worked, he knew that much. The brushing, ghosting sensations of phantom claws were  _ gone _ . It was just... Spade, for  now. When his awareness flicked to the scars, all he felt was the phantom of Spade's tentative little touches. That was. Exploration. It felt like... exploring. Gentle. 

Hm. Spade was  _ naked _ , and Arclight frowned slightly in consideration as he glanced up at them. "You got. 's there ghosts in your armor? Show me. I'll... try'n get 'm out. Li'l ghosty fucks."

March 2, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

Vulcan in-vented sharply through their teeth, giving Reaver an affirmative nod. Aponogee's question threw them off- gripped itself around their chassis and didn't seem to want to let go. Their optics traveled as their mind tried not to think about the way the light seemed to change in Salvo's optics when they'd watched his coding be overwritten-tried to pull their thoughts away from Atlas lying dead on the ground of their studio. They let out a weak kind of whine. "I... I was commissioned." their voice wavered, "or- rather,  _ requisitioned _ by the Autobots. Build their squad leaders. I-I- thought it was a good idea. I still think it was." they took a shaking breath and glanced over at Salvo, "Of course I wanted to keep him. S-send my s...son off to war? No. I didn't want that. But I knew I could raise them right-raise them kind- so maybe they'd be able to... to keep people safe." He'd raised his voice a bit, enough to catch Salvo's attention again. 

Salvo didn't quite know what was happening except that the mech across from him was staring at him, a desperate look in their optics. They continued, "And for the record, I was right." They ripped their optics from Salvo's and leaned back before another drop of energon leaked from their nose, "I did not build him right, no, I was naive, I know now. But I did not want to abandon him, no. It was... simply my job."

"I'd say he shouldn't be punching people but that's... that's allowed." Sticks said, leaning against the threshold of the entrance as they watched Forceps gather supplies, "Yeah I... haven't tried it. Closest I got was trying to fix Salvo's visor after he got shot in the helm. Glued the pieces together. Worked fine." They frowned, touching a finger to their forehelm, right between their optics in thought, "Primus, I... I can just barely remember... Salvo on a stretcher. Medics let me follow them into one of the intensive care rooms." They pulled their servo away, watching intently as they touched their thumb to each of their fingers in order, their face a clouded kind of solemn, "think I'd like to punch this Vulcan too, quite frankly. Probably not allowed for medics, huh." 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

Spade sighed, gently massaging their fingers into Arclight's throat as they started up their own small hum of a purr, "S'a good way to put it- ghosts. Yeah. I've got some, they're all... in my armor, I think. I've been thinking the only reason why I'm okay with you touching me right now is... there's no more armor for you to sign." they felt a their muscle cables begin to wind up, "Course it doesn't make much sense, you've had your servos literally inside me and... it's... fine for now. I think if I think about it too much it's gonna be bad. I don't want it to be bad. I-I like how it is now..." they trailed off, their purring stopped, "No servos trying to reach under my armor and-" a pause, they blinked slow, "I never knew it was happening. The entire time I was clueless. And-" they in-vented, preparing for a level of vulnerability they'd reserved for very few, "I'm so  _ fucking _ terrified it'll happen again. I won't know it until it's too late. Anyone could do it- take me apart in my sleep and put me back together with some kind of awful-" their fuel tank churned. They fell silent for a few kliks, "What I want to say is- I don't- I  _ can't _ trust anyone sometimes. And I say things-awful things- to try to keep people from doing anything. I don't- I don't mean them, of  _ course _ I don't." 

Spade pressed their face into the top of Arclight's chassis, "I want this to stay this way forever- want to trust you so fully forever- but I don't think that's possible. The ghosts are gone, the awful...  _ fingers, _ are gone. I think... I think I'll probably say some horrible things to you at some point and I'm so, so sorry for that in advance."

##  **Betta132** **03/02/2019**

"Oh, I said something," Aponogee observed, very softly, and shifted to sit in front of the chair. At Vulcan's pedes. Settling their helm into Vulcan's lap like some sort of dog that was too large to stay in their lap. "Sorry. The one who made me was trying to build me for Autobots. I don't think I like them any. I don't know many things, but I'm pretty sure I know that I don't like them," they commented quietly, sliding their arms up to hug Vulcan. This whole arrangement put their helm up against Puppet and their arms partially around the small bot, but that didn't seem to be an issue here. 

Puppet probably would have enjoyed the snugness if they hadn't been too busy trying to comfort Vulcan. Crooning low under their breath, they pushed their face into Vulcan's throat and hugged them tight, and did not let go. It was surprisingly tight, too- for such a clumsy bot, they were strong, especially when they didn't have to put any effort into stability. They didn't know how to make this better, couldn't have spoken if they knew, but they tried. Did their absolute best. This was- more of this, then. Vulcan had spoken once or twice about the ones they'd lost. Poor bot.

_.:You should not punch someone. Not least to protect your servos. Though... if you must kick them, I won't tell anyone,:. _ Forceps commented, going through a selection of packets, each one containing a single optic lens insulated by some padding. Had to find the right size... ah! There it was.  _.:Ship rules call for nonviolent solutions when possible, but... there are allowances for understandable situations. Things like this would count:. _

.

"Probably been told worse. If not. Eh. Fuckit," Arclight muttered, and stroked up Spade's flanks, starting to feel around to their back. "Could. Check you for things. Stay next t' you at night, extra cover. Could..." 

A pause, thinking hard, then he cocked his helm to look up at Spade's face. "New plating? If the old's got ghosts on it. And. If you... you gotta get friends, they keep people from doin' things t' you," he muttered, then turned their helm and, on impulse, kissed Spade's stomach. Then again, and again. Didn't know why. Just... kissing. Soft and gentle. Stroking and squeezing up and down their frame, now with something like a purpose. Specifically, following the latches, the seams, the places where the armor would have been fastened on if it had been there. Stroking the latches, practically fondling them, as gently as possible. "This. How's this? I gotta... find a bot t' ask later, about... how t' get the ghosts off. Why they get off. Works, don't... really need t' know why, but. Why's also good. Hn, fuck, you got fun scars," they muttered, and stroked over a wound they'd found up on his flank. "You got cut at. Fun. I got... clubbed a lot, that doesn't scar much. Got some scars. Burns 'n stuff."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

Vulcan couldn't help leaning forward this time, enveloping Puppet in a four-armed hug. Their face twitched slightly as the broken parts of their optic shifted around again, which they ignored in favor of leaning their helm into Puppet's. They were quiet for a long while, optics half-closed -it hurt too much to try to close them both all the way- concentrating intently on the bot in their arms. Despite everything they'd both made it off Cybertron alive, despite  _ everything _ they were both still here, uninjured (for the most part). If all else failed, if the final ghost spark slipped into death, if they became stranded once again, they would have each other. Another few moments and they slowly pulled away, wiping energon from their face with their nearest servo, then looked Puppet in the optics, "I'll never abandon you,  _ never. _ I'll keep you safe until the day I die, you know this." They turned to Salvo, "and you, too, Salvo, if you'll have me."

Salvo was watching now, he'd never thought of having to  _ abandon _ someone he loved- abandon  _ anyone. _ That was the point. He didn't know whether to be angry at Vulcan for having done that, or sad for-for. He was crying again, not hard, he didn't feel anything much save for the tears dripping down his cheeks. Something inside him seemed to vibrate -small, minuscule, before it exploded into a hazy fragment of a memory. Servos near his face, shaking, another servo on his shoulder, slowly petting him. He felt... at once scared and comforted. It was warm, with the low mumble of a familiar voice coming from all around him. What... what  _ was _ that. He twitched slightly, as if to get up, but stopped himself, Vulcan had already moved on, looking down at Aponogee now.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

"I am responsible for them both, to some degree. Which is not true for you." Vulcan reached down and gently traced a finger across Aponogee's chin, "It would mean much more coming from the people who built you, but I will offer the same to you."  A few moments and their expression clouded a bit, "How apt you were a product of Autobot meddling as well. 'Outreach' they called it. They seemed so much the lesser of two evils at the time but by Primus, not by much."

 

Sticks scoffed, "Pretty sure the rest of the Choir would want a piece of this mech, too, how understandable does that become?" They sighed, "Can't kick for slag, these pedes are built for locomotion and little else. Maybe I'll try to rebuild that itching script..." As soon as Forceps had collected the supplies, they followed them out the door, a grin pulling at their face, "tell me Forceps, how many levels of malpractice is hacking a patient's processor?"

.

Spade's cables tensed a bit under Arclight's lips. Their fingers paused, field pulsing something unnamable but strong. Their vents caught. It wasn't chasing away ghosts per se, no, but the sensation of something gentle, something sweet, caring touches to their cursed,  _ defiled _ frame, seemed to stir something deep in their soul. It'd been so, so incredibly long since they'd treated their frame with anything other than shame or disgust- whether because of Trail's incursions or their broken wings before that, or their lack of proper equipment before that. How many times they'd hated the state of their frame. How many times they'd wished it wasn't theirs. And here Arclight was treating it-treating  _ them _ so tenderly. No part of them deserved this. 

The tears came without warning, accompanied by a prolonged, wavering, wail. Spade curled around Arclight's helm, servos gripping lightly into their audial and neck. Their field dispersed into a tide of  _ relief/affection/gratitude/bafflement. _

##  **Betta132** **03/02/2019**

Puppet made it thoroughly difficult to look into their optics, mostly by keeping their face pressed to Vulcan's throat. They were trembling a bit, swamped in emotion, not sure what was happening here or if it was all okay. No one seemed to be in immediate danger, but-? Was it okay? Were they okay? Was Vulcan-? 

"Oh," Aponogee whispered, and turned their helm slightly, looking up at Reaver for help. They hadn't understood several of those words and some of the phrasing, and hadn't entirely followed a couple of the sentences. It rather showed, too- their optics were confused and even less focused than usual, and their sails were slightly askew. "What, uh..." 

"They're promising to protect you," Reaver explained, very softly, not sure where to put his servos. He had a limited number of ways to pet people. So... hm. A moment of consideration, then he settled one servo against Vulcan's scruff and the other between Aponogee's sails, rubbing gently with both. "Easy. Breathe." 

Red's fingertips found the tears and they gave the softest, most concerned little noise, hugging him tighter. "Salvo?" they whispered, and tucked tighter into his lap, holding him as close as they could. His field was doing... very strange things. "Salvo. 'm here. Okay? 'm here," they whispered. That was all they could do, was be here, be reassuring, and they did it.

_.:No hacking!:. _ Forceps scolded, pausing for an instant to toss a slight glare at Sticks.  _.:We need our patients to come to us willingly for repairs, they won't do that if they think there's a threat of being hacked. Settle for swearing at them, and come with me,:. _ they ordered, gathering everything up and starting out the door.  _.:Understandable as the urge is, chasing recalcitrant patients is... not something I want to deal with. It's bad enough when they keep insisting that everything is fine, and worse when they avoid you out of fear:. _

.

Shit! Arclight gave a muffled sound against Spade's frame, startled, and twitched away a bit. Spade wasn't doing anything they didn't like, though, so they pushed back into the smaller bot with a deliberate ex-vent. Huh. This wasn't... well, he hadn't formed any sort of expectations in the first place, had just been... doing what came to mind, but... this was definitely not one of the things he would have expected to happen. Optics shutting, he thought for a moment more, then pushed firmly into the hold. Mostly so they could kiss Spade's chassis. They didn't know what to do, but the sensation in Spade's field felt almost like the thing that had been running through him, and leaning into that had worked. So, he leaned into this, kissing his way up Spade's chassis and massaging gently at the smaller bot's sides. Maybe if he kept doing this, it would all... settle into making place. Or at least Spade might stop crying. 

And it wasn't exactly... objectionable. Helm right up close to Spade, close enough to hear their sparkbeat, thrumming and fast and alive, something other from Arclight's and staying  _ away _ , warm frame under their servos, this... this sensation of...

They were both alive. They were both... such a mess, but they were  _ alive _ .

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

Vulcan took a few deep breaths and pulled Puppet closer, gently stroking the back of their helm. It took a few more moments for their field to properly settle but they managed eventually to project a weak version of their usual calm. If nothing else for the poor bot shaking in their arms. "Don't worry dear, we're alright. It's alright," They curled around Puppet, as much as they could manage and turned to Aponogee, "I- yes that is the long and short of it." Poor Aponogee too, they didn't intend to confuse the poor bot. They resolved to speak more plainly, "I'd add, the Autobots seem to have... pushed both our paths in the wrong ways, so to speak. I don't quite like them much, either, and that's okay. But, they have pushed us together in a way." 

They looked up to Reaver, giving the mech a small smile, "Suppose you could say that about most things. All in all, I think I'm happy to be here, you all on this ship are much nicer than most company I've had in a long while." They reached up with a small servo to touch Reaver lightly on his jaw, "You especially, I appreciate that."

Salvo meanwhile leaned into Red, trying to catch his breath again. "I don't... I don't know what that was but I  _ remembered _ something. Something about him," He looked to Vulcan with a slight frown, "His voice. His servos- I wasn't wearing my visor. He was- he was crying, I think. And I- I was  _ scared, _ but... not of him." He tried to grasp at the shapes at the already-blurry edges of the memory, put together colors, but everything sunk down into obscurity far too fast. He shook his helm with a sigh, "Fuck this just keeps getting stranger and stranger." He was speaking quietly, calmer, now. He stole a glance back to the other side of the room and just barely contained a quiet snort. Leaning in even closer he practically whispered to Red, "You'll never believe this Red, I think he's flirting with Reaver."

 

_.:Ah true:. _ Sticks switched to comms in the hall, not wanting to be caught saying something they shouldn't.  _.:Never known someone to be afraid of me, guess I don't think too often on those terms... Until they become a problem:. _ They bumped lightly into Forceps. It still bothered them that people were afraid of Forceps. They supposed it was understandable, but still.  _.:I joke but don't tell anyone about what I've shown you. I keep it under wraps for a reason:. _ They were quick to follow Forceps's longer strides, finding with slight comfort it wasn't tiring.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/02/2019**

Spade sobbed quieter now, making soft squeaking noises close to Arclight's audials each time they in-vented. They moved their servos, setting to softly petting them until they could gather enough focus to speak again. They closed their optics. They weren't afraid of what Arclight could do anymore. "I-I don't understand," their voice was soft, grateful, but thoroughly confused, "Why you'd... why you'd do this for me. I don't deserve to feel this way." They felt like they should move away, try to pause Arclight's helm, but they couldn't. It felt like... redemption. Not of them, no, that would take much more convincing. It was as if he were forgiving their frame for being the way it was. "This- you shouldn't. This frame is bad. It's been defiled. It's been  _ ruined. _ There's... there's nothing-" a sob. Tears landed on top of Arclight's helm as they hugged it closer in spite of themself, "There's  _ nothing _ good about it. Why would you- why would you  _ want _ to."

##  **Betta132** **03/02/2019**

Reaver looked vaguely puzzled, but leaned into the touches a fraction, cheeks starting to heat up. Heh. "Well. I suspect some of your reception may be thanks to this... affect of yours. It's rather... distinctive. They, ah" ooh, that felt good, and he cocked his helm to push his face slightly further into Vulcan's servo. Was this turning into petting? He wasn't quite sure, but he wouldn't complain. Things seemed to be settling, at least. 

Puppet beeped a couple of times, soft and worried, and looked back and forth for a little while before they began to relax. Nothing much happened, so they began to relax further, leaning up to look over at Salvo and Red. Something was going on there, too. Was that okay? It definitely wasn't one of the really bad things, wasn't people hurting or fighting or about to fight, but... there were some things going on. Emotions. 

Red thought for a little while longer, petting Salvo's face, and leaned in so no one else could possibly hear. "Does seem like they might... care in some way. Maybe. Didn't want to... hand you off," they suggested, giving a sharp scoffing noise in the back of their throat at the concept, and tucked comfortably into his lap. Warm. "Ever had. Any sort of... helm damage? Memory tweaking? You... aren't that... old, should be able to remember things clearly."

_.:Noted:. _ Forceps hummed, and didn't have anything else to say. Not until they got to Reaver's quarters, and then, well. Their servos were moving quick, too quick to be easily read, but the tone was definitely irritated as they flicked a few signs at Salvo, and then at Vulcan. Huffing, they bustled over and stepped up onto the arm of the chair so they could tilt Vulcan's helm back and watch that optic. A dismissive glossa-clicking noise, and they gently but firmly pried the lids open fully, scanning his helm with the other servo.  _.:Hm. Definitely needs a lens replacement. Let them know:. _

.

Arclight was silent for a moment, then made an odd noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, glancing up at Spade's face again. "What, that- that's  _ it _ ? All's it takes t' ruin someone is- is someone bein' a creep at 'em, puttin' servos where they don't go? If- if that's- that'd mean... so, so many people, d'you know- know how many people- d'you know the  _ butchers _ who- who take faces off like t' sign somethin'? Like they did art. If- if they ruined  _ you _ , what's- what'm I? I got- fuckin-"

Another odd noise, and they pushed their face into Spade's frame, shuddering momentarily. "-got his- got them lightning-scars  _ in _ my chamber, I got- mech put his servos  _ everywhere _ on me, fucker- fucker painted me like his  _ furniture _ , wanted, fuckin- tried t' make me a  _ pet _ , I- I woulda  _ died _ a few times over if I could, I- fuck, people- people don't just-  _ not _ have all  _ this _ , I know bots who got less an' it stayed all their life, I am never- this ain't goin' away! You think yer bad- what th' fuck am I? Slag that. You got-" a pause, one servo sliding up to pet Spade's shoulder, kissing rather awkwardly against his side. "-you got arms, you got... all the parts, mostly, gotta... need armor on top, but that's- you got all the parts. Spark prob'ly works better'n mine. You got all the parts. All the parts work. Ain't ruined. Fuckin'. Cute. Tiny slagger, but. You got the clever servos. Gotta. Gotta get some better sensors in th'... hips section, yers got fucked an' not the fun kind, but- yeah. You got. You'll work. This's okay," he declared, and kissed Spade's throat, giving another little noise. Much closer to a laugh, now. "Squeaky."

March 3, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/03/2019**

"I... think... yeah," Salvo said, still somewhat lost in thought, "I did- got shot in the helm once." He sat up slightly as Forceps entered, then leaned forward when Sticks followed. His frown quickly turned into a sunny smile as they spotted him, giving him a cheery wave before turning away to navigate the pile of bots. A very quick sigh and he held Red closer to scootch back until he hit something to lean on. "Well, Sticks is here too, so much for trying to watch Forceps on their own," he said, only loud enough for Red to hear.

Sticks glanced back again at Salvo, straightening their posture. It'd be a good time to look professional in front of him- show off what they'd learned. They tried to spy Vulcan amidst the pile of frames and... great deal of solar sail. They could hear them trying to make conversation.

"Ah hello, you must be Forceps, yes?" Vulcan said, trying to give the medic somewhat of a friendly smile with their servo so firmly pinning their optic open, "My, it seems medics come in all sizes." They very carefully petted Puppet. Poor bot didn't seem to like medical attention much on themself, "Puppet dear, the mech may do some strange looking things to me but it'll be fine. Most importantly they're not going to touch you." It was as much of a warning to the two as they could muster.

"Strange things like replace your optic lens," Sticks said from the ground. A couple kliks of a well-planned route and they climbed up onto the back of the chair, sitting now high enough up to watch what Forceps was doing, "Fortunately we've brought a replacement."

"An even  _ smaller _ medic-" Vulcan said, a gentle kind of amused, "I was told only Forceps was called- unless that's you?"

Sticks frowned, "No, I'm just here to watch. I'm Sticks." They looked almost conflicted. They didn't like Vulcan in the slightest, but something about being called a medic without hesitation was deeply gratifying. They forwent the theatrics of a proper introduction for something of a cold shoulder. Instead they looked to Reaver, giving him a happy wave before turning back to watch what Forceps was doing.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/03/2019**

"I-," Spade wheezed, "I didn't mean it that way. You-your frame is yours- s'nothing wrong with it being that way except for the fact that all that slag happened to make it that way." They leaned their forehelm on top of Arclight's, optics still closed, "It's still good cause it's yours, and  _ you're good. _ " Their vents were still shaking slightly as they mumbled, "Keep thinking whenever I close my optics there's gonna be something else there- a warhead, a-a boil filled with acid, another  _ fucking _ signature. But it-it's just you, now. An-and there's nothing wrong." They opened their optics again, staring right into Arclight's, "And it keeps on being just you. You and your... kisses when it should be knives- flames- pain." A shuddering in-vent, "Like there's nothing to be afraid of. And goddamnit it feels good." 

They grasped the sides of Arclight's helm and shifted to plant a weak kiss on their forehelm. They hesitated for a second, hoping to Primus this wasn't out of line, then gently nudged Arclight's chin up with a servo to press their lips to his.  _.:Probably not as good as the twins but hopefully it's a good start:. _

##  **Betta132** **03/03/2019**

"You got  _ what _ ," Red squeaked, and entirely ignored literally everything else in favor of running their servos up Salvo's frame and around his helm. How had they missed that?! Where- how- people didn't usually get shot in the helm and  _ live _ , what- was he- well, he seemed okay, he was clearly functional, but- memory might be spotty, there- there might be scarring, damage, might- should definitely be helm scarring, where was it? Had to find it to figure out angles, what might have been damaged, what- what they'd need to watch out for.

Puppet gave a long, low, uneasy noise, scrunching down into Vulcan's lap to stare up at Forceps, and growled at the whole thing. They stayed still and cooperated, though, which mostly involved not being in the way and not moving. Optics dimming slightly, they looked to Reaver for support, comforted by his quiet presence and explanations of things. They liked Reaver. They really liked Reaver. He reminded them just a little bit of Vulcan, and he was calm and nice and warm.

"Sticks is Forceps' apprentice," Reaver provided, and offered Puppet a servo, humming soothingly when they leaned into him. "Mm. We're all right. Now, Puppet... this  _ is _ going to look odd. It's all right, though. They are medics. They are not going to hurt Vulcan, or anyone, or force anyone to do anything. I can't promise everything will be  _ pleasant _ , but we need to do this now, all right? If Vulcan's optic doesn't get fixed, it will get worse. So it needs to be fixed, but we are all perfectly safe here. All right? Everything is fine."

Forceps stepped onto the arm of the chair instead of Vulcan's leg, considered the situation for a moment, and stepped down onto the floor. One of the things they'd brought was a flat stack of plastic, which they folded out into a large, open-lidded box. With what looked like a helm rest in the center, and two openings in one side just large enough for one's arms. Sitting back, they turned to sign to Sticks, optics up on Vulcan as they gestured to the box.  _.:Containment. Helm in the box, box shuts, keeps contaminants out. Minimizes the amount of foreign material that the frame has to deal with:. _

.

"If  _ my _ frame's not ruined, yours's- oh," Arclight muttered, going silent as Spade kissed their forehelm, and leaned gladly into the kiss. Oh. Yes. Thank you Primus, Arclight decided, going with the kiss that was absolutely not out of line. That was. There'd been fragging and several kinds of kink, and there'd been other kissing, so this was... reasonable. And good. He opted not to push too far, though- too much of a size difference, he'd have to figure out how to tackle being the larger party. Later. For now, he ended that kiss so he could speak again, propping himself up long enough to stare down at Sticks. "Really. I am. I am fucked up. So much. And  _ you _ probably have cum in your... most places," he commented, squinting a bit to get his optics to focus. "That's. Fuck. Tha's not... unhealthy, right? Because. I do not want to explain that to  _ medics _ . And" a pause, squinting again, "valves don't- they're  _ closed _ at the end. There's a tank. Yours is. Probably stuffed as fuck. You... okay? Doesn't hurt?" he asked, helm cocking slightly to look down near Spade's valve. Wasn't at the right angle to look directly at it. "Not sure how much that's supposed to stretch."

March 4, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/04/2019**

"It's alright Red," Salvo said, voice even if tinged with a bit of amusement, "It's- I showed you before." He caught the back of their servo and gently guided it up to the side of his helm, a bit higher than optic-level, and there it was. A finger-wide area of strangely warm material tapered back towards the backside of his helm. "No scar, just filled in with bug paste. Was lucky enough my visor deflected the bullet so I only ended up with this. You think that could be why I don't remember it so well?"

Sticks leaned over Vulcan to get a look at what Forceps had  _.:Huh, that's smart. Significantly weirder than what I was expecting, though. Should I encourage them to move to the berth? Probably a simpler setup than the chair:. _

Vulcan meanwhile kept their helm mostly still, absentmindedly petting Puppet. They weren't exactly afraid of medics. It  _ had _ been a while since they'd received any proper medical attention, but the amount of modifications they'd gotten had engendered a great deal of trips. With nothing better to do, they watched the small one lean over them. For a medic, the bot really didn't look the part. Up close they could see a newness to their paint, uneven layers and some rather odd scarring that seemed to refuse proper color. They reached a servo up but stopped themself from touching. "What happened to you, dear?" Vulcan said as Sticks sat back to look at them again. Their voice was soft, concerned.

There was an instant where Sticks seemed to bristle before they covered up the discomfort with an achingly fake saccharine grin, " _ None _ of your business." Perhaps had Vulcan not been the cause of Salvo's troubles, they'd have given him a nicer nudge away from their frame, but they couldn't quite summon the civility. Nor did they quite want to antagonize or threaten the stranger. They cocked their helm a little, grin widening, "And before you ask, my servos are not a conversation topic either. You will touch neither me nor Forceps without explicit permission, if I may make that crystal clear."

Vulcan frowned, looking somewhat guilty and returned their servo to Aponogee's helm. They couldn't quite understand what set the bot off but were absolutely  _ not _ about to pry. "My apologies," Vulcan mumbled. They sounded sincere.

Sticks signed an irritated  _ nosy bastard _ to Forceps before replying with a curt, "accepted."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/04/2019**

"I believe you, mech," Spade said, voice finally steady again. They looked down at their valve, "It's... it's a little uncomfortable to be perfectly honest." They propped up a leg to reach down and rub a finger around the entrance. Massaging it a bit produced a slow stream of transfluid and lube. They tensed a bit as their finger continued to circle around, finding it was more sore than they'd like. "Mean I've taken a dildo about your size before but it's been a while. Maybe a couple fingers next time, yeah?" A pause, "Although... it feels like everything's a little out of order- it's kinda hot." They sighed then curled up closer into him. There was something invigorating about the act of closing their optics, it felt powerful, defying their instinct that told them other people were dangerous. They leaned in to plant a kiss on Arclight's nearest plate, "Dunno if cum's good for the frame or not. If it comes down to explaining it to someone, it wasn't  _ your _ spike." They shifted a bit, freeing up a servo but simply resting it on their own frame, "Speaking of, how's your junk doing? I could probably eat you out if you wanted to. Can't promise it'll be good, but the offer's on the table."

##  **Betta132** **03/04/2019**

" _ Bug paste _ ," Red muttered, and lingered, rubbing slowly over the area. Right. All the talk of how it was working out. "Might. Might be able to encourage nanite growth, get them to... replace this with metal. Better for you than cutting your helm apart, or leaving you with this," they sighed, and tilted their helm to listen, winglets flicking slightly at the sound of Sticks' voice. "They've pissed Sticks off." 

_.:kick them if they touch you:. _ Forceps ordered quickly, studying the situation for a moment, then shrugged and stayed on the floor. Another, more insistent point at the box, staring up at Vulcan, then they lifted their servos and at least tried signing. Slowly.  _.:You. On the floor. Helm in the box. Hold still. Touch my apprentice and I will leave you to suffer:. _

Reaver squinted a bit at the signing, watching, and got... a little bit of it. "Okay. I understand some of that. It's kinda like the sign my Order used. What, uh... was that something about suffering? Because I think that's the opposite of what we're hoping to do here," he commented, petting whatever of Aponogee fell into his lap as everyone shifted around. "But I think the rest of that was about- I mean, the pointing is fairly definitive," the knight noted, caressing around Aponogee's sail bases. "Puppet, you'll need to avoid jostling Vulcan any." 

Puppet chirped in acknowledgement, but followed Vulcan onto the floor, and immediately sat on top of them. This was the best way they could think of to help with anything- sit on Vulcan, servos braced on their chassis, staring intently at what Forceps was doing. They would have gotten wobbly, except that they had the braces! When their arms wanted to get wobbly, all they had to do was shift, putting their weight into the braces instead, and it held them up. Perfect! They'd always gotten tired fast, but now they could use the braces, and then it was less of an issue.

.

Arclight grumbled quietly, eyeing Spade' general valve area for any sort of misbehavior, and sat back to get a better look. "Well. Not  _ bleeding _ . Probably fine," he decided, then, softer, "lemme know if it hurts worse". That moment of attempting-to-be-nice was followed by something else, though, and they gave a wry little noise of amusement. "Not that I'd. Know what to do. Just got here. Not a medic. Got... nothin' useful. Could kiss it better," they muttered, then revved their engine gently at the suggestion. "Mm. Yeah. But... don't wanna squish you. How about," he began, squeezing the blankets with one servo as he shifted onto his side, "you just... get up 'tween my legs 'n try? Make myself all pretty." 

He didn't want to be in any position to put his weight on top of Spade, so he shifted onto his back instead, parting his knees to expose his equipment slightly. Then, hm. He could do better. 

Kicking the blankets away, he spread his legs further, hooked a servo under one thigh, and slid his other servo down to part his valve lips, showing himself off. Shamelessly. He made a  _ lewd _ picture like that, spread open so wide, the lights in his valve flickering enticingly, inner walls rippling against nothing in anticipation. "Mm. You" a slight twitch of one pede "like?"

##  **Malusdraco** **03/04/2019**

Salvo leaned forward a bit, having not really paid attention to what was going on on the other side of the room. He didn't catch quite what they'd said but saw Sticks's posture. It  _ looked _ like they weren't backing down. He smiled and sat back, "You tell em Sticks," he mumbled under his breath, his voice ringing a proud note, "But, right" Salvo said, a bit louder, "I don't even know how you'd do that. Sticks knows more about the bug paste than I do. Should ask them."

Vulcan sat up straight and nodded in Forceps's direction, "I'm afraid I don't quite know what you're saying- hope-hopefully someday." Between Forceps's glare and Sticks's coldness they were starting to feel a bit uneasy. They couldn't quite tell what they'd done to make them both so angry. They slowly edged off the chair, and eased themself down onto the floor, carefully positioning themself so their helm would rest in the box. It wasn't exactly comfortable but they weren't about to complain with those looks. As Puppet sat down on him, he gave them a quick reassuring ping. By the way Sticks's face lit up when Puppet came closer they figured the ire was for them alone.

Sticks, having moved things out of the way so Vulcan didn't tip anything over accidentally, greeted the newcomer with a bright smile, "A pleasure to finally meet you Puppet," they chimed, "We'll probably be seeing more of each other as time goes on." They paused for a klik to fumble around in subspace for a bit, returning with a servoful of small, wrapped candies. "Patches made these for me, they're fun. Lotta textures, gummy, with a gooey inside. Can't promise they taste like much, though, can't actually taste them. If you want one just let me know," Sticks leaned to the side to catch Aponogee's attention, "You're a ways away Aponogee but you can ask for one too if you'd like." Another warm smile and they turned to watch Forceps.  _.:Before you ask I'm multitasking. Don't think you can't be simultaneously kind and petty:. _ A pause and they followed up  _.:You can try one too if you want, I've got enough to spare:. _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/04/2019**

Spade sat back, admiring Arclight. The mech really had an air about him, something rough but warm, and a frame that, despite its wear, had a definite appeal. The dim light of the lantern wavered and slid off the curves of the mech's armor in a way that made Spade realize just how much they'd missed at first glance. Their optics, wide and bright as searchlights, danced across every surface of the other's frame, trying to take in as much as they could. They brought a servo up to trace a contemplative line across their chin. They nodded slow, bobbing their helm as their optics traveled up to meet Arclight's, "Don't think I got a proper look at you before but  _ Primus _ mech you look  _ good. _ Your frame I mean. Without all the- all the slag goin on. I mean, with it too -doesn't stop you from being hot." They made to move forward, then paused, "You- you mind if I-" they shook their helm and restarted, " _ May _ I take some snaps? It's okay if you don't want me to. I think I just wanna- wanna draw you later. Never drawn a pinup before. Still wanna eat you out before I try it though."

March 5, 2019

##  **Betta132** **03/05/2019**

"Sticks is very nice, but was operating off of... trial and error and desperation," Red muttered softly, sounding just a bit fond, and cocked their helm to listen more closely. "What are they doing now? Hard to listen in on a bot who doesn't talk." 

Forceps eyed their patient for a moment, then sighed, lightly patting the side of their helm that looked least punched.  _.:Best not have someone too tense for this sort of thing. Tell them to hold still, and that this is all fine. Strongly recommend telling them to offline their optics:. _ they requested of Sticks, and shut the lid of the transparent box. They could still see what they were doing just fine, which was good, because it was mostly setup at this stage. Set the packet with the new lens inside the box as well, then take a rather ominous-looking little thing out of their kit and use it to hold open Vulcan's optic lids. Best to have one's optics offline for this sort of thing, it got unnerving otherwise. Such a surface-only part was easy to numb, at least, and Forceps set to shaking up a little bottle of numbing agent as they waited to be sure Vulcan wasn't about to panic. Panicking was bad in this context, and in several others.

Puppet stared rather nervously at the little tool, then at Forceps, then the noises of the wrappers got their attention. Optics widening a little, they eyed the candies with considerably less worry than a moment before, recognizing the general idea. Patches made candy. Lots of candy. It was good. They wanted that candy, also, please, so they lifted one servo and moved rather carefully. A shifting motion to stabilize, and a slow reach, shaking slightly, until they managed to snag a candy. Which only caused further difficulty, as they tried to figure out how to open it with only one servo. When a moment or two of fiddling failed, they shrugged and popped the whole thing into their mouth, foil wrapper and all, and chewed with a look that suggested they found themself rather clever.

"Well, that does work, doesn't it," Reaver muttered, then looked down at Aponogee. "You probably should not eat those with a wrapper on them. Have you learned how to chew things yet, or are you still on drinking?" he asked, softly, and leaned over to grab another couple of the gummies. "Would you like to try one regardless?" 

Aponogee looked a little puzzled at first, but took the unwrapped gummy they were offered, squishing it gently between their fingertips. Humming, they nibbled very lightly at it for a moment, then bit it neatly in half. Fun. They'd... mostly gotten this whole 'eating' thing figured out.

.

Something in Arclight wanted to hide from the scrutiny, so he challenged that in the most direct manner possible. Namely, by fluffing his armor to show himself off further, back arching a fraction, and offered Spade the most coy look they could manage. It was a bit awkward, but it was rather nice to look at regardless. The idea of snaps, hm... he wasn't completely sure, but, fuck it, he'd embrace this whole thing. "I am here to be a show. May as well take it. Would rather you not show anyone, but. Why not," they decided, and relaxed down against the mattress again, rubbing slowly over their own valve. Mm. This was... heh. Probably the first time he'd been looked over like this in a very long time, and he loved it. Mmnn. He liked this, liked the attention, and... well. He was going to have someone at least attempt to lick him out. "So. Take me," he purred, low and deep and as smoothly as he could, then paused and glanced away. "But with no dentae. Please. Snaps, then fucking. Or something like fucking."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/05/2019**

Sticks gave Puppet and Aponogee a smile before turning to look down at Vulcan. They seemed conflicted, again. It wasn't hard to pick up his uneasiness. The mech looked almost sad- optic broken, helm in a box, expression still guilty. Sticks shook their helm- Primus forbid they felt bad for snapping at them. They sighed, "'What happened' is a real loaded question, alright? It's gonna be a sensitive topic- whatever it is- for a lotta people- for  _ most _ people. But... you're new here and I'm not about to hold it against you," They put a steadying servo on his shoulder and changed their voice to the calming tone they'd been practicing, "You think you can relax? You're gonna need to be still for this. And it'll make it much easier for you, I think, if you offline your optics."

Vulcan was still for a moment, optics darting from Sticks's face to their servo. A deep breath and they leaned back, their optics flickering off. 

"Everything's going to be fine, Vulcan," Sticks said, leaning some weight against their shoulder, "Does this make you uncomfortable?"

Vulcan's neck tensed for a klik but they remembered to keep still and mumbled a quick "no."

"I'll be right here the whole time Forceps is working. It shouldn't hurt at all so tell me if you feel any pain and we can stop."

"Alright"

_.:I'm inclined to keep them talking. Try to distract them from what's happening to their optic. Would that be a problem, do you think?:. _

"Scars don't have to be permanent," Vulcan said, catching Sticks's attention, "If you... I can... I make frames- make armor. Should you want to replace your scarred plating I'll do it. You don't have to" They touched a finger to their own lower chassis, "Don't have to live like that."

Sticks sat back a bit and sighed.

"I have the skills." Vulcan continued, "Just haven't had a whole lot of worthy recipients in... well, in a long time. Most of my clientele simply had the money to buy a new frame if theirs wasn't to their liking." They paused for a beat then added, "I want to be helpful, if I can."

Sticks shifted a bit on Vulcan's shoulder, "I'll think about it."

The room was silent enough so Salvo's quiet mumbles turned louder than he intended as he explained what he saw to Red, "So Forceps has this box out, Vulcan just put his head in and now Sticks is leaning on him. Looks real strange if you ask me."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/05/2019**

Spade half-grinned a bit and lined up a snap. It was good but it didn't quite capture  _ all _ of Arclight, so they slowly leaned forward and pushed themself up to standing- or, leaning. Their abdomen already felt like it'd been rammed with a massive spike, not particularly fun to move. Despite this they managed to stagger backward a bit, enough to get more of Arclight in the shot, holding out their thumb and forefinger for both servos to properly frame him. They shifted left a bit, pushing their viewfinder outward before taking another snap. Yes, perfect. 

They leaned back onto their heels, once again sizing Arclight up as they dropped their servos to their sides and nodded, "I'll... I'll go slow this time okay?" They managed a few steps forward before stumbling back to their knees on the berth. They wanted to touch this time. Not in a way that Arclight wouldn't like, of course, but at least they had a good idea of where to avoid. They crawled up next to one of his thighs and delicately traced a finger up its inner seam until they reached his hip. "Think I wanna take a page from your book." They murmured, pressing their lips just to the side of Arclight's panel, "Felt real good for me." Another kiss, this time closer, "Don't have too much tongue so I might need to use some fingers." They sat up a bit to kiss the tip of his spike, "for good luck. Tell me if you want me to put my servos anywhere weird." 

Spade half-lidded their optics as they pressed their face into Arclight's valve, letting their tongue slowly tease around one side of their node, optics flicking up to see Arclight's reaction.

##  **Betta132** **03/05/2019**

_.:Good idea. Keep them talking. And if I didn't think any of the medics on a ship had the ability to make new armor, I absolutely would not be letting any of them do anything to my optics,:. _ Forceps snarked, holding Vulcan's optic open with the pry-bits to empty a dose of numbing drops into that optic. That would handle the surface sensors. There wasn't anything to be done about the deep sensors that might signal pressure, but at least it wouldn't hurt. Forceps was annoyed, not  _ cruel _ . A quick glance to Sticks, and they offered a quiet, approving nudge of their field, plus a tiny smile.  _.:Excellent code-switching:. _

Puppet's optics widened a bit and they hunched down against Vulcan's frame, servos tightening on their plating, gaze locked on the tweezers now in Forceps' servo. That was- it- it made sense. If something was broken, someone had to fix it. Or put a new one in. That was a new lens in the box, wasn't it? So they were going to put a new lens in, and they had to take the old one out first, and that was probably not a thing to do with fingers, so it made sense, but they still  _ didn't like this _ \- and they jolted hard in surprise as Reaver's servo landed on them again. 

"It's all right, Puppet. It's okay. That's just a pair of tweezers, the sinister uses are somewhat limited," Reaver purred, stroking gently down Puppet's spine. "I've assisted in medbays before. Optic repairs are strange-looking, but that's all right. I can promise you- these are good people, they are not going to hurt anyone. I promise it's all right," he crooned, and kept petting Puppet, humming softly until they started to relax. "There. We're all right." 

Puppet chirped dubiously, but relaxed against Reaver's servos, still watching everything. Forceps didn't look... terribly sinister. Mostly small and skinny.

Forceps waited until tapping on the optic lens itself produced no response, adjusting the device keeping the lids open, then spread the lids that slightest bit further and moved in with the tweezers. The final layer of the optic, at least the portions covered by the socket and lid, was wrapped in a soft silicone material. To get a lens out, all one had to do was ease the edges of the silicone back from where they trapped the lens, which required some delicate work but was otherwise simple enough. Slow, gentle motions did the trick. And Forceps relayed as much to Sticks via COMMs, albeit in much shorter sentences and sentence fragments. It did... look a bit like peeling the optic, though. Most things related to the optic were strange to look at up close.

"Containment," Red contributed, very softly, too quiet to be heard by most of the others in the room. "The immune system can handle foreign materials well enough, even in the optics. It can cause issues, though, so as little contamination as possible is ideal. Containing the work space helps keep dust out. You... may not want to look too closely, optic repairs can be unnerving to watch. It's an area that inspires even more concern than other places do when injured." 

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **03/05/2019**

Arclight posed nicely for the snaps, or as nicely as he could, and happily rocked up into the first contact. "Mm. Y' can put 'em  _ everywhere _ weird," he declared, which may or may not have actually been sexy like he was trying for, and spread his legs around Spade's frame. "Mm. Youuu fuck whatever you want. Except. Probably not organs. Ohh fuck." 

This was a fairly open-ended situation (and there were so many jokes in there), but it was fine. Spade wasn't in easy reach of anywhere Arclight might object to being touched, and the rest of them was up for groping. Especially if Spade was going to keep doing  _ that _ \- Arclight's node throbbed as the sensors jolted to life all at once, and he moaned, soft and gentle, servos grasping at the blankets. Ohh. Oh yeah. Not that he didn't enjoy being fucked nice and hard by someone, but he didn't tend to get  _ gentle _ out of a construction-lot mech who just wanted a good dicking. "Fuck! Been missing out on... fuckin' li'l bots an' the nice gentle stuff, Primus, thaaat's good," he crooned, lifting one servo slightly, then locked it back onto the blankets. "Nnh, wanna... wanna grab y' helm, hold some while you do  _ that _ , got that... clever li'l tongue. Tha's good. Ain't... goin' anywhere in a hurry," the welder muttered, one leg twitching slightly, "but  _ fuck _ it's nice. I gotta. Gotta spread y' open later 'n... I gotta find some toys 'n show you- them sensors'll go for  _ somethin' _ , I am- gonna find it. Just. Keep doin' that. You, uh. You like if I call y'- good mech, Primus, y' like-  _ good _ Spade-"

March 6, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/06/2019**

The happy flicker in Sticks's field didn't escape Vulcan, but they knew better than to say anything and instead focused on Puppet. Tentatively they found the bot's servos with their own and gently followed their arms up to their shoulders until they could gently but awkwardly pat the side of their face. "Oh-dear Puppet it's alright. The tweezers are for me and they're not hurting at that," Their voice softened, "You've certainly got the bad view of this. It's alright." Their servo fumbled up to the top of Puppet's helm where they set to gently petting them. "They have a severe phobia of tongs that might be contributing- grabbing tools. I- don't know if I'd mentioned it before uh.-" Again their neck cables tensed as if they were about to move their head but they managed to keep themself steady, "S- Sticks? Could you-"

"Add that to their patient file? Yes." Sticks said. They couldn't put their finger on why being asked to do something in this context bothered them, but figured it would be better for Puppet if they just accepted it. It was a quick operation to remotely access the patient files and add in a single line. They'd check it over for redundancies later. "Done. I'll let Crucible know to add it to the list."

"List?" Vulcan said, he frowned a bit.

Sticks narrowed their optics a bit, "Yes, list. The shipwide list of triggers and other rules. It's posted everywhere." Sticks's field flickered something annoyed but they quickly pushed it down, "It's important to be familiar with it."

"But that's-" Vulcan started, this time moving their helm a little, "Keeping all your hurts in one place-what's to stop someone from taking advantage of that? I'm not going to let you  _ broadcast- _ "

##  **Malusdraco** **03/06/2019**

Sticks's grip tightened on Vulcan's shoulder, "You need to calm down Vulcan, may I remind you that Forceps is currently working  _ in your optic. _ " They pulsed something calm through their field and the mech let out an ex-vent. Sticks continued, "I'll ask you this, would you rather someone  _ accidentally _ hurt them because you kept their phobia a secret? This ship is filled with people who want nothing more than to live in peace. I assure you nobody wants to hurt anyone by accident." They looked to Puppet, expression softening, " _ nobody _ wants that." A pause and they turned back to Vulcan, "If anyone were to take advantage of this, they'd be taken off the ship. Or worse, I guess, depending on who catches them."

Vulcan simply lay there for a while, quiet.

_.:I'm getting the feeling they're somewhat of an idiot. But they seem well-meaning. Reminds me of someone I know, actually:. _ Sticks looked over at Salvo, whose attention was mostly focused on Red,  _.:I don't know how exactly but father and son have found the exact same niche:. _

Sticks sighed, deciding on a kinder approach, "Regardless of where you came from, you are safe here, and so is Puppet. It takes a while to sink in, I know. Give yourself some time, it'll get more intuitive." They returned to watching Forceps work, determined not to get too caught up in the rest of the room.

Vulcan meanwhile seemed to relax quite a bit. That was the closest they'd get to forgiveness, they figured.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/06/2019**

Spade smiled, field unwrapping something warm, proud as their optics glowed brighter. For a few kliks they focused intently on Arclight's face as they slowly swirled their tongue around his node. Their fingers began to explore the plating around their hips.  _.:Think I've got a new idea. Minimalism. Efficiency:. _ Another languid circle around his node  _.:I'm gonna take it slow:. _ They leaned in even further, pressing their face into the base of his spike as they retreated their tongue for a kiss in the space between. Their servos traveled backward, tracing around the seams they could find.  _.:You can touch if you want. Just- gentle. Please:. _ Their tongue flicked to the top of his valve entrance, pausing there. They could feel the slightest hint of charge biting at their tongue. A happy sigh and they ventured inward in a slow, calculated movement, relishing the slickness of the lube  _.:You talk a lot when you're horny. It's cute:. _ Something affectionate trickled into their field, almost without them noticing,  _.:Call me whatever you want:. _

##  **Betta132** **03/06/2019**

Forceps clicked a sharp warning sound with their tongue and gripped his forehelm with one servo, trapping him as still as they could, because- hey! What the frag! Don't move while people were poking about in your optic! Especially given that Forceps had just captured a shard of broken optic lens to pull it free. Grumbling with their body language more than anything, they pulled that shard out and set it aside, and waited to see if Vulcan intended to do anything else stupid. Once they were moderately sure, they set about getting the next shard of lens, and the next, gradually exposing the mechanisms underneath more clearly. The outer lens primarily angled the light at a good angle for the rest of the optic and protected the inner mechanisms, so it was the easiest thing to deal with replacing. Simple. Easy. When your patient didn't fucking  _ move _ or complain about other people's trigger warnings. A quick purr of approval through their field at Sticks for handling that, then they plucked another shard free and paused, showing it to Sticks. Nasty.  _.:This is why I prefer not to move my patients. See how sharp this is? If you rattle something loose, it can dig into the mechanisms below and cause severe damage. If you handle a lens like this carefully enough, removal and replacement are simple. But... it requires a careful optic to be sure you don't leave any shards. So, lean over here and have a look:. _

Reaver kept his servo on Reaver's back, stroking gently, purring, but his voice went rather stern. "There are a number of people here with rather unusual triggers, and many others with fairly typical things. For your safety as well as the others, it's best to know what not to do. An example of that- Blackspark will very likely hurt you out of reflex if you bring a knife into the general vicinity of his stomach. And, no. No one here is going to take advantage of those warnings. We do occasionally take on passengers, but no one is allowed to do anything like that. We will throw them out of the ship in the next place where it won't kill them. A few months ago, I had to stop Scalpel from physically throwing someone out of the airlock into an asteroid field. I would have let her if he hadn't been a grounder," he commented, voice low and a bit unhappy, servo still moving evenly up and down Puppet's back. "Crucible keeps the list to protect everyone here. If anyone tries to take advantage of that, they are removed as quickly as possible, and generally shut in a spare room in the meantime. No one is allowed to hurt anyone else here. I, personally, see to that, Crucible sees to that, everyone who can sees to that. Malice is not tolerated, not here, not in the few places on Cybertron starting to rebuild. There's been enough of that already," he sighed, and deliberately softened his voice up as he spoke to Puppet. "If you  _ ever _ have someone do something that you think is meant to upset you, let someone know. We will keep you safe, all right, Puppet?"

Puppet beeped very, very softly and leaned into every bit of contact at once, an odd motion that involved a rather catlike stretch, and started to relax a fraction. That was. Small. Reaver was right, there was a limit to what someone could do with those. Puppet could probably bite harder than those could grab. 

Hm. Forceps eyed Puppet for a moment, then pulled another pair of tweezers from subspace- a slightly bent but working pair, kept as one of several backups. Whistling slightly between their dentae, they held the tweezers out to Puppet, handle-first, offering them something to look at. Might make it less scary to play with those. 

Puppet took the tweezers rather cautiously, fumbling for a few moments, and managed to grip them more or less right by echoing what Forceps was doing. They were right- they could bite harder than these. These were just. Poky little things. This was fine. It didn't look fine, but no one was hurting. It was fine. It was. Just fine. 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/06/2019**

"Ahh, little fucking tease," Arclight grumbled, but it really wasn't a complaint so much as a  _ moan _ , and their thighs pressed gently on the sides of Spade's helm as they slid a servo down. They didn't want to  _ grab _ , they'd had people grab their helm and that wasn't the best thing, but he did want to grasp gently at the back of Spade's helm and just... pet. Stroke their audials, tug the slightest bit to encourage them in. 

This was much more leisurely attention than Arclight's valve was used to, so the response was slower, but no less good. A steady surge of lubricant, the bio-lights steadily pulsing brighter, and they groaned long and slow as their hips rocked up against Spade's face. "Mm, fuck, tha's how y' do that,  _ fuck _ , theeere ya go- clever, good bot, fuckin' good. Good, Spade, that's... yyyeah, fuck. Do that agai- ah,  _ fuck _ , yeah," he purred, and hooked a leg over Spade's frame, squeezing firmly. This was what had been the hottest fucking thing while they were doing this to Spade, so- same idea?

##  **Malusdraco** **03/06/2019**

Sticks leaned in to get a better look, optics locked on Forceps's movements.  _.:I see. Sounds painful:. _ They carefully mirrored the other's servos when they saw something that looked tricky.  _.:Maybe someday my servos will be steady enough to do this:. _ they sighed. Vulcan beside them flinched. Sticks was quick to respond, giving them a comforting pat, "Can you tell me what you felt?"

Vulcan's face twitched slightly, "I could feel that piece come loose, uncomfortable."

"Any pain?"

"No," Vulcan sounded uneasy.

Sticks frowned. There wasn't much to do at this point, "Just breathe, alright?" A pause, "would it be better if Forceps let you know whenever they're going to pull a piece out?"

Vulcan spent a moment silent, focusing on their vents. "I think so, yes." they said finally. For a while they didn't speak, until they sighed again and quietly continued, "In my line of work you kept your weaknesses to yourself. Otherwise people could and would use them against you. You gathered what you could on others in case they ever decided to stab you in the back- or turned out to have done something heinous- then you triple checked everything you did so your servos would look clean. Nerve-wracking it was." A pause, "Suppose that's why I'm having a hard time grasping the idea of something like Crucible's list. It's an awful lot of trust to put in an awful lot of people."

"Think I can understand that, in some part," Sticks mumbled, having gone back to watching Forceps, "doubt you're the only one here who thinks that way, too. Which is why we look out for those near us- speaking of, Vulcan, would you do me a favor and accept this comm ping?"

As soon as they'd received confirmation from Vulcan, they sent them a comm,  _.:Since you're not caught up, the bot with Salvo is Red, do not, by any means, use the words 'oath' or 'mercy' around them. Their optics are a sensitive topic and should be avoided- they don't want new ones so don't ask. Am I clear?:. _

Vulcan held their breath a klik, tensing. They ex-vented slowly and replied  _.:I see, yes:. _

"Good," Sticks breathed, then commed Forceps  _.:Informed them about Red, figure it best to do that sooner rather than regretting it later. Gonna try to keep them calmer- get them talking about something better:. _

"So you're new here, then. It's good to see you're making friends," Sticks said with a cheery tone, "Reaver's good company."

"Oh, I should think so," Vulcan said, easing a little bit, they were absentmindedly patting Puppet's shoulders. A bit of confusion flitted across their face as they realized the bot was sitting up. Forceps had whistled earlier- what did that mean. The bot was also shifting their weight oddly- as if they were concentrated on something. "What do you have, dear?" they said at last. Hopefully it wasn't something dangerous.

.

March 7, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/07/2019**

Spade laughed a bit, pressing their face further into Arclight's panel as they closed their optics. This was much more gratifying than what they'd tried in the past. How did it not occur to them to try the efficient approach earlier? They stuck their tongue in as far as it would go, searching his valve walls for the slight indentations of sensors and relishing every small twinge of the mech's frame. Every fiber of their being told them that when they felt Arclight's thighs tense around them they should be doing more- giving their all. Instead they'd pause for a klik, and slow their movement, listening intently for the confirming moan coming from somewhere just next to them. 

Spade shifted their frame slightly, leaning their shoulder against his thigh. Their quiet hum of a purr kicked up a few decibels as their servo traveled up Arclight's leg, fingers tracing the edges of plates until they found his aft. They grabbed as much plating as they could hold and leaned in further, tongue retreating once again to swipe gently across the mech's node. They paused again and smiled. Their helm was firmly caressed in the warmth of his frame as his fingers teased around their audials. It was exceedingly nice. They let out a hot ex-vent  _.:At the risk of doing too much again, I'm gonna try something:. _ Again, slowly, they pressed their tongue to Arclight's node, but this time brought two fingers to follow right inside his valve at the same time.  _.:You're so wet, mech:. _ they laughed again.

##  **Betta132** **03/07/2019**

Forceps huffed, but obliged- tapping lightly at the side of Vulcan's helm before every new piece. Fine. They could do gentle. Mostly. 

How was Puppet supposed to answer that? They cocked their helm slightly and frowned at the tweezers, then at Vulcan, then went with the simplest solution. Namely, pinching Vulcan's wrist plating with the tweezers. They had this! Which was turning out to... not really be much of anything, was it? Just a little pinchy thing. This couldn't grab a mouse spark. Did mice have sparks? Puppet had never checked. 

"Forceps gave them a pair of tweezers to inspect. Seems to be helping," Vulcan noted, offering Puppet a little smile, then sobered a bit. "And it sounds like the bots you were working with were rather terrible people, overly prone to sabotage. Spies of some variety? Besides... you don't need to trust  _ everyone _ . You only need to trust that there are enough people here who will keep any potential threats from hurting anyone. And  _ you _ need to play along as well. Read the list. At least  _ try _ to remember what not to do. Oh, and- a small area of the ship is reserved only for very small bots. So they have an area where they don't have to worry about being stepped on, and for those having a day where they don't want to be around larger bots, for whatever reason. The doors are small in that area, hard to miss, so- stay out of there. The only bots other than the minis allowed in there are medics in emergency circumstances. There's a similar area only for large bots. Sensible ideas. Crucible is a sensible bot," he noted, and scritched more firmly between Puppet's winglets until they began to relax a bit further. "And it looks like most of that lens is gone. Which is... odd to look at, let me tell you, everything underneath is exposed and you can see a lot of detail in the focusing lenses. At least it doesn't bleed like other surgeries can."

It was, in fact, nearly gone. Forceps removed another, large shard, then leaned down to inspect the area before turning Vulcan's helm to the side. They set a folded rag under his helm, then took a small container of solvent from subspace and slowly poured it into the optic in question, to remove any remaining fragments. It was unlikely that anything was left, but- best to be safe. Too bad this lens was going to look a bit odd, it was a light blue shade that was going to wind up who knew what color exactly with Vulcan's natural shine-color added in. They'd have to see. 

.

"Yes, that's what happens when y-ooh,  _ fuck _ ," Arclight declared, absolutely not objecting even remotely to the slight penetration, and bucked gently into Spade. "Y'  _ purring _ against my  _ valve _ and fuckin' licking me out, that's what  _ happens _ when you  _ tongue-fuck _ someone," he groaned, though, nngh, this was less fucking and more... oh, what did people call this in the sexy little romance novels with all the touching and the gentle things? Sappy fuckers called it 'making love', and, nnh, that... that felt a lot more accurate here than referring to it as fucking. Too gentle. Too caring.  _ Fuck _ . 

Arclight's servo tightened gently on the back of Spade's helm for a moment, squeezing without actually pulling, then loosened in order to stroke their audial fins more firmly. "Mmgh, fuck, that's good," they summarized, squeezing and rubbing and stroking, the motions steadily getting less and less coordinated. "Nngh. Clever li'l-  _ good _ bot, Spade,  _ fuck _ , all... gentle 'n slag, so... mmn, do that  _ again _ ," they prompted, hips rocking again, their unoccupied servo gripping the blankets for support. Their valve was dripping steadily at that point, bordering on  _ gushing _ , the lips plump and bright, begging to be touched and stroked and adored. At this point, though, it was starting to be slightly more obvious that there were two little scars along the lower edge of the rim. The sort of thing one got from not quite enough stretching.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/07/2019**

"Oh!" Vulcan exclaimed, feeling the tiny pinch. They were quick to pulse something reassuring through their field, "That's excellent. I-" they felt Forceps tap and braced themself for a klik, "I do believe that would be excellent servo coordination training." They were silent for a moment, then continued, quieter, "Not spies, no,  _ politicians. _ At least spies have some sort of allegiance. Suppose I wasn't much at risk for direct violence, but they were... they were bad. And if it wasn't politicians it was nobles who could also ruin your life, ruin your legitimacy, and do so without any of the public knowing. I knew the mech who used to give senator Shockwave his paintjobs. He disappeared right about when the senator did but he, however, did not return." They paused as they felt Forceps tap again, "Between clients and competition, you could trust..." a short sigh,"only the ones you made. They, at least, had no ulterior motives."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/07/2019**

Vulcan fell silent again, listening to the quiet sounds from careful motions of Forceps's servos. "I will not live that way again," they said finally, "I don't want to be anyone's antagonist anymore. I'll do all I can." Another few moments of silence. They shifted slightly to cross their legs as they frowned in contemplation. They thought better of what they had in mind and changed the subject, "There are a great deal of moving parts in the optic that all take a significant amount of time to calibrate. Crafting one from scratch takes a great deal of patience and an even larger measure of skill. Not to mention there are  _ two _ of them," a wry laugh, "common practice was to outsource tricky organs like optics and transformation cogs. Therein lies problem the first- one is given the budget, if requested, to buy optics from someone who makes them for a living, however, cutting corners and, say, graverobbing, would net you that much more profit. Or you could spent months-even years if you're bad at it-making it yourself and who  _ knows _ how much that would cost in materials." They gestured carefully with their smaller servos, "One maker gets outed as having sourced their parts unethically, everyone comes under scrutiny. Many who cannot provide receipts for their parts lose their reputation, their jobs, everything. Good riddance, truthfully, but still it was stressful."

Sticks frowned, watching Forceps clean out the rest of Vulcan's optic, "lost their  _ jobs? _ When was this- the Functionalist government wouldn't let framebuilders go to waste."

Vulcan pondered for a moment, "I suppose they went into studio production. Or... I'd bet they were the ones tasked with mass production. It'd explain their dubious morals." They gently patted Puppet on the shoulders, dubious morals and sketchy practices. As they fell silent once again the idea came back to them. They'd just thought to deal with the adrenaline-filled mornings when bots would return loudly after their shifts, banging into each other, into the walls. But maybe... "Reaver..." their voice was soft and had an unmistakable note of vulnerability they couldn't quite cover up, "Is there... is there a quiet hall?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/07/2019**

Spade's field fluttered something confident. It took a great deal of willpower to restrain themself from going back to what they knew, but everything they were witnessing right now assured them that they were doing well. It didn't take long for them to notice the scars though and they frowned, opening their optics to pull away and get a better look. They ran a careful finger over them  a couple times but decided it was better not to ask. The glow of Arclight's valve lips was too enticing to stop themself. For a moment they gently caressed their fingertip along its edge before replacing it with their tongue. They leaned into Arclight's servo and shifted to fit both their fingers in his valve to slowly, systematically, massage the circumference. Every couple turns, pushing their way back. It felt as if they could spin Arclight's charge around their fingertips and he seemed to be relaxing so well under the attention. It was control, but a good kind- a delayed gift.

Arclight's lube dripped down Spade's chin as they pushed their face back into their panel.  _.:How am I doing, too slow?:. _

 

"The more I hear about Cybertron, the more thankful I am that I was born into a very reclusive society, and the more I understand the reclusiveness," Reaver muttered, then glanced up to Vulcan and elaborated. "My Order built itself around a small hotspot, very small- a spark or two a year, generally, all of them Seekers. I'm told it's not unusual for the smallest spots to have a much more limited frametype range, and I know there are multiple superstitions that try to explain the phenomenon. Some called us a cult, but from my understanding, a group is not a cult unless there are certain harmful dynamics present. Which we definitely did not fit. Everyone was free to leave, but we did stay to ourselves, away from the rest of Cybertron as much as possible. For. Many reasons, including this. And- I'm not sure about a  _ hall _ , but Patches has at least one room off the medbay set up to be as relaxing as possible. He holds movie night sometimes. I can show you where, after Forceps is done with this."

Forceps took the new lens from the packet, rinsing it with saline, then grasped it carefully with the tweezers and began to place it. Ease the edge underneath the edge of the silicone anchor-edges, use a probe to keep carefully lifting the silicone up along the edge, let go of the lens with the tweezers, and everything settled firmly into place. A slow, gentle stroke around the very edge of the lens, smoothing the silicone in, then Forceps removed the device holding Vulcan's optic open. There.  _.:Finished. You can tell them to online their optics. And not to rub at it, at all- with the numbness, it's too hard to tell if the optic is being damaged. No touching,:. _ they warned, and opened the box, letting Vulcan free. 

Puppet stopped fumbling with the tweezers and blinked a couple of times, looking down at Vulcan, then leaned down -very close- to look at the new optic. Different. But not broken! Not broken was good.(edited)

"Graverobbing," Aponogee echoed, so, so quietly, and looked down at their servos for a moment. "I don't have any... he talked about it, some. He called it scavenging. But he said it... wouldn't work for me, he needed... specialty parts. But someone else... the big one, with the sharp edges. Doom. He told me they... melted corpses to make a frame. And then... that he was made after one of  _ those _ frames died. They just. Welded it back together, then... made him. His spark. He sounded proud," they noted, soft, tapping their fingertips against the floor slightly. "Doom sounds proud about... a lot of things that... don't seem like you'd be proud of them."

.

Arclight's leg twitched a bit at the attention to the scars, but it definitely wasn't a pain response. "Ooh. Fuck. Those're sensitive. But- ain't like most scars, just- was  _ stupid _ . Too much, too fast," he explained, then groaned, calipers clenching and rippling against Spade's fingers. "Fuuck. Yeah, li'l- too- not enough, just- more? Node's real sensitive, but- rim's good, can be a li'l rougher, go on- thrust a li'l harder, and, fuck- try them fingers deeper, c'mon, feels so- so  _ good _ , doin'- ahh, sappy li'l soft stuff like outta them  _ romance _ novels, always woulda figured-  _ fuck _ , think I like sappy," he decided, and rocked more firmly against Spade's helm. Not too hard, not too roughly, just- a nice, firm rocking motion. "Mmh. Primus. Fffuck tha's good," he moaned, static crackling down his whole frame in a quick, surging wave, and attempted to hook a leg around Spade's frame well enough to tug him closer. "C'mon, more- c'mon, c'mon, c'mon-"

March 9, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/09/2019**

Vulcan's audials perked up at Reaver's explanation, "Ah a hotspot!" A smile spread itself over their face, "I've been thinking, Reaver, you would have made an excellent blacksmith. You have precisely the right temperament for it. I should think being raised around the people who plucked you from the ground would be a lovely way to grow up. Letting the big ones go off into the world was always the hardest part." They added, voice tinged with a bit of sadness.

Sticks waited until Forceps sat back enough in case Vulcan decided to bolt upwards then squeezed their shoulder and spoke, "It's all done now Vulcan, you can online your optics whenever you're ready." 

Vulcan's optics flickered dimly at first, then gradually brightened. They could see Puppet's unmistakable silhouette even before their optics came fully back online. It took a klik to recalibrate everything as their vision adjusted to the more blue-balance. But at last they blinked a bit, their optics focusing on the face in front of them. They smiled wide as something warm and gentle pulled through their field. "Yes, hello dear. I'm fixed now, isn't it lovely," they crooned, raising a servo slightly.

"Don't touch your optic," Sticks was quick to inform, "You could seriously hurt it while it's still numb."

Vulcan looked up at them, at last able to give them an affirming nod then turned back to Puppet, "I'm sitting up, don't be alarmed, I've got you." Then, keeping a good grip on the bot with both small arms they did exactly that, balancing their weight on one big servo planted on the floor, "This Doom mech, made of corpses. That is terribly unhealthy for the frame- no doubt massively uncomfortable too, to have such a high percentage of mixed material- at least I assume this is the case as putting a new spark in a deceased frame has never had good results. I will extend my services to him." A pause, "crafting frames from corpses... how monstrous, I wonder if this is where dethroned frame-makers went."

They looked back to Sticks and then to Forceps finally, making optic contact. They reached out with a servo but paused and thought better of what they were going to do, retreating it back to the floor. "Thank you Forceps," they said, finally. Now that they were upright and with fully functioning optics, it was clear to see that one optic had its original bright amber, while the other shone a dull yellow-green. They cleared their throat, "Is it possible to reclaim all the shards of my previous lens? I believe I may be able to fix it on my own."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/09/2019**

Spade pressed closer, shifting their servo to stroke along the seams in the small of Arclight's back. They took a bit, swirling their finger languidly around the circumference of his valve, delighting in its undulating response, trying to figure out how they wanted to play this. If they actually gave in and went faster or harder they risked overdoing it again and plus, they had a streak going, too much would mean they wouldn't be able to finish him having been efficient the entire way. And on top of it all, they were reaching the full length of their fingers- it wasn't like they could go much deeper. They slowly angled their servo to catch some of the lube in their palm and began to stroke their thumb up the inside of his valve lips as they continued their slow pace. They liked being in control,  _ feeling _ the gradual buildup of charge in the tiny twitches of Arclight's leg against their back, in the tingly, crackling static that danced up their face, and now they had a plan.

_.:Sappy, huh? maybe I should start dirty talking you, even it out:. _ Spade smiled as they gently flicked Arclight's node with their tongue,  _.:What do you think, slag?:. _

##  **Betta132** **03/09/2019**

"Hm, yes, Doom is... something," Reaver muttered, wincing slightly. "You may have seen him- big, dark red mech, sharp angles everywhere. Still working on his vocabulary. Either his pain sensors don't work properly or he has a very high pain tolerance, because he's been. Well. Evidently a decent number of his joints are uncomfortable in one way or another, you can practically  _ hear _ them, and he tends to start... pulling plating off until it stops. I take it the medics have been having some trouble with getting him to let them help. I'm not sure he would" a pause, then a harder wince at a thought, "-hm, no, I really don't suggest telling him that you made people. He makes very direct connections, and I strongly suspect he would connect you with the bots who made him like that. He would not be pleased with you. But it is an awful concept, isn't it? He told me, and proudly, that people referred to his batch as  _ demons _ . That his batch, and the ones before him, the ones he was  _ made _ of, were built to die in battle. That he was the only one from his batch to survive their final  _ deployment _ . It's no wonder the mech spent the start of his time here wanting to literally murder every Autobot badge he saw. If you do offer your services... please do so carefully and in a public area."

"Something is wrong with his field. He scares me, I think. I'm pretty sure that feeling is 'scared'," Aponogee contributed, and tucked themself into a little ball up against Reaver's frame. "He's kind of... loud. With his everything. He tried to break a door because it was locked. And he grabs. But... I guess it's not his fault, is it? He's... something's wrong with his emotions. Maybe they didn't make him right," they muttered, then blinked a couple of times and leaned in slightly, optics trying to focus on Vulcan's face. It still didn't work, but  _ light _ , now  _ that _ they could see properly, and they could see the color. "It's different. Does it hurt?" 

Puppet leaned in to inspect Vulcan up close, rumbling quietly in the back of their throat, not entirely liking the change. That was different.  _ Different _ , and they didn't like that something had changed. They knew how Vulcan looked, but now Vulcan looked different. Wobbling a bit, they lifted a servo to pat lightly at the side of Vulcan's helm, making a quiet, uneasy little sound. 

Forceps gathered all the shards into the little packet that had formerly held the new lens, looking vaguely skeptical at the idea of repairing this mess. Melting it down to make a new optic lens, maybe? That could work. But repairing it... that would leave seams, and seams were less than ideal in one's optic lens. Ah well. Up to Vulcan, who hopefully knew how to make proper optics. 

.

Ooh. That was a bit less like the novels. Arclight stirred slightly, rumbling low in his throat, and purred down at Spade. "Naughty. Fuck, that's  _ tasty _ . C'mon, tell me what yer gonna  _ do _ -" he groaned, rocking his hips a bit more firmly into Spade's frame, and moaned as clever fingers found a particularly sensitive area. " _ Ooh _ fuck, that's th' spot," he muttered, and rocked a bit more firmly into Spade's motions, legs tightening slightly. "Mm, fuck-" 

Ah,  _ there _ , Spade had the idea! That was definitely one strategy to take with a valve, and, mm,  _ fuck _ , that felt  _ good _ . Arclight's back arched and he  _ groaned _ , hips hitching in a few quick motions, servos bracing more firmly against the berth and against Spade's helm. He was as careful as he could not to be too rough with Spade, but, Primus, this slow-building charge was coming on surprisingly strong, was- ffuck- 

And then his charge  _ broke _ , and Arclight arched their back, keening a surprisingly high note, legs quivering against Spade's frame as their valve clenched and gushed lubricant against Spade's face. Panting, they slowly went limp against the berth, one pede twitching once or twice, and purred dazedly in the back of his throat.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/09/2019**

"Thank you, dear," Vulcan said to Forceps, gathered the bag into their servo, giving it a brief appraisal before subspacing it away. Lots of pieces but perhaps if they lined them up just right they'd be able to float them together without having to risk damaging the pigment by melting them down. Crucible's forge was lovely but lacked the fine control of a kiln. They sighed at Puppet's scrutiny, "oh, dear does it really look so bad?" They quickly moved to touch underneath their optic with a couple fingers.

"Ah! Stop that!" Sticks said, tapping quickly on their nearest arm, "What did I just say?"

Vulcan turned to Sticks, "Does it look bad, Sticks?"

The medic-in-training let out an exasperated sigh, "Looks better than a broken optic. And don't touch unless you want it to look worse!" They shook their helm then added, "It might take a few minutes for the tissue around your optic to tighten up again, it was stretched a fair bit. And keep in mind, you  _ were _ punched in the face."

Vulcan sighed, "It'll probably hurt later then, at least it doesn't now." They eyed Puppet again, giving them a light pat on the back, "Examine as long as you like, my dear, it's okay. And Aponogee too, if you'd like a closer look I don't mind." Another sigh was followed by a moment of silence, their optics met Reaver's, "Another to avoid, then." they sounded sad, "I don't quite know what to do with myself, to be frank... Suppose I should prepare for more broken optics in the future. I... can't bring myself to be afraid, it's not like I can't defend myself."

Sticks's optics narrowed, "Is that what happened to Salvo's visor?"

##  **Malusdraco** **03/09/2019**

Salvo looked up at his name and watched Sticks walk over to him, quietly relaying the fact to Red. Sticks, when they arrived, flickered Red a quick greeting and leaned over to examine Salvo's face. "Your turn now," They said, grabbing Salvo's chin and turning it toward themself. They gently traced a fingertip around the edges of the seam, feeling for any minute broken bits, "He get a counterhit in or what? Does..." They trailed off and turned to Red instead, "Have you noticed anything unusual, Red? I can't spot anything that looks broken or bleeding."

"Hey and what about me?" Salvo said, sounding slightly offended.

"Tell me, Salvo, when was the last time you informed me about one of your own injuries-" 

Salvo's mouth moved to say something before Sticks tapped a finger on his lips to silence him, "That I didn't  _ ask you about _ beforehand, hmm?"

Salvo quieted, then shook his helm, unable to keep a smile off his face.

"I didn't break it," Vulcan cut in, "I wouldn't hit someone, let alone my- my son."

Sticks turned around, optics narrowed at Vulcan, they were done playing nice for a patient's sake, "Why don't you let Salvo decide whether or not you're  _ allowed _ to call him your son. Now if you didn't break it then where did it go?"

"It's... in pieces, in the hallway," Salvo said, "I got... angry."

Sticks sighed, not quite knowing how to respond.

"I have it- the pieces." Vulcan said, pulling a servoful of lime green rounded shards from subspace, "I can repair it- I  _ will _ repair it."

Sticks stayed silent, optics stern as they stared at Vulcan from across the room. They commed Forceps  _.:You don't happen to have some sort of fix with you do you? I've got some experimental bug-paste in subspace that should do the job but you're the mentor here:. _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/09/2019**

Spade's optics brightened in surprise as Arclight came, letting the charge and lubricant wash over their face. They quickly swirled their finger a few times around his valve until everything settled down again. They popped their helm up from between Arclight's thighs, positively dripping in lube. They licked their lips of lube and smiled as wide as they could- it was genuine too. They were going to say something but stopped themself as the image struck them. The mech sprawled out on the berth, still trying to catch his breath. The light from the lantern left half his torso in shadow and warped around the heat of his armor. He looked content, tired, but content- he just about glowed. They wanted to remember this moment, the gratification, the joy. Very carefully they sat up a bit, moving their servos in front of their optics to block out his panel and took a snap. 

With a sigh, Spade spoke finally, leaning over to pet one of Arclight's thighs, "Didn't get to do my special move. Ya came too fast." They laughed a bit, "It was gonna be something like," they held their servo up and spun two fingers in a small circle.  Their servo settled down again to his stomach just above his panel. A moment's consideration and they hauled themself up and over Arclight's leg, "Alright I'm coming up there." 

Spade were careful this time to not put weight on their stomach cables, and crawled up beside him, leaning their frame on his. "S' the first time I've been able to do that-make someone overload on my own. Usually just spike me instead." They wiggled in a little closer, "It feels good."

##  **Betta132** **03/09/2019**

"You know, in my experience, prodding at delicate areas that have been numbed is a bad idea. People tend to end up putting their claws through whatever they're prodding when they can't feel what they're doing," Reaver commented, shifting to pet between Aponogee's sails. Mostly so he could leave Puppet free to move. "And I rather think you should learn some level of self-defense. You don't want to hurt anyone, fine, but there is a very large space between hurting people and presenting your entire face as a target. Perhaps aim for something in the vicinity of getting punched in the  _ forearms _ instead. Do you have any idea how to block a blow?" he asked, scritching around the base of one of Aponogee's sails. 

Puppet had definitely heard that part, and grabbed Vulcan's wrist in both servos, pulling it down and away from their optic. No! No prodding at things that might get broken! Evidently Vulcan wasn't listening very well about that, so Puppet took it upon themself to be the common sense for once. Which evidently involved more or less sitting on Vulcan's free servo, and holding onto the wrist of the other in lieu of sitting on a bunch of shards. Grumbling, they held tight and planted their face in Vulcan's chassis, fairly displeased with the whole situation. Something had changed  _ and _ Vulcan might be about to hurt something. No hurting something!

_.:I have cyanoacrylate glue. Better than nothing. We can make him a replacement later. And I suspect we might be dealing with this particular patient again, soon. I rather suspect he might get himself punched for nothing more than his mannerisms setting people off, and then there's... everything else. Including his prior occupation. We should really keep him away from Doom,:. _ Forceps suggested, gathering up the little workstation again.  _.:Fun. Emotions. At least they haven't put their emotions all over everything else yet. Minimum of sobbing. Always ideal:. _

Red muttered something about not dictating someone else's relationships and leaned against Salvo a bit more firmly, one arm around them, helm cocked to face Sticks. "Nothing unusual. Well. Nothing  _ new _ . The bug paste... helm glue is unusual, but hardly new." 

.

"Skill's fun," Arclight managed, slurring a bit, and  _ purred _ as much as they could at. Everything. The lingering tingles in their valve, the wonderful post-overload laxness, Spade's... Spade was just having emotions all over this, weren't they? And it was amazing. Arclight liked this 'emotions all over things' stuff when it was the good emotions. "Figure out moves later. Rather. You'n the. Mm, fuck, sappy li'l... fuckin'... I-I knew a- hang on." 

Curling up a bit, they put an arm around Spade and vented deeply until they reeled their coherence up, "There was a. Li'l... writer-bot. Used t' come'n read fuckin' sweet-sappy porn. 'Erotica'. Cute li'l fuck. Shy. All kinds of real... gentle stuff. Always kinda  _ wanted _ t' try that, but. Construction bots. Got all the 'gentle' of a jackhammer. Knew a mech who fuckin'-  _ sat _ on the holdin' part on a jackhammer an' just- overloaded like five times an' couldn't feel his whole crotch f' a week. Don't, uh. Don' know if you oughta do that," he muttered, squinting a bit down at Spade. "I wanna. You got... not enough sensors. Where d' we- can't just plug in the new ones, yeah? You want new ones?"

March 10, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/10/2019**

"Oh dear, Puppet  _ now _ how am I supposed to pet you," Vulcan said, just the slightest whine to his tone, "But I suppose you're right, somebody must keep me from hurting myself." He leaned over Puppet as much as he could, setting the side of his face against their helm so that he could talk to Reaver. He was quiet for a moment, trying to piece together exactly how to say what he was thinking. Surely Reaver meant well, they thought. They cleared their throat, "This... was an extenuating circumstance that I was... rather inclined to let play out, I- I deserved it. I am, however, not defenseless. I do not intend to risk leaving Puppet behind, nor do I intend to leave this reality without doing a great deal more good. I suppose I shall take threats as they come. Believe me when I say I have been trained for and dealt with much worse." A deep breath, "If this means I'll need to carry my scythe around for the forseeable future, then so be it."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/10/2019**

Sticks's optic twitched as they listened to Vulcan  _.:If I know anything they've already done that. Vulcan doesn't seem the type to be able to hold in their emotions. I'm going to put Salvo's visor back together now- he won't say it out loud but he gets really antsy without it. Liable for him to become a repeat customer:. _ They gave Red a smile, following it up with a friendly ping after they realized their smile wouldn't be seen. "I'm still trying to perfect the compound but insect-derived ferrokeratin is promising. Has more structure than-anyway, if you want to talk about it sometime I can tell you about my research." They then turned to Salvo and chucked him under his chin, "We're fixing this now and no complaining."

Sticks, emboldened, turned on their heel and marched over to Vulcan, extending a servo, "I'm going to fix Salvo's visor now, please give me the pieces."

Vulcan stared down at the tiny bot with an expression that gave away their doubt. They drew their servo slightly closer to their frame, "Oh, I can do it."

"I don't think you quite understood me, Vulcan, we're doing it now. You may not know but this isn't just something you can put off," Sticks's wheels were turning slightly in forcefully-cooled agitation.

"I can fix it perf-"

"What are you getting at?"

"I can fix it perfectly," Vulcan repeated, "Any quick method would leave weak points and it'd break again- it shouldn't have broken in the first place-not just from hitting the ground. This is tempered silicate- I know, I forged it myself. I'm sorry, Salvo, it shouldn't be this brittle," they thumbed over the pieces, trying to figure out where they'd gone wrong.

Sticks was quiet, they were looking at the ground now, unable to face Vulcan. Their servos clenched and loosened. Don't take it personally. Whatever you do don't take it personally. This wasn't about their pride, or their legitimacy, it was about their friend not walking around with a worrying  _ hole _ in his face. They took a deep breath and spoke to the floor, "His visor exploded when he got shot in the helm. I repaired it with what I could at the time- not ideal materials. It probably broke around the seams"

" _ Shot in the helm, _ " Vulcan exclaimed, "Salvo..." He looked up across the way at the mech, a significantly worried expression on his face.

"It was a long time ago," Sticks said.

"But- then you were part of-"

"The Choir, yeah."

A moment of silence between the two.

"Thank you for- for keeping him alive," Vulcan finally said.

"Sure." Sticks muttered.  _.:We don't happen to have spare visors around? Something that'll cover his face enough:. _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/10/2019**

"I guess it was kinda sappy, huh." Spade said, content from their spot next to Arclight, "I made a bet with myself the from the beginning that the whole time I wouldn't overdo it- and that it could be good. Efficiency. And I was right-" they frowned suddenly, "un-unless that was fake. Didn't  _ look _ fake. I'd wonder how you faked that much lube." They quieted a bit, "Never really been one for gentle stuff either, hasn't done anything for me. Can't imagine sitting on a jackhammer though- that's too much. You know it's too much when even  _ I _ say it's too much. -fuckin... sensors."

They quite liked this, being sandwiched between arm and chassis, feeling the rumble of Arclight's voice as much as hearing it. It felt safe. They leaned their helm against Arclight and hummed slightly, "Sappy is nice though. Feels more... personal. S'been a while." A tired smile pulled its way onto their face, "I did take a snap of you earlier without saying anything. I'll get rid of it if you don't approve but... It's good. You look good. You... want to see?"

##  **Betta132** **03/10/2019**

"You know, I don't think that visibly carrying a  _ weapon _ is the best plan," Reaver noted, now with Aponogee practically in his lap. "Something more along the lines of... tolerating and deflecting whatever happens until people get used to you. They will eventually, and I'm not sure there's anything you can do to hasten that, save perhaps doing things that people like. And... do try not to... look at people as though you doubt anything and everything they could possibly do. It's a very good way to make someone dislike you immediately," he warned, scritching around the back of Aponogee's helm. "Especially when the matter is something to do with helping their friend." 

_.:We do. I will get one, and I will insist again that we could seal up that hole. We should. Must try to persuade him into it,:. _ Forceps grumbled, and left, tossing  _.:try not to injure him any further:. _ over their shoulder as they went.  _.:Aft or not, he is a patient, and we don't injure patients. When possible. And currently it is possible to not injure anyone. Let me know if and when that changes. Try not to punch anyone:. _

"Your creator is a dick," Red muttered, glaring over Salvo's shoulder in Vulcan's general direction, and gave him a tight squeeze. "I like you much better. Ignore them. Just," they whispered, sliding both servos up to cover Salvo's optics, "relax. Ignore them."(edited)

##  **Betta132** **03/10/2019**

Forceps was back shortly, holding a fairly generic visor. These were good to keep around for just this reason. They'd put one on Soundwave once! People who kept their optics covered didn't generally like to be exposed, so there were a few spare visors in the medbay. Even one specifically designed for Soundwave, now. This one, Forceps handed to Sticks instead of trying to deal with the tangle of Red and Salvo, winglets hitching up a bit to look around at the room. Had they gotten up to anything? This seemed like a batch of people likely to get up to things. 

.

"Fuck yeah I wanna see," Arclight muttered, then scoffed up at the ceiling. "Not gonna  _ fake _ it. If you suck, gonna complain. Gotta do that, yeah? Gotta- if someone sucks, you gotta tell 'em, don't just... put up with it. You'll get... real lousy fragging if y' do that. This? Ain't lousy," they declared, pulling a blanket up higher, and curled snugly around Spade's frame. "Yer. Fuckin'... tiny li'l sappy bot, clever li'l glossa. This's good. Lemme. Lemme keep y' for a bit. You... okay? Hurtin' any?" 

This... this was perfect. Almost too good, almost suspicious, but... so good. And too real to be a dream. Dreams didn't feel like  _ this _ , even the really good wet ones. And they never came with this... quiet sensation of being about to fall asleep. Blinking drowsily, they glanced down at Spade, then shifted an arm slightly under the blankets. "Uh. I tend t'... move. If I move around some, just... blankets. 'll try not to. Kick you or anythin'."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **03/10/2019**

As Forceps left the room, Sticks found they had little to do. They let their arms hang by their sides and tried not to look as gutted as they felt. Vulcan watched sadly. He hadn't intended that! Just wanted to make sure Salvo would be properly repaired. He didn't know this  _ apprentice _ was the one taking care of him for who knows how long. They sighed, "Goodness I've stepped on quite a lot of pedes today. I am sincerely sorry, Sticks. How long have you been an apprentice?"

Sticks took a deep breath and looked back up at Vulcan, "A few months now." They frowned slightly, "I object to being considered like I know nothing. I'm not  _ that _ ignorant. And-" another deep breath, their plating flaring out as their optics glowed brighter, "I object to you! You just coming on this ship acting like you've done  _ anything _ for Salvo more than giving him multiple exploitable weak spots. You know what it's like watching the mech who'd just saved me be wheeled away on a stretcher cause someone didn't give enough of a fuck about his wellbeing?" Sticks was real angry now, "And that  _ hole _ in his face, you forget that leads to his fucking  _ processor? _ You know how many times I had to pull slag out of there? Burrowing worms?"

Salvo winced and leaned into Red's servos. He was going to complain at having his vision obscured, but he didn't think he'd much like watching Sticks be angry at someone on his behalf- it wasn't right. He'd done his part, anyhow.

"Worms?" Vulcan cried, looking once again at Salvo, "I-I don't know-"

##  **Malusdraco** **03/10/2019**

"Look at me Vulcan," Sticks growled. The mech obeyed. "Stop pretending like you've done anything good for  _ him _ or  _ anyone else. _ " They barely registered the door opening again, "So people are gonna be pissed at you -you're going to take your punishment. And I'll be there to fix you up and send you in again, until someday you've learned to be a better fucking person."

Their optics caught Forceps's as they broke line of sight. They took a deep breath and stood up straight, patting down their plating with their servos. They softly padded over to the medic and grabbed the outstretched visor. They spent a moment looking it over- it looked like it might fit- at least horizontally. They met optics with Forceps again, looking an odd mixture of guilty, angry, and confident,  _.:May have snapped a bit:. _ They turned away with the visor to Salvo and Red. Vulcan meanwhile, was hugging Puppet close, having put away the visor pieces back in subspace. His optics looked blank, hollow.

.

"I'm not sappy! You slag-" Spade said, laughing a bit. They curled up further next to Arclight under the blankets, "Not hurting anywhere, no. Not yet at least. I feel... good. Feel like I've helped- feel like I've done something." They buried their face into Arclight's side and once again closed their optics. They weren't afraid. They could feel the mech around them- a wall which everything else would bounce off of. He trusted them. His servos wouldn't hurt them. "You start rolling over on me I'll kick u awake." Their voice was muffled by the blanket and their proximity to Arclight's armor. The big mech seemed tired, and they weren't particularly inclined to walk back- probably wouldn't make it all the way back to the medbay. It only took a few minutes to feel the exhaustion from the rest of their frame start to seep into their mind as well. They hadn't thought they'd be able to sleep with anyone in a long time, but this was as far away from their problems as they were going to get, they might as well try to squeeze as much as they could out of this moment. 

A few moments silent and they sent Arclight the snap they'd taken,  _.:Here, it's good isn't it?:. _

##  **Betta132** **03/10/2019**

Red gave an odd sort of vibrating motion for a moment, field prickling, and rather abruptly stood up. Granted, they stood in Salvo's lap and nearly slipped, but they stood up, and they stepped down onto the floor without falling. Moving a bit slowly but too honestly upset to  _ not _ do this, they walked carefully until they were fairly close to Vulcan, and fixed their helm as though staring. "You... you don't think. You have to  _ think _ if- if you want to build someone. You- you have to think about- about how someone could  _ use _ something, because they- they will! Some people are just" a little shudder " _ horrible _ , and so many others don't care, and- and you are  _ privileged _ ! You- you are  _ safe _ , you never- no one thought to use you up, to-" 

A pause, shaking, and they scrubbed their servos across their face in a quick motion. "-you have to  _ think _ . To- to build people with- if you have to put a-a new aperture in someone's frame, you  _ protect _ it! You- you don't set someone up so they- so they'll  _ bleed out _ if someone else holds a trigger too long! I-I don't care what you were told to do- you find a way  _ around _ it, because you are- you are dictating someone's  _ life _ , how they'll  _ live _ , how they'll  _ die _ \- you can't just do that! You're... you don't think," they sighed, and turned away, frame suddenly aching all over from a thousand old wounds. Looking exhausted, they limped back to Salvo and curled up in his lap, pressing their face into his throat. They couldn't... just... Primus.

##  **Betta132** **03/10/2019**

Aponogee looked back and forth between everyone, then, moving slowly, reached out and gathered Vulcan and Puppet up. Optics soft, they curled up and snuggled the two, despite Puppet's grumbled protests. "Don't, uh. Don't think you should. You shouldn't fight them. I don't know if you'd win. You can't move right, but they can't see. Is that fair?" they pondered quietly, optics soft and a bit fuzzy. "Doesn't. Doesn't really matter, I guess. And I... don't really... know much here. But. I don't.. think you meant to hurt anyone. And I don't think I'm angry. Am I?" they questioned, and found nothing like an answer. They weren't great with this whole... emotions thing. Not their own, not other people's, not yet. But they had Vulcan, and they weren't going to let go for now. 

Even if it meant Puppet beeping rather irritably from somewhere in the general area of their chassis. Puppet could stand it. Vulcan... maybe not so much. Vulcan probably needed to be held. Right? 

.

_.:Fuck I'm hot,:. _ Arclight declared, and, on that note, fell fast asleep. They felt  _ safe _ . Warm and hidden away and  _ safe _ , tucked up with the sweetest little mech. Just... warm. Perfect. So... so warm. 

Feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in  _ years _ , Arclight crashed hard, vanishing into sleep and staying there. It would have taken a jackhammer to the face to wake them up, and possibly not even that. 

 

The tiny author who stumbled upon them was absolutely not enough to wake them up. 

Quill hadn't meant to wind up in here! They'd just... forgotten that there was only one way out of the bar that wasn't particularly odd. This? The controls were in reach for once, but this was... not the right way out. Squinting a bit through the single extra lens over their optic, they stepped in a bit closer, helm cocked, trying to get a look at the situation. "Oh, I'm- I'm sorry, I-I didn't realize you were... are- are you... asleep? Or- oh, oh goodness," they squeaked, and spun on one padded heel, intending to leave as fast as possible. They over-spun a bit, though, and smacked clean into the wall on the way back out. Yikes! Not their business!

Arclight didn't even twitch. Granted, Quill running into a wall wasn't as loud as most.(edited)

March 11, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/11/2019**

Vulcan's chassis seemed to seize at Red's words. They felt numb all over as the realization hit them all at once-  _ they _ were responsible for the deaths of those they'd built. Every single one who they'd loved so dearly, they'd sent to their doom. Any closure they'd had about their children exploded open from the seams. They didn't have an excuse. They didn't have any words. They leaned over, their arms loosening around Puppet as they stuck their face into the nearest available space and let out a quiet, choked sob. Their field, pulled in close, was saturated a heavy mixture of wrenching guilt and despair. Tears came quickly and didn't show any sign of stopping. Even as Aponogee leaned in they barely reacted. They didn't deserve comfort, especially not from one whose creators were hardly worse than they.

Sticks caught Red on the way back, gently tapping them on the thigh to offer their frame as support. The stifled sobbing coming from Vulcan's chair grated at their mind, but they had a task to do. As soon as they'd made sure Red was set, they caught Salvo's face with a servo. His optics looked tired, his expression grim but thoughtful. "Come on," Sticks mumbled, holding up the visor, "let's see if it fits."

Salvo's optics were trained on the shaking pile of Vulcan for a few moments before they looked back at Sticks and let them fit the visor to his face. "I can fight my own battles," He said quietly.

Sticks silently checked the edges one last time before letting their servos down, "This wasn't just your battle. That was for me as much as it was for you. Red and me."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/11/2019**

Salvo straightened up a bit to get a feel for how the visor fit. It was a slightly different shape, covering less of his nasal bridge than the other, and lit up a light aqua color, but it'd do the job. He sighed and returned to watching Vulcan. He'd voiced his complaints, his friends had voiced theirs but... it felt  _ bad. _ The mech was crying, he looked  _ pathetic. _

Sticks continued talking, optics still tracking Salvo's visor, "Now it's become more relevant, I'm going to ask you again- what are we gonna do with the hole in your face?" They waited for a bit for a response but received none, "We've got supplies now and people who actually know what the fuck they're doing. And I'm recovering from my... everything. We can actually fix the slag he's done to your frame."

Salvo was only half listening, he was still watching Vulcan, his expression the 'I don't know what to think' genre of inscrutable. "The song, Sticks," He murmured.

"What so-"

"The lullaby, the one you couldn't identify," Salvo said, a little more insistent, "He sang it to me. It had my  _ name _ in it."

Sticks was quiet for a bit, trying to put together what Salvo was saying. And then it clicked. The one he sang when he... broke. They never wanted to hear it again if they could help it. They looked over their shoulder at the mech. He'd fallen over slightly, and was leaning his helm against the chair, seemingly ignoring the people around him. They couldn't quite tell if their pity overwhelmed their disgust and from the way Salvo's field twinged as the mech shifted to cover their face, he couldn't either.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/11/2019**

Enough emergency mornings had destroyed Spade's ability to sleep in, they were rousted out of deep sleep by the sound of the door opening, only quite waking up by the time the sound from Quill's startled peeps and their crash against the wall. For a moment they forgot how they'd gotten here, adrenaline wiping any chance of falling back asleep clean away. There was a person next to them, a big person, and someone else they couldn't see yet- an  _ intruder. _ They tensed all the way, trying to figure out a way out of the situation. As the last sticky vestiges of sleep un-stuck from their mind, they realized the frame next to them was Arclight's. He was... miraculously still asleep. Okay, alright, that's one problem dealt with, there was still the intruder to deal with. The anxiety snaked between their bare muscle cables, excellent, fantastic, great. They tried deep breaths to remind their frame that as of now things were under control, which only partially worked. They could still feel a light crawling- a level they were mildly used to, an  _ annoying _ level.

Irritable as all hell, Spade pushed the blanket away and popped their helm up in the crook of Arclight's arm. Their yellow optics simple specks against the shadow as they searched for the culprit. As their gaze landed on Quill they were... slightly surprised. Small thing, smaller than Sticks even as far as they could tell, and an empuratee to boot. Likely easy to intimidate. They didn't like the implications of being found. If it was just Scissor and Syringe who knew, that was fine. But a third? That's when things got tricky. Which then brought up the question of if this stranger was truly the third. It would be prudent to thoroughly check over their armor later to make sure nobody had planted anything in it. They were going to do a routine frame check any- they'd been spotted.

Spade ducked down a little bit behind Arclight's arm and growled, "They're  _ dead. _ I killed them and you're next if you don't leave and keep your mouth-keep quiet." There, that should be good enough.

##  **Betta132** **03/11/2019**

Puppet squawked a rather angry little noise, squirming against Vulcan's arms, and made a momentary but sincere effort to escape and get to Red. They weren't sure what they intended to do, but it was something! They couldn't get free, though, not of the combination of Vulcan and Aponogee. Not with their limited coordination, though. Huffing, they slumped limp into the tangle of bots, then grumbled, sighed, and pushed their face into Vulcan's throat. This was the best they could do- sit here and try to comfort Vulcan, hold them close, try to... hm. 

Vulcan sang, sometimes. Puppet couldn't sing right, but the few times they'd tried, it had always made Vulcan happy. So, left with nothing else to do, they tried again. Soft at first, then a bit louder, rising and falling gently as they tried to adhere to the pattern of the song. They couldn't lift the tones quite high or low enough, couldn't switch pitches quite as fast as required, and couldn't hit that nice, deep rumble in their chassis, but they tried. It sounded like a song, at least, just not quite the same one.

"Ah, lovely, you've broken them," Reaver muttered, and shifted around a bit further, tucking an arm around Vulcan's frame as well as he could. He'd never really been one to sit and let people cry. Even people he wasn't sure about yet. Vulcan didn't strike him as malicious, only... well, Red was right. They didn't think. That wasn't malicious, only... dumb. Forgivable. Might help that Reaver didn't have anything personal against Vulcan. Sighing, he gave Reaver a firm squeeze, then loosened a bit and sighed, scritching absently at what he could reach of Aponogee. "Deep vents. You can't help that now." 

Red gave a quiet, uncertain little sound, wriggling a bit, and pushed into Salvo's frame to hide, and hide from, their uncertainty about the whole situation. They were not going to feel bad for this mech. They were not. Or... at least... not  _ yet _ . Maybe. Maybe later. 

.

Quill vanished with a final noise of dismay, and immediately ran into someone else. Hard, too, by the sound of it. That didn't leave the two alone, though- not for long. 

"Funny. Sounded more like fucking than killing," Meso remarked, sticking his helm around the edge of the slightly open door. His ears pricked and quivered, and his optics shone oddly as they reflected the light back, whiskers up in a smirk. "Either you got two sparks or they're fine," he noted, and stepped further into the little passageway. "Rude, spookin' them. They don't- aw, fuck, ya  _ nasty _ ," he complained, pulling a brush from subspace, and made a distinct motion towards them. "Nasty fuckers! Ya got stuff everywhere- look at you. Nasty, get over here, gotta scrub you off-" 

Arclight didn't wake up, but snuffled a bit and curled up tighter, holding Spade close. And, notably, making it so Meso couldn't particularly reach. That didn't phase the little beastformer, though- and Arclight, surprisingly, didn't wake up even as Meso set to scrubbing their flank. They did sneeze, but that was it. 

"Bad place for scrubbing!" Duo complained from somewhere outside the door, and just about vaulted over the bartop to get to the passageway, foreseeing Spade not responding well to Meso's... everything. Meso was a lot to deal with. He was great if you were feeling up to it, though!

March 12, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/12/2019**

Vulcan shuddered at the touches, not quite wanting to accept them but knowing it felt good. They blubbered something along the lines of "may as well have killed them myself," and tried, unsuccessfully to pull away. And then Puppet started to  _ sing _ and a new wave of tears flooded their face. Very softly they wrapped all four arms around them, just about creating a wall of their own limbs. Now more than  _ ever _ they resolved to keep Puppet safe. They were going to do their best for those they still had. They always intended to, but now there was no mistake. It was their duty, their only chance at touching any sort of redemption. Ever so gently they brought a shaking servo up to pet the back of Puppet's helm. They needed to focus on the present.

Eventually their whimpering quieted, their guilt and grief stowed for a time and place where they could properly process exactly what it meant to have created such immensely flawed frames. They took a shaking vent and pressed their forehelm into Puppet's. "That's- that's my, f-favorite song," they said, voice barely held together. Not as if they'd recognized the song. It didn't seem like any song in particular, but it was Puppet's song, which made it about the best thing they'd heard.

A few more moments of silence and Vulcan pulled away, letting Puppet loose finally. They looked down and gently placed a servo over the device on their chassis. A harrowed look passed over their face as their frame seemed to sag. They stroked their trembling thumb on the side. "There's one left. I am-was almost- almost done with his frame. But I can't-won't trust it's suitable," their voice came out thick, "I- I don't know what to do-running out of time." Their servo twitched on the device but they paused and let out a long ex-vent. "I want him to live," they said, barely louder than a whisper, "I want his frame to be perfect and I want him to live."

Sticks was watching Vulcan, a confused look on their face. Their optics flicked to Forceps,  _.:You know what they're talking about? One left?:. _


	21. Chapter 21

##  **Malusdraco** **03/12/2019**

Spade shrunk back into Arclight's arms as Meso got closer, well their bluff worked on  _ one _ person. But there were multiple people now, meaning a thorough thrice-over of their armor was going to be a must and-wait what was he doing. Spade's optics flashed in anger as Meso took out the brush, "YOU!" they screeched, "Get  _ away! _ " 

He was touching Arclight- while the mech was  _ sleeping _ to boot. They weren't gonna let him get away with that. They reached out to grab the end of the brush from underneath the blankets but it was- gah! In one adrenaline-fueled movement they leapt out from underneath the covers onto Arclight's side to get hold of the brush, the energon lines in their frame flaring in an all-too-exposed rage. It was only after the initial push that they found being upright a great deal more disagreeable. Their grip on the brush slipped as a powerful ache radiated up from their pelvis area. They looked down to find two things:

First: there was nothing observably wrong with them save for

Second: they hadn't closed their panel.

In a split-klik, they decided they could use their free-swinging spike to their advantage and turned to face Meso, both pedes braced to the highest point of Arclight's side. The air was a great deal colder now but their righteous anger kept the shivers at bay. They stared at Meso, only taking a moment to kick the blankets further up Arclight's frame in case he'd forgotten to close his panel as well. Pointing an accusatory finger at Meso they shouted, "Don't you  _ touch _ him."

##  **Betta132** **03/12/2019**

Reaver's expression migrated through several rather unreadable places at this whole... everything, but mostly at Vulcan. No, doing something badly was not the same thing as doing something and then immediately destroying it, that wasn't how that worked. Primus- emotional. And he really didn't think, did he?

Sighing, he scritched around the frames against his until Vulcan started to sober up a bit, then aimed an almost-glare down at them. "Then perhaps you should consult one of the four active medics on this ship. Or all of them. You said... something about a spark in storage, yes? I assume you want to give it a frame, or some means of support. Do you have the start of a frame built?" he asked, rubbing gently along Vulcan's upper back. "Your guilt helps no one. Breathe. If time is limited, focus on the here and now, and on what we can do to help those still alive. You can be guilty later. You can think about what you can do to rectify what you have done to harm Salvo. And... you can understand that he may not accept anything from you. You will accept it, if so," he rumbled, then turned his attention to Salvo. "And you are not going to harm him again. Understandable as that was... we've had enough violence for a few species' worth of existences. Please. You never have to speak to them again if you don't want to. Though... I might suggest that you at least give them that respect. I don't hear malice in them, only... shortsightedness."

##  **Betta132** **03/12/2019**

Puppet twisted around a bit and squealed angrily at Red once more, then slumped limp against Vulcan again. Their vocalizer grew harsher and harsher, then crackled, and they made a face as they stopped singing. Ow. That happened sometimes. So, sighing, they curled up and pushed their face into Vulcan's frame in lieu of anything else. This was the best they could do. 

_.:It looks like a containment device. Given Reaver's words, and the knowledge that Puppet was a former ghost spark taken from a facility... I suspect Vulcan has another ghost spark with him. A spark can remain in containment only temporarily, so he will need a frame for that spark. Soon, I suspect. You may get to watch some of that process:. _ Forceps noted, optics narrowed slightly, watching things unfold.  _.:Patches has experience, and I have some, albeit less. Scalpel and Acus were trained as battlefield medics, so their only experience is in repair, not in construction. Helpful nonetheless:. _

.

##  **Betta132** **03/12/2019**

"No! Bad scrubbing!" Scissors scolded, and dove into the shaft, scooping Meso and his brush up. "Rude! Bad place!" 

Meso squeaked as he was tossed bodily out the door, but landed on his pedes just fine and bounced slightly in place, whiskers pricked out in mild indignation. "Being nasty! Gonna get a fuck-disease in somewhere weird," he muttered, and only moved away further when shooed by Syringe.

Syringe glanced over to where Quill was cradling one claw gingerly against their chassis, fidgeted a bit in place, and quickly gave in to the strongest urge. The one to be near his twin. He slid through the door as well and shut it behind him, one pair of arms sliding out to scoop Scissors up, and they both gathered into a heap against the wall opposite Spade. Hunching down as low as they could, trying to look small- and distinctly trying to look anywhere but at Spade directly. "Well. Naked," one of them muttered, then both spoke, a bit louder, as softly as they could manage. "Is okay. Was Quill -mean to scare!- then Meso. Rowdy. Has thing about germs, being clean. You... kind of dirty. Very dirty," they noted, and leaned their helms against each other. "Only them here. No one else went in. Safe. Dirty, but... safe," they chuckled, arms winding tightly around each other. A hug, and it made it easier to pulse gentle reassurance through their combined field. Not too hard, not enough to feel like a push, just... quiet, gentle, a reassurance that it was safe here. The best they could manage. "Is okay. Breathe. Maybe be less naked. No threat here, still just... hall for cleaning bots." 

A moment of silence, watching Arclight huff quietly in recharge, then they chuckled and stretched out along the floor. "Very sleepy. Poor bot. Maybe no threatening about murders, please? Could just... ask to leave. Or naked, probably easy to spook little bot with naked. Very easy to spook little bot. Is Quill. Always spooked."

Quill was, in fact, thoroughly spooked. Meso had already announced something about there not being a murder, but- still! That body language, menacing despite the lack of armor- those optics! What was this? Who- ow, oh, that didn't feel right, Quill decided, flexing one claw rather carefully. Ow. They'd clearly done something running into the wall, and, ouch. Limping a bit as their messed-up nerve wiring sent confused bolts of pain up their whole arm and down into the rest of their frame, they headed for the  _ right _ door as fast as they could, hoping to find a medic.

March 13, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Vulcan turned to Reaver, optics wide enough he looked almost scared, "You misunderstand, Reaver, it's built. It's almost  _ done- _ it's... I've even made a processor framework. All that's left is to finish wiring up the processor and piping in energon lines in the headcase- a matter of a couple weeks. There's only so much you can  _ do _ to modify a frame this far along." Their optics searched the room for Forceps, "Nobody has the time to wait for another frame to be made- even if not made by my servo. And if I am a fool, then I am not enough of a fool to try to move one of these sparks between frames. It  _ will not _ work." Vulcan shook their helm, "I'm stuck, now. I need  _ help, _ I do. But I am not going to let someone's ulterior motives ruin a frame. By Primus I will stand for that no longer."

"Salvo sighed and leaned back a bit, an arm around Red. "fuck, I hate making decisions about people on the spot," he grumbled then spoke up a bit, watching Vulcan, "I'm not out for energon, Reaver, don't hate anyone that much. But if he, or anyone for that matter, decides to threaten my friends it's a different fucking story." A deep sigh, "that's old news though."

Vulcan was watching intently, patting Puppet on their shoulder as they turned back around to him. He couldn't quite figure out what that meant, but didn't want to say so. The room was quiet for a moment as Salvo waited for a response until it became clear Vulcan was going to produce nothing. He let out an ambiguous  _ humph _ and looked down at Red, tapping his cheek against the side of their helm, "Do we need to go?" he murmured, "you seem worn out."

Sticks let out a long breath  _.:Worth it to maybe offer to give this frame a look-over? I wonder if Patches knows about all this, he'd be ideal- though from what I heard the day Aponogee came in, I doubt Vulcan would survive:. _ They shook their helm, what a fucking mess.  _.:Suppose the real question is whether the medical team wants to dedicate however much time to essentially babysitting or if we opt to ask for the spark to keep it until we can deal with it- something tells me that would come with a lot of crying too...:. _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Spade huffed as the door closed Meso out, "Furry prick." They spent a few kliks catching their breath again, then slowly lowered themself back off Arclight's side. They pulled the blankets up around his chassis, then limped around to lounge in the crook of his arm. It was warm there, and to their delight smelled a great deal less like the medbay, more like them. A bit of wiggling and they surveyed their view. They had a good picture of the door and both twins, this was amenable. They relaxed even more and simply stared for a moment before offering the slightest bit of explanation, "Not gonna let anyone fuck with him-or me. Figured if I played it right I could scare off... Quill without worrying about them getting any ideas. And I was right. It worked."  They frowned a bit and sighed, "mech looked hurt though. Don't feel good about that. They'll get an apology at some point. Not in the business of hurting- just scaring enough to keep people away- s'what it's been most of the time."

They leaned back a bit and shifted a servo behind their helm to gently stroke Arclight's chin while they slept. It almost felt as though he were the wall behind their back, safe. It was calming almost, they couldn't really believe it. "Not gonna leave if you're gonna try to kick me out now," they said, still watching Arclight's face, "Not gonna leave without him." A pause, they turned back to Duo, "he really is fast asleep now huh? Surprised."

##  **Betta132** **03/13/2019**

"Then you get them to look it over," Reaver hummed evenly, sliding a servo up to Vulcan's scruff, "and they can tell you if something doesn't seem right. If something is wrong, they can help you to fix it. They may be able to help you finish it more quickly. And I can assure you- none of them would do anything to harm a newbuild. I would not" a quick, fluttering surge of  _ power/conviction/warning _ "suggest them to you if I thought they would do anything. I would not abide them if they were that sort of person. I would suggest... hm. Patches is the most experienced of them, but if you insist on avoiding ulterior motives... I'm not sure Acus is capable of  _ having _ motives." 

"Mmh, you can... figure 'm out later. Want. Salvo. I-I want to go," Red whispered, shaking, and tried to get up. They were... almost laughing, though. Almost. The softest, hitching, quivering little noises. "I. I haven't. Haven't  _ yelled _ at someone in. Years. Not properly. I'm. Oh. W-we need to go, please," they declared, and clung to Salvo for support, starting to shake again. It all felt... strange, Primus. Not quite as bad as it could have been, though. They were... okay? Possibly? But they had to  _ leave now _ , please, thank you.

_.:Yes, because we should absolutely take a spark from what may as well be its carrier, against that carrier's will, when we're trying to earn that carrier's trust,:. _ Forceps snarked, and cocked his helm slightly, considering Vulcan.  _.:We can't maintain it any further. It needs a frame we can anchor it into, and once it's anchored, we shouldn't try to pry it out. It needs a frame. Where it stays in the meantime, so long as it is safe, changes nothing. We need to focus on getting it into a proper frame, not trying to take it away. Now... do you think Salvo is likely to do this again?:. _

 

A minute or two later, Patches COMMed Sticks, tone soft and vaguely concerned.  _.:Sticks, we have another patient. Quill. I'm not sure if you've met them- a very small empuratee. They aren't badly hurt, but they're rather timid. I think they might benefit from your presence, and practice healing empuratees is probably wise. This should be much less... upsetting than the previous patient you've assisted with, though. The worst they'll do is get nervous. How are you feeling? Do you think you're up to helping?:. _ he asked, guiding Quill gently to their least intimidating side room as he spoke. A smaller room with plenty of blankets, painted in darker colors so it resembled a medbay as little as possible. Quill was at his side, but was already seeming nervous- single optic wide, shaking a bit, looking rather like they would have transformed already if they didn't think it would hurt. Or bolted. Poor dear. Maybe someone closer to their size? "You'll be all right- I'm sure it's just a strain or a misalignment," he added, looking down at Quill, resisting the urge to pick them up no matter how much he wanted to. Even if they were tiny and a snuggle-able size. 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/13/2019**

"No leaving! Is fine," Duo purred, and Scissors reached out to Arclight, but gently. A slow motion, prodding lightly at the sleeping bot's shoulder. Absolutely nothing happened. "Very sleepy. Bots with no stress after massive stress tend to crash. Big crash here. Is safe," they noted, then cocked their helms in unison, looking Spade over a bit now that they were mostly covered. "Very. Very naked. Got something under armor? Poison-thing? Or... thought-thing? Have cleansers. Brushes. Want some?" 

Arclight was  _ out _ . He didn't even twitch at being poked. He did make an odd huffing noise and bundle Spade up a bit tighter, but that was it. Nothing conscious. 

After a moment of watching Arclight not do anything, the twins got antsy and sat up, servos straying over each other's frames. Tapping patterns and tracing lines, nothing in particular, here an atomic structure and there a meaningless area of patchwork lines, occasionally meeting and squeezing the other's servo. They kept all the touching well away from Spade, though, and didn't touch Arclight past the first little poke. " _ Want _ to be here? Rather be... showers? Room somewhere? Hallway is fine, but several doors. Dark. Cold. Not ideal for people. Ideal for bugs. Some. Rather be less than ideal for bugs? Rather..." a pause, a quick glance at each other, "fuzzy is too much, but not wrong. Dirty! Showers? Cleanser? Cloth?"

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Salvo was quick to pick up on Red's distress and in one fluid motion, pushed himself to his pedes and swept Red into his arms. Maybe not what the bot was intending but it'd do the job. He carefully waded around Sticks and Forceps over to the door where he threw out a quick, "Thanks Reaver," before exiting. A few steps away from the room and he slowed, gently putting Red back on their pedes. A moment after they were steady, he slowly leaned over to hug them, "I don't think I say this enough but, thank you, Red."

Sticks watched with some level of surprise as the door closed behind Salvo, mech knew how to make an exit. They turned to Vulcan, their expression somewhat unreadable. With a slow sigh they shook their helm, "You need to come at this problem when you're less emotional, Vulcan. It's a lot to take in at first, I know- believe me, I do, but you're not getting anywhere in such a state." Their field pulsed something sympathetic, "You have backup now, you've got a community and we  _ all _ want to help. Now I don't know where you came from exactly, but getting used to the notion you can ask for help is in your best interest." At this point they were parroting a lot of what Notepad had been telling them. Different context but it should be applicable here too. They paused, receiving Patches's message. Then straightened up a bit, folding their arms behind their back the most professional they could muster, "Now in my medical opinion, you need to give yourself some time."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

"But-" Vulcan complained

"An  _ hour, _ you have an hour... You  _ have _ an hour." Sticks repeated insistently, "Don't think about it. Do something else. I'll bring the topic up to Patches to see when he has time to come in and check your work- I'll talk to the rest of the medical staff about it, too. It will be done, and it's gonna be done right." With that they turned on their heel and walked to the door, "And Forceps is here right now, if you want an immediate opinion. I've been called for another patient, so I've gotta leave." They paused in the doorway and turned to face Forceps, giving them an affectionate smile before carefully signing  _ "See you later, love" _ and exiting.

Sticks commed Patches a quick  _.:On my way:. _ as they walked briskly down the hall. It didn't take long to get back to the medbay. They confirmed the room Quill was in and stood in front of the door for a moment, rearranging themself to look presentable- not a particularly difficult task this time, thank Primus. A moment of self-collection and they opened the door. When Patches had said 'very small,' Sticks had possibly expected someone their size. It was with a healthy measure of surprise that they found someone  _ even smaller _ sitting on the berth. Resisting the urge to say anything, they simply paused for a moment to take in the sight. They didn't think people even  _ did _ empurata on bots this size. They let out a long sigh and relaxed their posture a bit, poor thing.

"Hello, Quill?" Sticks said, voice soft as they stepped in. They trimmed their field to a friendly kind of calm and stood a respectful distance in front of them, "My name is Sticks, I'm a junior medic here. Do you mind if I come closer to look at what hurts?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

"Hey don't-" Spade made a shooing motion with a servo as Scissors went to touch Arclight, "Don't. You're not as bad as any of those other fools but they don't like to be touched. Just because they're asleep doesn't mean that rule goes away. Gotta watch their back..." They trailed off, looking over at their pile of armor, another examination would be needed, then, after the other three and however many times they were going to check their frame. Rubbing a few fingers over their belly they found that the transfluid and lube had dried- they really  _ were _ nasty. "Don't wanna be  _ here _ really, but I'm not gonna leave Arclight- not while he's sleeping and someone could fuck with him." They frowned for a microklik, "No, I'm not gonna let that happen..." 

They really could use a shower though, or a  _ bath _ would be even nicer- something warm to ease the aching from their overexerted hips. They considered for a bit, looking down at the stains on their frame, then finally mumbled, "wipe or something might be nice."

##  **Betta132** **03/13/2019**

Red leaned on Salvo for a moment or two, then sighed and slowly, carefully separated. A pause to listen and figure things out, and they continued, walking with only a servo on Salvo's arm for guidance and support. They could  _ walk _ , after all, without any real issues. It took some doing to get used to being unable to see where each new step would land, but the floor in here was flat and even, and they had Salvo to show them any obstacles. That helped the confidence. That, and the knowledge-from-experience that, although it was unpleasant, running into things wasn't that bad. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen, not by a long shot. Best to just... try. "Welcome," they whispered, offering Salvo a tiny smile, then brought a servo up to touch where some of the patterns were missing. "Should go back. Later. That's... really pleasant. Do you want to try? I'd... forgotten that repainting feels that good, and this... he's an especially caring one. It's... nice. Even if he looks... less than gentle. I'm sure he could do some damage with those horns."

"They're quite right. Nothing is going to happen in an hour," Reaver hummed, giving the scruff of Vulcan's neck a gentle, firm squeeze. That tended to calm people somewhat, if you were already touching them. "If that spark were going to detonate in an hour or something of the sort, I rather suspect you would be considerably more... hurried. Now, let me see if-  _ ah _ -"

Aponogee had wanted to pet Reaver in return. This ordinarily wouldn't be an issue, but they'd gripped his wings at the bases and stroked up, and their fingertips had stroked along some very sensitive seams. Reaver's optics widened and his back went ramrod straight, field prickling something rather electric. Aponogee paused, confused, then gave another, gentle squeeze, trying to sort out what was going on. Reaver wasn't in any visible  _ pain _ , but he sure was trembling a lot. "Reaver?" 

.

Quill was hunched into a little ball, optic overly wide in alarm, but relaxed just a fraction when Sticks didn't try to get close to them. "Oh. Hello. I... ran into a wall," they explained, curled up a bit, cradling their claws close as if to guard them from anything else. They didn't really know what to do here, but they did know that these were  _ medics _ , and that they were loathe to give what they had left of their servos to- mmh. That. That didn't bode well for them. But... they had to do  _ something _ . They hurt. It wasn't going to get any better. So, shivering a bit, they held out their injured limb to Sticks. One of the three stiff claws was askew, the plating at the base slightly bent, and the seam along their wrist had started to pop open.

"Quill is, for obvious reasons, nervous around medics," Patches hummed, and sat on the very edge of the berth. "I thought someone who's not quite as large compared to you might help a little," he explained to the author, and gestured to their wrist. "A numbing agent will help. I think the medic who did this to them might not  have been very good with thin plating, their seams and joints aren't in the best shape around there. And, unfortunately, empuratees are very prone to referred pain. Improperly capped nerves will do that. Now... it's best to explain what you're doing in cases like this, for your patient, but it can also help you learn. So, get a look, and explain to me what you'd do," he requested, and held a servo out to Quill, offering them support. "Here. Dig your claws into my arm plating. It's thick, you won't hurt me." 

.

Duo glanced at each other, then both popped up and dashed out the door, nearly running into it in their haste. A certain degree of clattering ensued, and when they came back, they were hauling a small cart with them. "Can move padding onto- oop-" 

Having neglected to fully consider inertia, they both skidded considerably as they tried to sit on the cart and it didn't stop moving, but they managed to sort themselves out a bit after the initial skittering. "-anyway! Cart. Can touch padding,  _ not _ mech, move to cart, go to get clean- we have oil baths! Get very clean, hide in oil from sounds, be comfy. Bot... might not mind moving? Could try to wake up, but, hm, very sleepy," they noted, both of them slumped on top of the cart. There was just enough room on it to fit Arclight, with the berth pad hanging off the edges to some degree. "Gonna  _ dry _ like that," they warned, but one took a cloth from subspace, the other a bottle of gentle solvent, and both tossed both items over. "Not as good as" their voices pitched a bit higher, almost sing-song, "ba-ath!" 

It could have been interpreted as baiting, sure. With their appearance and how they were emoting, though, it really just read as earnest. And they weren't wrong- that would have been so much nicer than just a cloth and a bottle of solvent!

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Salvo hummed slightly and smiled as he looked down at Red, "You know what, I think I do."

Vulcan startled a little bit as Reaver moved so suddenly. A klik and they figured out that panic wasn't fear per se. But what? They leaned over and back to try to figure out the cause until. Ah. They leaned further back to see exactly where Aponogee's servos were, for future reference, of course. Now how were they to explain exactly what that meant. Their optics bounced from Aponogee's servos to their face, back and forth for a few moments before they leaned over and decided how they'd go about this, "Aponogee, dear, I would move my servos if I were you," Another optic flick between the offending area and their face, "Of course you could always choose to continue doing so but Puppet and I would have to leave the room. Bah- you know what-" They leaned over further and batted Aponogee's servo's away, "Let Reaver be. You know what you're doing?" A pause, "Of course you don't. Do you know about-" Vulcan paused again to cover both of Puppet's audials, leaning forward to get closer to Aponogee, then whispered, "Sexual arousal?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Sticks kept their servos behind their back and leaned over to get a closer look instead of grabbing, no touching without explicit permission. As they surveyed, they spoke, "I'm no stranger to the effects of empurata, my best friend is an empuratee. She suffered some pretty serious nerve damage along the way," They lowered their helm a bit to get a look at the underside, "Manifested in widespread numbness, ended up destroying her limbs quite a few times." A deep sigh as they stood up straight again, "It was scary, to be honest. But she's safe now, working with Patches actually, to restore some of her lost sensors. But, right." They shifted their servos behind their back and looked into Quill's optic, "First apply some local anesthetic, of course, then... remove some plating, check under the afflicted areas for any internal bleeding or breakage. Repair any broken internal structures. After that, reshape the bent plating using... low heat, since it's thin. Whether we put it back on immediately and without padding depends on the state of the struts. I'd also need to know where exactly it hurts to determine how much plating to take off, which requires a more physical examination." 

Sticks's optics darted to Patches for a moment before they took their servos out from behind their back and held them out in front of them, palm up, still keeping a good radius around Quill's claws. Despite their time spent healing, and the repaint, up close one could still see the weld marks on their wrists, the scuffing on the plating nearest. They hadn't had to deal with servo injuries up until this point, they didn't know how they would take it, but by Primus they'd try. "May I?" They said softly.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/13/2019**

Spade reached to catch the bottle of solvent and rag, only to find the rag smacked them in the face and the solvent fell to the floor. They picked the rag up with two fingers and leaned into the light to give both sides a once over, picking off a spot of black lint-potential bug. No threats found and they reached for the solvent, keeping their optics on the twins the whole time. They opened the bottle and took a sniff -yep that sure  _ smelled _ like a cleaning product and not some sort of acid, explodable, or liquid hacking agent... if that even existed. They quickly went to sniff the rag- more of the same stuff, if it was different then they might worry about a chemical reaction. At last satisfied, they poured the solvent onto the rag and started with their face. 

Working their way down to their neck, Spade sighed and gave Duo an odd look, "You two are a trip, you know? I do appreciate you more than most, though." Moving down to their shoulders now, "Primus I've wanted a bath for millennia. Definitely not gonna do that without Arclight though. They need one even more than I do." They looked at Arclight's frame, taking a peek under the covers to see the aftermath. He was nasty too, it seemed. Another long sigh as they dumped more solvent on the rag to deal with their fingers, transforming their extra digits out all the way to be extra thorough, "Half a mind to clean him up too- is that weird?"

Another sigh and Spade looked around, switching the cloth in their servos, "Moving might be a good idea. Someplace lighter, cleaner. N if Arclight wakes up along the way I can float the idea of a bath by them, see what they think. Otherwise... I'm sticking with em."

##  **Betta132** **03/13/2019**

Aponogee blinked, their gears visibly churning a bit slowly, and looked from Reaver, to Vulcan, to- 

To Puppet, who had figured it out as well due to being pressed tight against Reaver, and was making a rather lewd gesture up at Aponogee by way of explanation. Those were all the sexy body language things! And Aponogee was touching wings. Seeker wings were sexy things to touch. 

Oh! The gears clicked, and Aponogee let go of Reaver's wings, then paused and patted at his flanks. "Sorry. I know a little. Wasn't on purpose, just... trying to pet. I'm not very good at that yet. But I do know about, uh- yeah, I know what interface is. Patches told me." 

Reaver made an odd noise approaching a groan, then shuddered and shook the prickling away, shifting to look back at Aponogee. "It's, uh- it's fine. The- the centers of my wings are a lot less sensitive, you can touch there if you want, just... not the edges. It's best not to touch the edges of wings. Most other places are fine, too, so if you want... go ahead," he offered, and stayed relatively still as Aponogee touched him again. "You're okay. It's. It's fine. Feeling better, Vulcan? Because Sticks is entirely right. Unless it's urgent, you need to put the problem down for a little while." 

Puppet wriggled a bit, then squirmed harder until they got out of Vulcan's grip, outright scaling part of Reaver's frame to get a better look at Aponogee. Big bot. Didn't know much. Were they also new?

.

Quill fidgeted slightly, then sighed and slowly extended their arm, offering it to Sticks. "I don't. Don't like needles. I... really, really don't," they whispered, antennae slicked down to their helm. "I can't, if- if you're going to- I  _ can't _ -" they began, scooting back, until they were stopped by the raised portion of the berth. Which really only emphasized how tiny they were, set up as it was to be a comfortably reclined seat for someone of average size.

"Easy, Quill, easy-" Patches purred, and set a servo behind them for support. "It's all right. If it upsets you that much, we won't use any needles with you. We can use a topical painkiller. Deep vents, Quill. It's all right. We aren't going to do anything that you don't want. We'll work with what makes you most comfortable, all right? So, Sticks... you're right. What complicates things is this; empuratee claws, like these, are often solid metal. There  _ is _ no plating to remove, not on the claw- look closely. The joint itself is broken or dislocated, I think," he sighed, and paused for a moment as Quill made a shaky little sound of dismay. "And, ordinarily, I wouldn't tell a squeamish patient all of this out loud. I'm talking because I think it's best if you know what I'm going to do, Quill. It shouldn't hurt. I know this is upsetting, but we'll fix it. And I'm inclined to see what we can do about some of those nerves. We may be able to cap some of them off a bit more nicely, make you more comfortable. Which has an added bonus of preserving them better for if and when we wind up replacing these claws. I'm guessing you want to?"

"Ohh, I want to," Quill whispered, flexing their undamaged claws, hunkered tight up against the berth. It put them against Patches' arm by consequence, and they rather liked it. "I do, I want to- to  _ write _ , but I- you'd- you'd have to- I  _ can't _ -" they squeaked, and started to shake, tucking their legs up to their frame for support. The panic wasn't doing them any good, though, so they ex-vented softly and tried to settle a fraction. Tried. "You. You know anoth. Another, who's- did- did someone- did  _ you _ -?" they asked, and gestured slightly to Sticks' wrist.

.(edited)

Duo posed in a pseudo-sexy manner at the comment, then slumped down and relaxed again, winglets up. "Several trips!" they commented, and settled in comfortably, mostly watching Arclight. "Just been...  _ something _ , yes? Probably fine to clean. Been up to..." a pause, optics narrowed, and they eyed Spade's frame for a moment. "-hm. To what? Tiny bot, not-so-tiny... creativity involved, yes? Or stretch- oof-" 

Syringe gently elbowed Scissors to stop him voicing that thought about how stretchy Spade must be to manage that, then both grinned and kept... whatever that thought was to themselves. Mostly because it was several thoughts and many of them were nudity-related. Spade was  _ naked _ ! Very naked! That made people  _ sensitive _ , there was so much they could do with this, but... they really didn't think getting near Spade was a good plan right now. Or, probably, ever. Too bad, because they were just itching to stroke that pretty little frame. Maybe not even to interface! Just... to touch. They vaguely looked like it, their servos were twitching a bit, but they didn't touch. Just... fidgeted. 

After a little while, they both edged a step or two closer, moving out of the way. "Baths, probably empty. One big for friends, one small. Small, probably empty. Go there? Lit, clean. Be in bath. Lots of scrubbing. Pick berth pad up? Just pad. No touching twitchy bot. Probably stays asleep, but... is fine. Can explain. Ah-  _ film _ ! Snaps of progress. Show transit. Less suspicious?" they mused, still doing that odd little thing where they spoke in turn, and idly pet at each other in a tappy-fidgety manner. Lots of servo motion, which was all they could do to keep the rest of them moderately still. Moderately still was probably best, even if they really, really wanted to go and touch. Anything. Everything. All of it. They just wanted to pet!

March 14, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/14/2019**

Vulcan aimed a slightly scandalized look at Puppet as the bot climbed up Reaver, "now  _ where _ did you learn that?" Well, they supposed, better some unknown source than  _ them. _ If Patches told Aponogee, it might be a good idea to talk to him about talking to Puppet. Patches seemed trustworthy enough- not some sort of wild heathen like Polaris, probably them who told Puppet, all things considered. They shook their helm thoroughly and retreated their servos, holding themself rather stiffly still as they landed in their lap. With a long sigh, they frowned and answered Reaver, "I wouldn't say it's urgent, no, but I worry every day could be his last." They paused for a moment as their face fell, "Understand he's been in stasis for a very very long time. Prewar theorists were operating under the assumption that after a certain point, a cold-kept spark  _ will not _ be able to cycle back to workable temperature, no matter how much heat or external energy you provide it. We're nearing the end of that predicted time period." They closed their mismatched optics and pinched the bridge of their nose, "And I'm... not as healthy as I used to be. Between him and me, every day gets to be more of a gamble and I am not a lucky mech."

Another long pause. Vulcan let out a deep ex-vent and continued, scratching a finger behind their audial, "Suppose it will only become urgent when it does. Until then I have all the time I need- but you're right, I need to think about something else." They glanced back at Reaver, something friendly in their optics, "I thought it would be a good idea to come here to show Puppet that painting isn't all that scary, in case they'd ever like to pursue some methods of normalizing their color. I don't suppose you'd be up for some sort of demonstration after... that whole mess."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/14/2019**

Sticks stood up a fraction, realizing they were going in circles. They held up a finger to Quill, optics flicking to Patches for a microklik, and jogged over to the cabinets to retrieve a can of spray- anesthetic. They were quick coming back, holding up the can to show to Quill, "Topical painkiller- it's gonna hiss a little loud and feel kinda cold." Brief explanation over with, they held the too-big can in both servos and angled it around the outstretched claw, aiming it at the base of the finger as well as the wrist- should be more nerves there for the anesthetic to work on, in theory. Once they were satisfied with the coverage they held their servos up where Quill could see and stood still for a brief moment before pulling themself up on the berth beside them- far enough away not to crowd. They weren't about to touch but leaned over a fraction so they could look the mech in the optic, "Let's just talk for a bit, huh? Not gonna do anything yet, not until you're ready for it. Hopefully a little less pain will help you calm down."

Sticks shifted a bit, holding the can in their lap. Their optics flicked from Quill to their servo as they held it in front of them. "To answer your question, I did get my servos replaced." They spoke softly and watched as they touched each fingertip to their thumb, "I'm not- wasn't an empuratee, so I can't exactly speak to what it'd be like for you. But I do know it's terrifying." They stilled their servo and looked over to Quill instead, "The prospect your servos will have to come  _ off _ in order for the new ones to get there. It's like... that part of you is dying and you have to accept whatever you're given. It takes a  _ great _ deal of trust- after all your old ones work well enough- you've worked with them for as long as you have, as much as you hate them." A bit of a pained smile flashed across their face. "But what I also know is that... it was worth it." Sticks looked down again and rubbed their fingertips together then slowly extended their servo in Quill's direction, holding it out for them to inspect, "The when and how might not be a conversation for now, not unless you want it to be. But we'll make it happen as soon as you're ready. Just know it's possible. I'll be here for you at every step of the way if you have any doubts."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/14/2019**

Spade paused their cleaning to consider Duo a bit, brow ridges lifting in appraisal, "Both of us with our spikes hanging out and covered in mysterious goo... I'd like to hear your  _ other _ theories as to what we got up to." A pause, "Yes, we interfaced. And. Both." They resumed their cleaning, having now gotten to their stomach. Now  _ this _ truly was a mess. They really did need something better than a rag. "I like lit," they said finally after some quiet deliberation, "You think you can lift both of us  _ and _ the berthpad? And-" A sigh, "I really don't wanna just leave him out in the open but putting someone sleeping in an oil bath seems like a bad idea. Guess we'll see when we get there." They sat up slightly, leaning back against Arclight's front, trying to recline slightly, "So that's a yes."

A moment of feigned relaxation and they sat up, bracing for the cold, "I guess I need to go get my armor then." They stood up, stretching their back, notably still having not put their spike away, then turned to look at Duo, optics tired with a glint of warning, "Don't touch anything."

##  **Betta132** **03/14/2019**

"I am willing, yes, but- hello- I don't know that there's much I could do to make this one look more coordinated," Reaver hummed, gently stroking Puppet's upper back. "It might almost look  _ stranger _ if everything was coordinated. Still- do you want me to change anything, Puppet?" he asked, and winced when Puppet hissed in his audials. "Ah. I will take that as a no. It's all right- we don't have to do anything. You are quite welcome to keep that paintjob if you like it. It is distinctive! But... if you still want an example, I'm not sure who I would work on. Puppet clearly isn't interested, and Aponogee... I'm not sure I have that color. I'm not sure that  _ is _ a color." 

Aponogee looked down at their arms, shimmering that odd, shifting, opalescent color, and shrugged slightly. "I don't know what colors are called, sorry. I'm kind of bad at the names of things. What do you- oh, hello," they laughed, and bundled Puppet up as the smaller bot slid into their lap. "There's so many colors on you! I love it." 

Puppet beeped contentedly, nuzzled against Aponogee's chassis, and then flopped into the bigger bot's lap, shoving everything of their frame into Aponogee's servos. They wanted to be petted! This big pretty bot with the warm servos and the weird shimmering color was perfect. And, hm... maybe they could hitch a ride at some point. This was a spacefarer. Puppet wanted another look at space!

.

##  **Betta132** **03/14/2019**

Quill jolted a bit at the noise, and didn't relax much as Spade spoke. Their intact set of claws clicked lightly together, and they looked down at where their servos ought to have been, their voice almost too soft to hear. "But they  _ don't _ work well enough. I don't want these. I-I can't write, I can't- can barely  _ hold _ a datapad, let alone type. I'm. I'm an  _ author _ . I don't  _ want _ these," they whimpered, and gave their arms a quick little shake. "I don't. I want them  _ off _ . But that- that would mean-  _ knives _ and- and I  _ can't _ \- I don't- I-I  _ can't _ -"

"Easy," Patches crooned, and rubbed gently against Quill's back. "It's a bit of a different situation here. Sticks had to have their servos replaced because of damage. Empuratees... tend to have a different take on things. It varies, of course, but... oftentimes, what stops an empuratee seeking repairs is fear. Fear of pain, of the recovery, of the procedure itself. Often a fear of medics in general. It can be a product of improper sedation. It's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, only to be overcome when and where we can. And I can promise you this- I have never met an empuratee who regretted reclaiming their frame. That, and I can do better than this," he sighed, gesturing slightly to the seams. "I've worked with sparklings. I've made replacement parts for sparklings, and let me tell you, that's not easy. You have to build it to allow for growth,  _ and _ the whole thing is tiny. Smaller than you. Well- mostly. I did treat a baby shuttle once who I think outweighed you," the medic chuckled, and offered Quill a little smile. "That's not a matter you need to worry about, though. For now, all we need to do is help you. Repair this damage, and... I think we'll see if we can make you more comfortable in general. If and when you're ready, but  _ only _ then, I can help you. Right now... Sticks, take a look at Quill for me, will you? I suspect the joint has been partly dislocated, but you should have a look. And, Quill... I'm going to have a quick look at your leg, just to be sure that limp was from referred pain. All right?"

Quill's shaking eased up a bit at the firm touches, and the firm grip around their ankle didn't make things any worse. That wasn't an area they had issues with, and Patches was... so gentle. Surprisingly so for a durable bot like this. They were still nervous, and that... wasn't the same thing, it really wasn't, but Sticks had tried. They could- they'd accept that. It helped that the pain was gone, but... not being able to feel their almost-servo was its own issue.

.

##  **Betta132** **03/14/2019**

"Have to touch  _ something _ ," the twins choroused, eyeing the whole situation, then shrugged and nudged the cart closer. Arclight didn't look  _ that _ heavy, it was worth a try. So they waited for Spade to step off to get his armor, then gripped the pad and lifted, hefting the whole assembly onto the cart with barely a noise of effort. They'd gotten good at moving heavy things by themselves. And, really- was it the skinny frames? What was it that threw people off so much? They were taller than a lot of people! Really! 

Arclight didn't seem to notice anything, so Duo sat next to the cart and steadfastedly resisted the urge to pet him, watching Spade's general area. They were curious! But also Spade was... extremely naked, and covered in fluids, and this all seemed very private. They weren't terribly inclined to...  _ leave _ , though. Mostly because they weren't sure if Spade was okay. It might be a good idea to offer some form of supervision, yes? Just... sit and be here. Just in case. Try to be supportive. "Get armor, then hop on cart? Can go now. Easy. Wear armor or not, is fine. Uh. Maybe wear  _ something _ around, ah" a gesture towards Spade's hips with at least three servos "general area. Very naked. Would appreciate slightly less naked for now."

March 15, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

Vulcan hummed low in consideration- they were  _ quite _ happy with their own colors, thank you, and they wouldn't ask the same of Reaver. It didn't even look much like Puppet was listening. They leaned to get a better look at what they were doing and their face softened into a smile. That was cute. They peered at Aponogee's paint for a bit, optics squinting attempting to recall how one would replicate the effect. "I imagine that is... less of a paint and more of a... matrix of silica and other crystalline minerals. Perhaps with some light pigment mixed in so it is not translucent entirely. It really is quite stunning." They looked at Aponogee's face and rephrased, "It's crystal bits that make it shimmer."

After a few moments watching Puppet, they looked back at Reaver. They leaned in and spoke quietly, "I'm not sure if Puppet quite likes the idea of change very much. Of course they wouldn't want to change their paint and I wouldn't push them to. But there are parts of their frame that do need to change at some point- for their own wellbeing. Painting is low-risk enough I think it'd be a great introduction." Suddenly an idea, they spoke a little louder now, "You don't happen to have  _ temporary _ paint, do you? I'd volunteer to become the sub-er... paint-ee."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

Sticks optics flickered for a klik, the way they did when they were hiding something. Their field drew in just the slightest bit as internally their confidence disappeared. They were so sure they could help but instead they made a fool of themself once again, except this time without helping at all- probably even making Quill feel  _ worse _ . Stupid. They drew their servo back slowly and tried to recall what apology framework they'd settled on after the Arclight incident. There was, at least, time for this now when it could still be relevant. 

"Ah," their voice came out a bit of an anxious squeak, "I'm sorry?- No that's not a question. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed I knew anything... -ab-about what you're going through." Was that good? They didn't know, by now any resolutions they'd made had disappeared beneath an anxious haze. Now was not the time to fall back. They could dissect what went wrong  _ later. _ There was a patient in front of them who was still scared and hurt and they were going to help. They were going to  _ help. _

"I'm going to  _ help. _ " Sticks murmured under their breath before they could catch themself. A deep breath and their optics focused on Quill again, "M-may be a good idea to watch what we're doing? And," another deep breath, "please don't hesitate to tell me or move away or smack me if something I'm doing is scaring you or-or bothering you. I  _ promise _ that's the last thing I want to do. And it will get me to stop."

Sticks's gaze traveled back to Quill's injured claw. Oh so carefully, they extended their servo to cradle Quill's wrist, palm open in case they needed to retreat, and gently lifted and angled it closer to get a better look. Something seemed to claw at their stomach as they saw the damage. It wasn't hanging off per se but the connection was bent, the base of the claw protruding out one side. They couldn't quite hide their reaction this time and visibly flinched. They leaned back a bit faster and released Quill's wrist. Another deep breath and they relayed what they saw to Patches, "Partial dislocation definitely, connector pieces bent." They realized they were instinctively massaging the backs of their servos and pulled away enough to simply fidget instead.  _.:Temporary removal seems necessary to adjust the bent joints. I don't want to say anything to them yet, though:. _ They commed Patches then closed their optics and added,  _.:I thought I might be okay but... I need to take a backseat to this one. I'm sorry. I'll try to watch but I can't promise anything:. _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

Spade turned around, they'd picked up the bottom-most armor piece, likely the safest, "Oh does it  _ bother _ you-" They began then stopped abruptly and sighed. The ache in their hips wasn't going away any time soon and the twins were being nice- they'd respected all their boundaries, which was more than they could say for a lot of people at this point. They couldn't justify their derision. They shook their helm, "You know what, scratch that," and turned around to prod their spike until it could be suitably covered by their codpiece. If they didn't think about it too much they could withstand the increased crawling feeling near their equipment. They'd examine it later. It was going to be fine.

It took a few trips to get all of their armor pieces onto the cart next to Arclight, but eventually they did. While they couldn't say for certain how awake they were  _ before _ putting the final piece down, they were definitely awake now. Buzzing slightly, they climbed back to Arclight's arms, pulling enough of the blanket to cover their lap. They leaned back to quickly look at the mech's face, still asleep?

##  **Betta132** **03/15/2019**

"It's smooth. There must be some sort of layer over the top," Reaver observed, eyeing Aponogee for a moment. "I've worked with embedded materials a few times, but most of the people I've worked with in the past weren't the type for... glitter. Except one of the people who taught the younglings. He liked glitter on his horns. It was... certainly a look. I almost... wonder... hm," he muttered, and gently borrowed Aponogee's arm. "Some of this might be a texture of the surface layer itself. It's a lovely effect. And- yes! I do have some temporary paints. They wash off easily enough, but hold fairly well for anything short of that. It's bio-incompatible, so the frame won't try to integrate the pigment," he explained, and shifted around to get to his cabinet again. "I have fewer colors, but... ah. Silver?" he offered, and held up a small can of a shimmering, metallic silver paint, offering it for Vulcan to inspect. "Should manage to not clash, at least. Puppet, would you- ah, you're busy." 

Puppet was, in fact, busy. Mostly with holding onto Aponogee's helm, watching their optics, trying to focus their own optics well enough to figure out what that color was. This whole bot was some sort of indefinable color! Several of them! Though it might not help that Puppet couldn't quite get their optics to figure out colors quite this close up. Regular colors were closer. This was just... some kind of... something. Helm cocked, Puppet tapped curiously at Aponogee's arms, and only turned away when Reaver made a click-click noise at them. Hm? Yes? 

.

"No, no, it's-" Quill began, raising their intact claw, their voice rather mimicking Sticks' in tone. "It's fine! You- you tried, thank you, I-I really do appreciate the- you- you tried! That's- I-I can appreciate that," they squeaked, and only looked vaguely more nervous when Sticks pulled away. Optic wide, they looked up to Patches again, looking for reassurance.

Patches, as usual, gave it. "You're all right. It's not bad, Sticks just has a bit of a thing about servo damage. Sticks, how about you sit next to them? Try to be reassuring. Talk about, I don't know- figure something out to talk about, I'm going to work on this," he hummed, and, slowly, gently, took Quill's wrist in one servo. 

Ah, this was unfortunate. Patches winced the slightest bit, then sighed, and spoke as softly as he could. "Quill, I'm afraid I'm going to have to remove this one claw momentarily in order to fix this," he explained, and didn't hold on at all when Quill flinched back. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I know. The best I can do is promise that it won't hurt, and that you don't have to watch. Okay, sweetie? I'm really sorry about this, but it's not going to get any better on its own. Don't- don't look at it, all right? All you'll do is upset yourself. Just look at Sticks. Hm, Sticks, I've been meaning to ask for Crucible- how does the ship work for minibots? We're trying to make things work for everyone, but there's only so much I can check for myself, and Acus isn't quite small enough to assess all of it."

_.:Please don't watch, if just this is a problem then watching will be worse. Relax. Just focus on calming them, if you can. If you need to leave, let me know, I can figure something else out. But they need something to focus on that's not the medic taking their servo apart, and most of the other people I could bring to help would crowd them too much. Twitch is small, but he's not exactly... calming, is he? Tempo, Longrange, Sharpshot, none of them are a very good personality for this sort of thing, I don't think:. _

.

Arclight was definitely still asleep, and both twins leaned over to contemplate that fact for a moment before shrugging and beginning to move the cart. Slow at first, then a bit faster, trying not to rattle anyone too badly. The floor of maintenance hallways wasn't exactly kept perfectly smooth. 

Most of the recreation areas on the ship were relatively close together, so the oil baths weren't too far, and it would have been some kind of fool who didn't connect one's maintenance tunnels to one's oil baths. That meant it wasn't too long before they came out into a small, drip-dry room with a drain in the floor. From there, it was into a small room, with a bath large enough for a couple of medium-sized people. Which meant it was great for minibots. The edge of the bath was raised up to about minibot-knee-height, then it was set down into the floor. It was only warm, but Duo activated the controls and set the heating elements on, then the circulating pumps inside, then made something of a show of occupying the corner and not facing anyone. "Fine for naked now."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

"Oh excellent," Vulcan said, grabbing the can and swirling it around to disturb the pigment that settled to the bottom, "The shimmer in silvers work the same way, larger shards of bright metals catch the light, just not refract it." They were caught in the way the paint sparkled, and began to ramble, "Of course there are different matrixes that can make your shimmer brighter or dimmer. A high-gloss matrix, for example, might bring out more of the reflective effect. Add some zircon dust and you can achieve some of that color shifting effect-holographic, it's brilliant to look at but usually too gaudy to have on large areas... of the... frame." Their optics broke away finally and they looked sheepishly at Reaver, "Suppose you know that already." 

Vulcan at last looked over at Puppet and Aponogee, "Puppet-dear-" they frowned a bit, it was generally rude to grab someone's face, but, they supposed, Aponogee would probably have reacted by now if it bothered them. They waved away their concern and instead held up the paint, "Would you like to see what it's like to be painted? It's temporary- you can wash it off. Or you could," they tilted their helm, "try it on me? Aponogee you are of course welcome to as well. Reaver can show you how it's done, how does that sound?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

Sticks took another deep breath and nodded. They had doubts they would be able to truly calm Quill down- especially when they couldn't find their  _ own _ calm. They shifted around to Quill's non-injured side and sat a good deal closer, shoulder just about touching the other's. They focused on the servos in their lap, quickly tapping each finger to their thumb now, careful not to catch what Patches was doing in their periphery. They craned their neck down so as to talk quietly to Quill, "Know that if you want to grab someone I'm more than willing. I wish I could be calmer for you but I'm... a little wound up." 

Sticks gave the author a sad smile then straightened back up again and addressed Patches's question, "Formally I'd say fine, but informally, I'm more than a little fucking tired of jumping to get the 'short' set of controls. Spade was working on a bit of code that would allow for touch-less access via a comm command- ran into the roadblock that not all doors are linked to the ship's main systems- only the important ones," they grimaced, "Primus knows when they'll finish now." A pause, they still hadn't spoken to Spade since they'd been admitted, still hadn't been told why they were there. They shook their helm, "Anyway, bottom line is I'm climbing much more than I'd like." They angled their helm in Quill's direction, "sure it's even worse for you."

Sticks squinted as something clicked in their mind, a memory from long before the war, a datapad they couldn't put down for a week, the aching longing to touch a sweetness that profound. That was- that was  _ a _ Quill, wasn't it? Is it... is it possible? They cleared their throat, "Maybe this is a silly question-or, maybe it's ignorant, I dunno- But you're an author? You didn't happen to write... r-romance novels?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/15/2019**

Spade let out a quiet gasp at the bath from tucked between Arclight's arms. Their optics went wide. It looked... very inviting. Sure it could be an acid bath, or have some other corrosive in it but they'd never forget the feeling of dipping in all those millennia ago. They turned around to look at Arclight, almost disappointed, "Come on mech you don't wanna miss this." They said halfheartedly, they knew he wasn't about to just wake up after having been lifted and sat down and jostled down the hallway. They didn't like leaving him though. The reality didn't change, however, they needed to get clean. 

Reluctantly Spade unearthed themself from beneath the blankets and made their way toward the bath. Torn on whether or not to move backwards to keep an optic on Arclight or to watch out where they were going, they settled on looking back to the mech after every few steps until they not-so-tentatively stepped into the oil. 

To their continual surprise, it didn't hurt- no corrosives, and it was clear enough to see to the bottom. Still, they made a trip around the perimeter, servo on the floor, checking for devices- nothing except the pump, and their hips were really beginning to complain so they at last sat down, turned so they could carefully watch Arclight's sleeping frame. A quick pause to open their panel and check their equipment for anything new or scary-another negative- and they spoke, "You just gonna keep standing there Duo? I don't know if both of you'll fit but you should come in- makin' me feel weird."

##  **Betta132** **03/15/2019**

"I do. I've worked with paintings, as in inanimate objects, and the freedom to play with materials is" a pause, reaching to grab a couple of brushes, "quite nice. You don't have to worry at all about frame integration, only what will hold up on its own," Reaver contributed, and handed Puppet and Aponogee each a brush. "Here. Have at it. The paint is temporary, you can... more or less do whatever you'd like. No need to worry about patterns. Dip the tip of the brush into the paint, then... try."

Puppet considered the brush for a moment, then dipped it as suggested and moved to better reach Vulcan. Curious, they stroked it up Vulcan's arm in a rather squiggly line, then up and around, a spiral around their elbow. Not the cleanest lines, but they were curious now. This made the colors change. Interesting! 

Aponogee took the other brush, but didn't do anything with it, only held it and lightly stroked the bristles. "I can't see color differences very well up close. I'm good with lights. I can see a lot of lights that other people can't see very well. But I"m not very good up close. Patches says I probably need glasses, but he... wants to see if my optics adjust more. I'm not sure if I hope they do. I like to be able to see a long way." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/15/2019**

Quill hesitated for a moment, but, remembering the padding, slowly reached to grip Sticks' arm. They had silicone pads on their claws now, little grippy things, and it made it much easier to grasp without damaging anything. When the resistance increased as the initial squish of the padding was overcome, it was time to stop squeezing. "Thank you. I, uh... I have a-a mirror, on a pole, and a stick. I'm pretty good at getting buttons with those now. Also, people here are... are polite, really. A lot of things are large, though," they sighed, antennae pricking slightly. "I, uh. Used to live in a portion of a little city that- well, there- there were a lot of minibots. Everything was a lot smaller than other places. I can't climb very well any more, though, no- no servos, y'know?" 

And then Sticks asked that one particular question, and oh  _ no _ . Quill's antennae flickered and lowered in embarrassment, but their field pulsed something almost warm in response. Oh! Primus, it was an awkward thing, being recognized, but it was someone else who'd read their work. They did like that. "I. Oh, goodness. That... that was me, yes, and- and as far as I'm aware, no one else by the name wrote... ah... my sort of work. Which, ah- did- did you read my... an-any of my- goodness," they giggled, field colored around the edges with a quiet blush-sensation. They never knew what to do with someone who had read the  _ saucier _ books! 

.

Duo fidgeted a bit, uncertain, and bounced the idea back and forth between each other. Spade had- they weren't sure, but Spade had done  _ something _ earlier, was  _ something _ now, and it- Primus, there was a lot of potential for... oh, they really weren't qualified for any of this! But they didn't entirely feel comfortable leaving Spade alone, and they were functionally alone at this point with Arclight asleep, so... much as they didn't want to interrupt any, they elected to stay. Humming, the twins slid into the bath on the other side, facing slightly away from Spade so as not to share. Wriggling slightly as the warmth sunk under their plating, they slid lower until they were just about submerged, field crackling out to purr pleasantly at Spade. Even if it was a bit garbled thanks to the oil. They were more than content here! A bit wiggly, lots of petting at each other, servos sliding under the edges of plating to pet and rub and clean away traces of flavoring dust, but they were content. Everything was safe. 

Then, hm. A quick glance over at Arclight, and they straightened up a bit, optics flicking between him and Spade. "Shame to not be in bath. Is room. Will try- no touching! Just-" a pause, and Scissors lifted a servo, flicking oil droplets to land on Arclight's face. Not touching! 

Arclight didn't move for the first or second flick of oil, but the third did the trick, Twitching a bit, he furrowed his brow, muttered "Heft, fuckit, take y' dick away, them ain't the fun parts," and turned over. Their field stirred and spread out further, purring the dazed beginnings of consciousness, but they didn't fully wake. They were probably closer, though.

March 16, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/16/2019**

Vulcan smiled as their field radiated something greatly pleased, "Yes, dear, that's the idea." They leaned over to sort through the brushes still sitting in the solvent until they found the detail brush Reaver had used earlier. They brought it up to their optics to check for any paint residue, dipped it back in, to make sure it was fully clean and then dried it with a practiced flick of their finger. "Now Aponogee, there's no harm in trying -it's temporary after all. I can respect if you'd like to wait until your optics adjust to get the full experience, however." They seemed genuinely relaxed, now, in their element. "Let's see if I remember how to do this," they said, dipping the brush in the paint, "It has been a long time." 

Vulcan took the loaded brush between their fingers and, after searching for a spare plate on one of their larger arms, carefully began a swirling line. After a few strokes, they angled their arm down to show the group- anyone who wanted to watch- what they were doing. Little by little a pattern appeared -strange, organic-looking flowers and entangled vines, all accented with decorative dots. After a couple minutes they pulled away. The design wasn't exactly symmetrical- too much time had passed but it was still somewhat striking. They nodded, halfway pleased with themself, "One of my clients wanted this design and slight variations on almost every plate one of his alternate frames for his cojunx ceremony. It's my closest claim to anything truly artistic with paint." They smiled and eyed Puppet, "Normally one would paint large parts of the frame, this is just detailing, very low impact. Would you like some fancy detailing like this?" their optics bounced up to Aponogee, "I'll detail your plates too, if you think you'd like that."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/16/2019**

Sticks's optics brightened considerably as their field gave a giddy flutter, "Un _ be _ lievable! I- wow." They let out a gentle laugh and looked back down at their lap, "I can't tell you how many times I reread The Knowledge of You. Please picture a young and  _ very _ lonely archivist sitting there waiting for their Roller. For a solid  _ week _ after I'd finished it for the first time, I'm pretty sure all the messenger-bots thought I was funny in the head." They laughed slightly and then something bittersweet touched their optics, "It gave me hope for myself. I read a lot of romance back when it was available- some kind of escape from reality. None of em ever have archivists in the main romance. And Stacks wasn't- he wasn't the smart-aft kinda archivist you'd see in other works. He was fallible! It was refreshing- it meant a lot to me, so... thank you. I'm glad I get to finally meet you in person."

Sticks's face clouded over a bit more, they were fidgeting with their servos, "I even sent you a pen- and a letter. I was a little disappointed I never got an answer back until word got out you disappeared." They reached over with a servo and gently pet Quill's forearm, staying away from their claw, "I'm sorry." Their voice came out barely a whisper. No wonder Quill was so caught up about their claws. 

A moment of silence and a small smile placed itself on Sticks's face, "But you're here now. You're  _ alive, _ better than most of the population. So, if I may..." Sticks paused for a breath, "It was a really long time ago I sent that letter but I've always wondered, the way you write love seems to be  from a perspective of someone who... knows, you know? Did you... ever find a partner? A Roller to your Stacks?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/16/2019**

"He's- you almost got him!" Spade said, snorting, "and who's  _ Heft. _ " Their optics flicked from the twins to Arclight for a moment before they decided to hop out again, belatedly covering their spike with a servo. "Alright let me see what I can do," they said as they waddled around to his other side. Their whole frame dripped and they hadn't done much to actually clean themself up but this was more important. But what to do? They stood, servos on hips, surveying Arclight. There was the rude approach or the nice approach. As soon as they looked down at Arclight's face, they made up their mind. 

Kneeling down enough so their face was level with Arclight's, they extended a servo to gently pet them down their jaw, the way they'd seemed to like before. Their servo was still wet from the bath and oil dripped from their fingers down his chin. Their optics were softer than usual, their expression just barely hinting at a smile. "Hey Arclight. Get up, buddy, there's oil baths," they leaned in closer to their audial, speaking quiet enough so Duo couldn't hear, "And the cute twins are here, might get a smooch if you're lucky." 

Nice approach it was. If this didn't work, the rude approach would have to do.

##  **Betta132** **03/16/2019**

Puppet contemplated the paint for a moment, watching how it traced over Vulcan's arm, but made a dissatisfied noise at the idea of being painted. No. They still didn't want to be... what was it that was the problem? Puppet blinked a few times, looking the situation over, then shook their helm again. No. They didn't want to be...  _ changed _ , that was the thought, they didn't want the change. Their frame was changing on its own, already. They didn't want anyone to make it worse. They really didn't even want  _ this _ , temporary or not. This was their frame, and they didn't want anyone else to do anything with it.

Aponogee, though, got curious. Shifting around, they put an arm out where Vulcan could reach, leaning their helm back slightly to get a look at the paint. "Sure. I don't mind, I guess. Seems... nice. You can do... a lot of things, though, I think. I don't know what I like, so... you can do... just about anything right now. That way I can figure out what I like," they explained, then glanced down at the smaller bot currently halfway in their lap. "And I like Puppet." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/16/2019**

Oh, phew, not someone who wanted to discuss some of their other works. Quill's antennae perked, and their field pulsed something shimmery and thrilled, at least for a moment. "Thank you, that was... one of my favorites to work on, actually. Not based on experience, though, unfortunately for me. More of a" a slight pause, optic squinting in mild embarrassment, "a dream, really. I mean... there were relationships, of course. But they have something rare. And..." a pause, their antennae lowering slightly, and they leaned against Sticks a fraction more. "There were... a few letters I never got a chance to answer. I... I lost- they  _ took _ most of the information they could find, when I was... arrested, but I still have the pens. I just... well," they sighed, and clicked their clawtips together softly. "But I have them. And I'm... I am glad to be alive."

Very deliberately not looking at where Patches was doing something, they thought for a little while, then sighed and spoke in a soft, fond tone. "I... I did meet someone. Not quite the sort I wrote, though. I used to take my work to the best place I could think of to get feedback without anyone telling anyone else. There was a... they tended to call it a 'closet'. Lodgings for the local construction mechs. Rowdy bots, and loud, but... sweet. And I did meet someone. I-I may have been a little... oh, I regret it now, but I think I might have been too cautious. Mostly I didn't really know how to go about... any kind of  _ personal _ interaction with a bot who- you- you have to understand," they chuckled, antennae crooking slightly, "I barely came up to his  _ knee _ . He was... he was fascinated with me, I think. But the poor dear couldn't read, had never been taught. Didn't even have optics that would let him  _ see _ letters on a data-pad. None of the construction bots could. I thought that was atrocious- I-I get that they didn't exactly have much call for reading as part of their jobs, but I thought... I thought they should at least have a chance at the information. I... really didn't think it would have been taken so  _ badly _ , but," they whispered, antennae lowering, "I think I understand now. There's a lot of power in the ability to access information, isn't there?"

Looking even smaller, they tucked up against Sticks' side for reassurance, that fond little undernote slipping back into their field. "Oh. I tried, though. Do you- Primus, I-I assume he's- he must be dead now, but he was so damn sweet, if... completely uninformed about how to flirt. He- he asked me if- if I would bring someone else's work to read, once, and I-I didn't- oh, I was happy to, but- but one of his friends had to tell me that it was- oh, he was trying to get at ideas for something I'd like that weren't  _ my _ ideas," Quill giggled, then blinked up at Spade. "Goodness. I'm sorry, I-I doubt you were expecting me to just- just spill my emotions all over you. You should- should probably- I don't know if you have anyone in mind, but please, don't- don't let not being sure how to kiss them get in the way!"

.

Duo grinned at each other, thoroughly pleased with Spade's distinct calm, and slipped below the surface of the oil. It was deep enough that they fit completely underneath, and it felt nice! Especially when they leaned their audials near some of the jets. Almost like a massage. Wait, no- that particular bit of sensory input  _ was _ a massage, thank you wandering servos.

Arclight grumbled a bit and stirred, then rolled onto his back and spread his legs a bit, not quite opening his optics yet. "Mmh, fine, but you  _ better _ lick me out first, if you strain somethin' again I am gonna... wait, fuck, you're dead," he announced to the air, and opened his optics slightly. "...ah. You are def'nitely not Heft. Too short. Who's... what's that 'bout- ah, hey, how'd you- what the fuck kinda sneaky construction is this," he asked the air, having evidently just noticed that the entire place looked different. "You invent a damn silent jackhammer? Oughta jus'... market it as a vibrator for real... real big, seriously, though, th' fuck?"(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **03/16/2019**

Vulcan sighed a bit at Puppet's denial. They supposed this was better than the alternative. If Puppet hated their frame it would have made everything much more difficult, both theoretically and emotionally. They could be happy for the bot's contentment at least while their priority was finishing the final ghost spark's frame. Still, he dreaded the day he would need to convince them to see what he could do about their limbs and joints- let alone the instability of their spark. They weren't about to push the subject and turned to Aponogee, their field colored a gentle kind of friendliness, "I would be happy to help you find what you don't like, dear."

Cradling Aponogee's wrist in their servo, they leaned over, switching one of their magnifying lenses to get an up-close look at the paint. They hummed inquisitively, "Just as fascinating up close. You don't happen to know if you have additional light-catching sensors on the exteriors of your plates do you? That would account for the translucency and perhaps some of the refraction." They tilted their helm around to see how the paint changed in the light, "of course it wouldn't work nearly as well as your sails, but I suppose if one was to go... as far as they went, it would be a small step. Regardless..." They dipped their brush in the paint again and set to work on one of their arm plates, first drawing a tasteful outline around the perimeter and then adding triangular, geometric accents around the corners. Their entire demeanor seemed to shift to concentrate, their optics not moving from their work the entire time. When they were done they leaned back a bit to survey what they'd done, their face somewhat unreadable, "So, what do you think?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/16/2019**

Sticks's face had an incredibly warm pallor to it, optics soft as they looked back at Quill, "Oh don't apologize, Quill, feelings are- they're important. I mean, I read  _ romance novels _ in my spare time, you think I'm going to be annoyed by hearing about emotions? I  _ love _ love," they turned away slightly, looking back at their lap, having seen the movement of Patches's arms, "Your construction bot sounds incredibly sweet. Certainly would make an unusual pair but that's... that just makes your shared affection all the more beautiful." Their optics seemed to glaze over slightly, "regardless of how it ended, it's still important to celebrate the fondness in those memories- try to hold onto it for as long as you can, there's a whole lot less love in the universe now than there was." They sighed and looked back at Quill, "that's not to say, of course, you can't find that again. I feel like I say this to everyone I meet but... you have time now. You might not find anything like what you had before, it might not be immediate, but the chance will come again. And now you know you should take it when you can."

Sticks's field was shining something incredibly sappy. They didn't seem to realize just how much their romance-reading habit affected them and perhaps they never would. They gently leaned back into Quill and put their servo on their other shoulder, pulling them into a soft side-hug. They laughed a bit, "Guess I should follow that up with the announcement that this ship is absolutely chock full of lonely sparks if you look close enough. You've got a higher rate of not finding someone nasty, too, should you decide to chase a fancy. Or- maybe that's... not exactly what you'd want to here from... someone like me." They added as they remembered it probably wasn't a good idea for a medic to be giving dating advice. They decided now was about time to check in with Patches, *.:I'm... not looking, how is it going? Please tell me there wasn't more breakage underneath everything, poor thing."

.

Spade's face broke into a bit of a grin, "Silent jackhammer, it took years but we entirely reformatted the ship to be around you. Maintenance shaft is now an oil bath- that's a lie." They shifted their posture a bit, servo on hip, "The twins picked up the berthpad and put the whole thing on a cart and wheeled us here -here as in an actual working oil bath. One of them did poke you while you were asleep, and this little fuzzy aft with a brush tried to scrub you a bit but not a whole lot. I made sure to keep em all away from you." Their optics flicked back to the bath and they frowned a bit as they couldn't spot Duo, "Anyway It's warm and you should come in, I checked the thing for traps and the oil is oil and not some kind of corrosive. As far as I know it's not gonna hurt anything-" they tapped their chin with a finger, "unless it's got some sort of slow-acting infectious agent or poison but the twins got in there so if someone put something in there it's likely not them." They squinted even more but let up and looked back at Arclight, "I'm inclined to trust it. Anyway I rest my case. You should get up and get in it's good and both of us are disgusting."

##  **Betta132** **03/16/2019**

"I didn't understand most of what he said, and I don't remember it anyway, sorry," Aponogee sighed, and kept still to watch Vulcan work. "I know some about how I work, but not too much. I'd tell you if I knew, though. You seem nice." 

When he was finished, they tilted their helm and examined everything for a moment or two, then offered Vulcan a soft, gentle little smile. "I like it. What I can see of it. And it feels... really nice to do. It's like petting. I definitely like this," they purred, and, slowly, held the brush in their servo out. "I want to try. With you, please?" they ventured, and, moving slowly, took his arm in one servo. It was a little awkward, they simply hadn't been designed for such small motions and great precision, but they gave it a try. Small, slow, careful strokes of the brush, little touches, following the edges of plating halfway by touch. That was all they could think to do, to follow every edge they could find. It made everything stand out nicely to their optics, at least, to where they could see the shapes of things. And, hopefully, that felt nice. Right?" 

Muttering "pardon me, excuse me," Reaver got loose of the rest and stood up, stretching, wings fluttering lightly in the air. "There we are. You can sort that out amongst each other.  _ I _ need to be un-confined for a little while. Much as I appreciate the attention and the contact, some of you are heavy." 

.

"Things are going as well as can be hoped," Patches hummed, having rested Quill's servo on their thigh, and lifted the damaged claw away. "You definitely shouldn't look now, Quill. Nothing's damaged badly, but if you look now, it's just going to make you nervous. You're all right. Deep vents, hm? You just keep talking with Sticks, this is all delightfully sweet and I find myself charmed. If you're fond of construction mechs, Bracer was construction-adjacent, and he's about the largest bot on the ship. Avalon might beat him for that title if you count in the armor, or- I haven't weighed Bowline. Do be careful around Doom, though. He won't hurt you on purpose, but he's not what you'd call graceful."

"Oh, I've- I've met Doom," Quill contributed, wincing a bit. "He tried to pick me up, and it only didn't work because he missed. I'm sure he doesn't mean anything, but... he's... he's so  _ much _ ," they sighed, claws flexing, and abruptly tensed up. Something about the weight didn't feel right, and they shifted their arm slightly, rocking their wrist, then made a shaky, nauseous sound when they figured that sensation out. They were missing a piece. It was  _ gone _ . It was supposed to be like this, it was, this was fine, they just- they had to fix things, then it would be all right, or- or as all right as it could be, with the- 

A longer whine drew itself from their throat, and they hid their face in Sticks' throat, quivering all over and grasping instinctively for anything like support. It didn't hurt, but they could feel the weight, could feel the shifts in their arm as Patches worked, could- oh, Primus,  this- too much, too  _ much _ \- 

"I know, sweetie. Easy. Sticks- maybe try holding them?" Patches suggested, stroking Quill's back momentarily, but didn't stop his work. Best thing to do here was get this over with as quickly as he could. 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/16/2019**

"Ugh, we  _ are _ ," Arclight agreed, and slid off the berth pad, not really bothering to stand up. Pausing for a moment, he eyed the oil with what looked like drowsy curiosity, and dipped a servo in to test the temperature. "Huh. Yeah. That's... looks like oil, all right. Ain't seen one of these since, heh- real early on, when things all went to slag but before things all got fucked up, group 'a bots and I stole one of those... th' big, fancy baths for th' nobles.  _ Fuck _ that was nice. Think all those got blown up, though, bet they burn like Pit. Think that's them in there?" he muttered, gesturing slightly to Duo, then shrugged and just. Slid right into the bath. 

Duo had surfaced slightly, just in time to hear Arclight  _ moan _ like something out of a porn vid, and they both blushed furiously as they vanished again. Their shapes were vaguely visible under the oil, and they definitely didn't show any signs of coming back up. Oh dear! That was a noise. 

"Mmh, fuck," Arclight groaned, arching their back and stretching, and slumped down into the tub. "Priiimus tha's good. Nngh. You. You get in here, gonna... gotta be sore, yeah? Lemme" they muttered, and made vague grabbing noises in Spade's direction.

"Ah, flyer instinct kicking in, I see?" Vulcan said, shifting around to get a little closer to Aponogee so they had access to his arm, "I would wonder what flyers do during long spaceflights- hardly enough room to fly." He turned back to Aponogee and leaned over to inspect their work, a smile breaking across his face, "Very good for your first time painting -especially considering your difficulties with sight." He kept his arm still in case the bot wanted to add anything else, "It's a classic look, the simple outline, and can be put to great use if one is careful about contrast- and particularly lighting." They reached forward to lean their weight on the seat, "Under ultraviolet light, you'll find certain pigments will glow very bright colors. That is, I think, where the outline shows its true strength. It's a bold look." They watched Aponogee's servo for a bit, trained optics analyzing what they saw, "The technique is, however, pretty unforgiving. Because so often the edges of plates are very straight, it's easy to see when a line is not perfectly parallel." they pointed to a part of linework now drying, "Here you see, too, the overlap between two strokes. And here-" they pointed a little farther down to a part of a line that seemed to have a bit of a bump in it, "if you pause your brush whilst in the middle of a stroke you'll get these little imperfections. But they only really matter up close, for most views one can't tell the difference between perfection and imperfection." 

Vulcan lay down a bit, a contented look passing over their face, as they rested their chin in the crook of an arm, "My, it's been a while since I've been painted. You're much more gentle than some of the professionals I've seen."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/18/2019**

Sticks's field pinged something sympathetic as they slowly wrapped their arms around Quill, gently nudging them into their lap. This unfortunately put them facing Patches and they quickly closed their optics in response, craning their neck to cover Quill's helm. Their grip was loose enough so if Quill needed to they could wiggle free but firm enough to make their presence known. It was unusual to be in this position, but they knew what they liked when they were the small one being held. Petting what they could reach of the bot's back, Sticks spoke quietly, "You're doing so well Quill, it's alright, deep vents." They took a few deep vents themself, "You were very brave to come here. I wanna thank you for trusting us. It's gonna be okay."

Sticks shifted a bit to lean their helm a little further over Quill's. Another deep breath and they tried to project that same calm Patches always seemed to have in his field. "In my opinion you should reward yourself after something so stressful," Sticks said matter-of-factly, "And don't think you don't deserve it, you walked in here. Let's talk about that, hmm? Patches has candy- even candy for people with no mouths, there's drinks at the bar, movies in the soft room, plenty of people to cuddle if you want contact. You don't have to tell me if it'd make you uncomfortable but I can point you in the right direction if you do. But, let's see if we can make a plan so you can reward yourself, hmm?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/18/2019**

"Looks like you scared em away," Spade said, waddling back over to the bath with an amused smirk plastered over their face, "I would say sorry for waking you up except I'm not sorry, it was a fucking great idea. Wasn't gonna let you miss this." They slowly eased themself in the warm oil, sitting down next to Arclight, letting themself relax most of the way at last. They kept their optics on the spot where they could just barely see the outline of the twins and brought their knees to their chassis for good measure. As the warmth seeped in, they began to really feel the strain on their frame from earlier. A shudder and they set to massaging their stomach cables, slipping a servo between them to very carefully try to release whatever Arclight had had on their fingers at the time. Their field colored something very restrained as they kept themself from really feeling it- as much as they hated themself and loved making other people uncomfortable, there was a line. 

It took a minute to clean up but at that moment Spade was satisfied. They sunk lower under the oil, enough so that it came up to their audials. Slowly, carefully they extended their wing arms, fanning their rotor blades so even the damaged ends could feel a resurrecting ache. They leaned into Arclight's side, "Sore as all pit. And who's Heft? Seems like a fun guy. Y'kept saying his name."

##  **Betta132** **03/18/2019**

Aponogee didn't particularly look like they'd understood that. The words, sure, they got most of those. They weren't sure about some of them, though, or about what they meant in that order. Did they want to ask? No, no, probably... probably not. Vulcan kept saying things they didn't fully understand, in ways that... probably made sense to other people? Maybe? But none of it made things any clearer for Aponogee, so they didn't bother to ask. They just listened, watched what Vulcan was pointing at, and twirled the brush lightly in their fingertips. 

A small amount of it clicked, at least. "You like this," Aponogee murmured, very softly, as if a little uncertain, and slowly reached for Vulcan's frame. Optics dim in concentration, they traced the brush slowly up Vulcan's arm, following the seams again, occasionally venturing out across the plating when it seemed reasonable. They did have a fairly good optic for the spacing of things, it seemed, even if they couldn't keep the lines all that straight. Or  _ see _ whether or not the lines were straight, which didn't help any.

"Well,  _ Tempo _ is a very small bot who can fly around the hold if he wants to move somewhat, but mostly we try to land frequently enough to let everyone move around some. Trying to fly on a world with an unusually thick atmosphere can be a great deal of fun, I can tell you that much," Reaver commented, arching his back and fluttering his wings again, then relaxed and slumped into the other armchair in the room. "Ah. We are, I believe, due for a stopover. Which brings up the question, as usual, of whether or not we try for an inhabited world. Inhabited worlds run the risk of people not liking us, but Patches seems to be rather cute by organic standards, which helps a great deal. And, if we can find someone who can at least tolerate us, organic societies are interesting and generally offer good trade opportunities. We keep a small supply of captured asteroids in the hold, and many species are happy to trade for those. Or can be bribed with them to let us alone."

.

Quill shivered a bit, then slowly began to relax, snuggled as they were into Sticks' frame. "Oh, oh dear, I do like that idea," they whispered, and, shivering, hid their face as well as they could. "I-I could- I  _ can _ taste, some, but my- my tolerance for high-grade is extremely low, and I tend to run into things if I'm tipsy, I'd rather not repeat this. I-I do like this, though, if- if I can borrow you for a little while, perhaps? I... I have an- an issue with- bots larger than me, sometimes, so- so I- and  _ music _ , please, if- if at all possible, I like  _ music _ , but I don't-" a soft, shuddering in-vent, then they exhaled rather forcefully, voice steadying a fraction. "Do you know where I can get some- some music? That would be... nice... and I'm not sure if- if I- Patches, why- could you- I can still  _ feel _ the moving, it's-"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Patches sighed, and stilled his servos for a moment. "I'm very sorry. The trouble is, it really does tend to make it harder on people to not be able to feel anything. If it feels like your whole arm is gone, you're not going to do well with that, either. I'm almost done with- ah, here we go," he declared, and settled the claw back into its socket. "There. Easy. Move with me, feel the weight, you're all right. I just need to reconnect a few wires." 

Quill did as they were told, shifting their arm slightly, and felt... oh. That was the right weight again. "Thank you," they whispered, and their frame relaxed a bit further. "Music, if you know where to get any. I like the colors. And somewhere... quiet, and private, where I'm. Not likely to have to worry about someone  _ tripping _ over me. I don't like that." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/18/2019**

Arclight settled into the oil and flared all their rotors, shuddering as the oil slid into the protective areas, then grinned and cocked their helm slightly towards Spade. "Heft. Big bot. Stuck 's dick in people's faces t' proposition 'm. Blunt as fuck, kinda annoying.  _ Primus _ that was a good dick, though. Them scars- him. Didn' mean to, just. Too fast. Went 'Con, too, got fuckin'... someone had a rocket launcher," they muttered, scrubbing their face with both servos, then gathered Spade up close to their side. "Got ya. You got... slag. Tell me if I poke it any." 

A moment of consideration, then he grinned crookedly at the twins, gesturing slightly with one servo at their muffled shape under the water. "Flashed 'em."

Duo could not currently see anyone's anything, thanks to the oil, and that was fine by them. Too much dick for today, thank you! Well. It might be interesting if someone hit on them, but... these two bots were... there was a lot going on with them. They were probably best not to try to interface with.(edited)

March 19, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/19/2019**

Vulcan stayed still to let Aponogee paint where they saw fit. It was rather interesting to see the choices they made, not choices they necessarily would have picked themself, but perhaps it was the novelty, the freshness of it, that made the work artistically compelling. Aponogee looked very focused, too, they seemed to be enjoying the experience, or at least content enough to use it to pass time. "I do like it, dear, don't be afraid to continue," they said softly.

Turning just a bit, Vulcan looked to Reaver, an intrigued expression on their face, "Ah organics! I may be able to help there. Puppet and I spent a great deal of the war on an organic ship, the owner of which... may or may not have been a drug dealer. I never dared ask. But they taught me... I understood it's used as somewhat of a common language among intergalactic travelers, made for," they gestured to their throat with a small servo, "a certain type of vocalizer, tricky for a species as ours- either that or it was simply a gibberish language they kept consistent to fuck with me, it certainly wouldn't be beyond them. Regardless, if you have need of an interpreter, I may be able to help."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/19/2019**

It seemed it was moderately safe to open their optics again, Sticks decided. Tensing a bit, they did, and were greeted with a much more palatable sight than before. Everything was aligned correctly at least now. But a klik of watching Patches's servos cover Quill's and they could feel an anxious tickle in their fuel tank. They abruptly turned away to look down of what they could see of the small bot curled into their lap. "Oh music," they said a little wistfully after a while, "there must be  _ some _ music discs in the soft room. If not I  _ may _ have some old files somewhere I could see if I could project into the speaker system. I'm afraid they'd all be folk songs, though. Not sure what kind of music you have in mind but we'll find a way." They curled a bit further in, "I'll stick with you until you've had enough of me, don't worry, nobody's gonna bump into you on my watch. But- Yes, I think the soft room would be a nice place. Lots of pillows and a big screen. Quiet. If there's anyone in there, they won't bother you. Though in that case we'll have to ask if we want to make noise." 

Sticks straightened up a bit, "it's a plan, then. Though you may have to compromise on genre, if you tell me what you like I can try to hunt it down for you. But..." they cocked their helm a bit, "Not sure if I'll be able to find music with colors in it."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/19/2019**

"The things you'll do for good dick," Spade said absentmindedly as they leaned in closer to Arclight, "Nobody really stuck around long enough for me to be able to properly decide whether the dick was worth it. Except for-" they paused wearing a wry smile, "and they ended up rejecting me, anyway. Speaking of dick- ppft- shoulda seen me earlier." Their expression switched to something more lewd, "These fools were tryin to touch you and I climbed up on top of you and posed- scared em away with my awful frame, spike out naturally." They sank down a bit in the oil, "You ever want me to repeat the favor you just let me know."

They were liking this much more than they probably should have. It was warm, Arclight seemed relaxed. They could feel the oil start to ease the edges of their scars and instinctively brought their servo up to rub at the one on their chassis. They looked up to Arclight's face and tapped them on the side to get their attention,  _.:Know you wanted to hit it off with the twins at some point, I got your back if you wanna make a move or something now:. _ They gave Arclight a bit of a mischievous smile.  _.:I can vouch for you:. _

##  **Betta132** **03/19/2019**

"That could be useful," Reaver hummed, and stretched out on the floor, on a portion covered by a plush rug. "That might explain where they picked up the rude gestures, then! You didn't seem the type to teach them that. Crude gestures seem to be almost a universal language of their own, don't they? And some people get terribly inventive. [i]Is[/i] that where you learned-" and then a mischievous little urge struck him, and he smirked slightly, looking over to Puppet. "-actually, what else did you learn?"

Several more increasingly rude gestures, apparently, Puppet grinning with a glint in their optics as they listed them all off. 

Aponogee, smiling just a fraction at the praise, continued up further. Around Vulcan's shoulder, then on to his back. And, after a bit of squinting, they tried something else. Tracing a pattern around the centers of the larger plates, the lines roughly parallel to the tracery around the edges. But only roughly. Mostly they had it.

.

"Folk has colors, too. A lot of orange. Have you found some that doesn't?" Quill asked distantly from somewhere around Sticks' chassis. "Even the bad music. Those colors are weirder. Sometimes there's black when they get it wrong, you- you know?" 

"Ah, I suspect they don't know," Patches hummed, and plugged another wire back into where it was supposed to be. "That's called synesthesia, Quill. Results from sensory input... more or less leaking between sensory sensors. Essentially, your processor responds to music in mild error, by also activating your visual processing centers to some extent. It's entirely harmless, but rare, and you may find that those with the same type of synesthesia might not see the same colors as you. I do see it more often in minibots... it makes me rather wonder if the shorter physical distance between centers allows for it more easily." 

"Oh," Quill muttered, then started to giggle, shaking a bit. "Oh, goodness, that- that  _ does _ explain why that's gotten me some funny looks. Goodness. But, yes, that... that sounds nice. If it was up to me, I tend to like classical, but... really, anything that doesn't hurt my helm, please." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/19/2019**

"They touch... every-fuckin'-thing," Arclight noted, soft, watching the twins' shapes move under the oil. They were petting each other, from the looks of things. "Scarin 'em with dicks, huh. Not sure... if I  _ could _ , without... gonn' have slag happenin'. Fuck they're cute. Right? 's cute?" they asked, soft, glancing to Spade for confirmation. Humming softly, they curled gently around Spade, then, a bit cautiously, lifted the smaller bot into his lap. It was protective, as well as he could manage, curled around them to tuck them to his stomach. Duo didn't seem inclined to leave any time soon, and Arclight was fairly sure that he wouldn't-

Actually, no, he didn't know what he'd do in their place, aside from quite possibly going to get someone with more expertise. It... didn't seem unreasonable to supervise here, though. 

Duo surfaced after another minute, optics on Spade. Or. Sort of on Spade? In their general direction, at least. "Better?" they asked, soft, trying to figure out how much of them was okay to look at. "Clean?" 

"Ghosts out?" Arclight contributed, very softly, and gave Spade a quiet squeeze.

March 20, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/20/2019**

Vulcan's expression wilted considerably as they watched their dear son perform a great deal of lewd gestures. They shook their helm more and more until they had to stop themself from laughing. " _ My _ well-mannered son, so  _ rude? _ I should call Polaris over  _ right now _ and throttle them," they said, at once flabbergasted and amused- as much as they tried to hide it, "Some of those- I'm not even sure they correlate to our  _ species. _ Do you- do you even know what they  _ mean? _ " They left the question for a split klik before closing their optics and turning away, "On second thought I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that one." They paused and added, "At least you have the common sense and/or common decency to have kept me from knowing this whole time, some sort of reassurance."

Vulcan was watching Aponogee now, interesting choices. They hummed a bit, their face softening, "You seem to quite like this Aponogee and you have a knack for it too. You're not afraid, which is, perhaps, the most important part. If this is something you would like to pursue I would gladly teach you what I know- and I'm sure Reaver would of course offer his knowledge as well."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/20/2019**

Sticks cocked their helm, an intrigued smile spreading over their face, "I've- I believe I've come across that word somewhere before but I've never actually  _ met _ someone with it. That is  _ fascinating. _ " They hugged Quill a bit tighter, and patted their back excitedly with one of their servos, "Oh- if only I had access to all the files I was working with before. I was- well, before the war I was assigned by the Iacon archive to collect recordings of old folk songs -gotta document them before they disappeared. Brought my favorites with me. I wonder what colors you'll see..." The prospect that someone might actually  _ enjoy _ hearing the songs that had stuck with them through the hellish campaign on the sand planet thrilled them immensely and it wasn't difficult to tell, "Or- what do you think about singing? Does that... can you get the colors there too? One of my friends sings real well and he knows some songs even I don't know. Don't think he'd mind singing for you. But-right, classical I wonder if S-ssssss-" they stopped themself from saying Soundwave's name, right, not supposed to namedrop him. 

Sticks trailed off optics narrowing in consternation, "That... mech. Acquaintance. Person- I'll ask him if he has any- he might. Patches, who else you think might have some classical music- Reaver?" a couple kliks of awkward silence, "...  _ Blackspark? _ "

.

Spade tensed a bit in Arclight's lap. It was an innocent enough question- from both- all of them. But it felt like it was leading somewhere- somewhere they didn't know. Their brow ridges furrowed just the slightest bit as they identified another bit of stupid logic. They cared, they all cared, enough to ask. At last it sunk in they couldn't avoid the concern for much longer. They looked down at their wretched, stripped frame, cupping some oil in between their servos to rub on their face. Yeah, at least it was clean. 

Bringing their knees to their chassis, Spade nodded. "Yeah," they sounded tired, "Better off than I was before, at least." They leaned their helm into Arclight's side, optics falling to the swirling oil in front of them as they let out long vent, a flurry of bubbles floating upward from around their sides. They were going to have to go back to their armor soon. The thought fell like a heavy blanket on their shoulders. "Thanks... And I mean it- thank you. I appreciate what you've done for us, Duo- you didn't have to," they said quietly then looked up at Arclight, "And you-I... didn't see if you got your stomach, lemme just..." They turned around slowly and moved with a kind of practiced confidence, lightly rubbing their servo against Arclight's lower stomach plates, moving systematically upward without getting close to any of their scars, trying to bat away any slickness more than anything else, "Are your scars feeling okay in the heat?"

##  **Betta132** **03/20/2019**

Puppet gave a chattering noise in the back of their throat, entertained, then... sort of crept over. It would have been creeping if it was more delicate. This was more like slithering. Whatever the method, they wound up snuggling into Vulcan's frame, out of Aponogee's way but right up against their father-figure. Mostly to apologize, crooning softly and nuzzling into his throat. They weren't trying to upset him! They just... they knew some naughty signs. And they liked it. And Reaver had asked!" 

"Oh, I did encourage them," Reaver chuckled, quietly amused, and spread his wings further. He looked thoroughly comfortable, stretched out on the rug like that, watching them all. "It's far from the worst things they could know, especially if that came with an actual lesson in... anatomy," he noted, blushing slightly and ducking his helm away, and reached up to scritch around one of his horns. "Someone has to tell them, and... somehow I don't think you'd be inclined to... yeah. And, yes, I would happily teach you, Aponogee. Though perhaps not until you get some glasses?" 

"Mm, I can't... see what I'm doing, not really," Aponogee noted, squinting, and leaned back slightly. "Either I need glasses, or... a really, really... long brush. Then I could stand far away. I don't think that would work very well, though. Is that how... what do people do to paint ceilings?" they asked, and began to color one of the smaller shapes in. It was a bit messy, but that was okay! And they were thinking. Even if that... that probably wouldn't work. It was a clever form of problem-solving, even if "do everything from far away" probably wasn't the most practical solution to farsightedness.

.

##  **Betta132** **03/20/2019**

Quill squeaked lightly at being hugged, but that was helping! It was hard to be nervous when someone was being excited at them and holding them tight. "Oh, that really does explain things. My goodness." 

"Blackspark's taste leans more towards rock, I think. Reaver, maybe, or Tempo. Or... you know," Patches mused, lightly testing the joint, "try Milu and Avalon. They have quite a collection of things out of different ruins, anything relatively intact that they could find. I'm reasonably sure Crucible has copied most of the data he's been able to get ahold of from the others, so he probably has the best collection of music, though he may not have everything. You probably  _ should _ try Crucible, actually. Last I knew, he had a few recordings of a sort of... reverberating, tectonic music. More like what you'd hear from miners. Miners really tend to like the deep, vibrating notes, the kind that do best in big open spaces. Maybe not the best for right now, but worth listening to, though some of them really don't sound right outside the acoustics of a mine. The living metal does some fun things to sound," he hummed, then glanced up to Quill once more before beginning to hum. Low and soft and quietly vibrating, up and down, the first song that came to mind. Nothing terribly remarkable. He didn't even remember where he'd heard it. Probably on a radio somewhere. For this point, it really didn't matter- he just needed music.

"The colors... don't tend to show up as much if it's me, I suppose it's processed... differently, in..." Quill began, then went quiet, optic fixed on thin air. After a moment more, they turned to look at Patches. Just his face, just out of the corner of their optic. "Bronze. It shimmers." 

_.:Hm. I think they might like Soundwave, actually. This is a form of data-gathering, after all, the writing. And they're quiet, Soundwave seems to like that. The potential issue is, they might set off his protective impulses, they're about small enough to be a symbiote. What do you think?:. _

.

Duo fidgeted out towards Spade, but didn't even get within an arm-length of them. Didn't dare. No matter how much they wanted to. "Good, being less bad," they purred, helms cocking slightly, then clicked lightly in thought. "Armor not so good? Could...  _ not _ wear armor. Need  _ something _ , but- cloths? Have lots of cloth in places. Small bot, small frame. Cloth is warm, is nice, probably harder to..." another pause and a glance at each other "bug? Poison? Whatever. Try wrap ups like" a notable deal of splashing ensued as they attempted to convey something with gestures "sheets and folding and ribbons, like- forgot name. Organics. That way" a quick gesture "and left, under a sun. Very nice. Good, soft things." 

"Heard worse ideas," Arclight contributed, then sank a bit deeper, huffing defiantly. "Burns," he grumbled, rubbing at one of the scars, and smirked quickly as he turned slightly away from the twins. "Fuck him. I get this. I get  _ baths _ . Get  _ me _ ," he hissed, and gave Spade a careful squeeze. "Could. Could try cloth. Less ghosts? Might be... cold. Don't know where t' get it. But. Not stupid."

March 21, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/21/2019**

Vulcan sighed, unable to really keep their smile away this time as they gently pat the back of Puppet's helm, "You know I'd never gotten this far before in the whole process of... raising young ones I suppose you'd call it. Never got past the point where they need protection more than anything else. I worry I might fail you, Puppet, I don't know what I'm doing. But..." they stayed their servo, "Whether in spite or me or because of me, time and time again I find you seem to be turning out just fine, so I can't be all that worried now, can I?" They straightened up a bit to conjure up an air of authority, "now, I may be  _ scandalized _ by your knowledge of rude gestures but I am not disappointed. You are a bright bot and I trust you will use them  _ wisely. _ You need guidance more than you need protection now, anyway." 

A pause and they pulled back slightly, expression serious, "Reaver is correct, none of my guidance will touch any part of interface, save for issues of consent. I have seen the  _ abominable _ results of justifications made in the name of 'guidance.'" They stopped, frown deepening for a moment then sighed, not a topic for the present company, "I will insist you receive an education at some point from someone you can trust not to hurt you so whatever organic-centered things Polaris taught you will be rectified- not now, not until I'm sure you can clearly communicate revoked consent."

Vulcan let out a vent as their expression softened again then turned to Aponogee, "In a lighter topic, I believe you may be able to find or build a telescoping brush. However, holding onto the end of a long instrument is rather unwieldy. You may find you could get used to it, though." They laughed a little bit and turned around to talk to Reaver, "Surely  _ you _ know a small... painter." 

Vulcan trailed off, expression oddly fond. They couldn't help but stare at Reaver. Stretched out on the floor, comfortable, a little bashful -there was something endearingly attractive about the whole picture. A moment of sizing the mech up from helm to pede and they looked away, examining their new paint instead.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/21/2019**

Sticks curled over Quill slightly in continued excitement, it was nice to hear Patches's humming.  _.:I suppose it's up to Quill, whether or not he's scary to them. I could see it going very well or very poorly:. _ They paused, then added  _.:Probably the former, though, I'd be surprised if we had a Longrange situation, seeing as I doubt they were an Autobot. We could ask them what they think. Find out what their boundaries are and then pass those onto Soundwave. You know him better than I do but the mech seems reasonable to me. If it goes well enough having someone trustworthy like Soundwave around could potentially keep Quill from hurting themself again or, I suppose, being stepped on:. _

Sticks waited for Patches to come to resting point in the song before they spoke up again, a little quieter, "Crucible seems like our best bet, then- don't know what could be on those datacards Milu and Avalon have. Could be music, or image files, data... if we're  _ really _ lucky it'll be a copy of a virus." They chuckled a bit and slowed their servo to gently stroke down Quill's back, "could be fun but not relaxing. Hmm we'd probably have to call crucible over- you think he's working now? Quill, you probably don't want to be walking around too much to go find people, too, I imagine."

.

Spade gave Arclight a triumphant smile in solidarity, damn right. They paused and considered for a moment the prospect of cloth covering. It was a solution, perhaps, at least to have  _ somwhat _ less staring. It wasn't a whole lot less noticeable, though. Who would pass over a bot wearing  _ cloth. _ And it wouldn't work for the long term. The cursed and rotten root of their problem still sat in a pile in their room. They hummed a short, low note, and returned to their rubbing. It was as much for their peace of mind as anything else. There really wasn't a whole lot more to clean off but they still worked their servos around the edges, the seams, massaging as they had done so many thousands of years ago. 

When they finally couldn't justify staying silent any longer, they rubbed their servos together under the oil and sighed, "Beats being all the way naked, I guess. Won't work in the long run either but for now... I'd try cloth." They smiled a bit and chuckled, "could really get fancy with it. Try a new thing every day. I think... I think I like that idea." They sat up and reached a servo upward to Arclight's helm, "Lemme get your face, Arclight."

##  **Betta132** **03/21/2019**

Revoked cons- oh, right. That. Puppet blinked a couple of times, then screeched a faux-angry noise and bit Vulcan's arm. Lightly. If they wanted someone to stop, they could screech and bite, and that would get it across. They hadn't really wanted to interface with anyone, not yet. Maybe something about their frame still not working right. Maybe it would work better if their spark was better fastened in. But, really- they wanted to know more, please. Polaris had given them the idea of how it worked for some organics, and had been fairly sure it was pretty close, but hadn't known the details for Cybertronians.

Reaver caught the stare and glanced away, shy, wings flicking up, then looked back to the situation. "I don't think a brush would be the best plan. Entertaining as the concept is, that sounds more suited to a comedy skit than to real life. Glasses are probably the better course of action, though that  _ is _ clever," he noted, and turned his attention to Puppet. Mostly to figure out what the pretended protest was about. Hm. "You know... I suppose I could see how someone could be" a slight grimace "disgusting about that sort of thing, but it  _ is _ possible to instruct someone about something without...  _ doing _ it. When I was little, they... let me see," he muttered, and thought for a few moments before continuing. "They thought it best that we learn from a reliable source instead of accidentally picking up faulty information. We got an overview of the... anatomical basics when we were quite young, far too young to be interested, and then a more thorough explanation when we were just before the age of wanting... that sort of thing. With encouragement that, if we wanted to experiment with someone else, it ought to be with each other or with someone of similar age. And I've turned out fine. I'm not traumatized, and I didn't grow into... some form of pervert." 

A pause, and then, helm ducked and voice low, "well. Not a. Harmful sort. It. Depends on the, ah. Definition. I suppose," he finished, blushing further, and didn't look at anyone else. He did have... kinks. Some people would probably call him a pervert for that. But they were consensual, safe kinks! It was fine! "...ah. Anyway. You may want to ask Patches to provide an explanation, and..." a pause, then he spoke more quietly, trying not to get Puppet's attention. "I think the idea of giving them information  _ before _ they get interested is probably smart. Better they know how not to hurt something once they get curious. If they. Aren't already."

Aponogee looked back and forth between everyone, then giggled slightly at Reaver's embarrassed look and at... whatever Puppet was doing. At the moment, it appeared to be mostly chewing on Vulcan's arm out of... some form of curiosity? Idle search for stimulation? Hunger? They didn't know. Did it matter?

.

"Crucible is nice," Quill commented softly, one set of antennae lifting in what rather resembled a smile. "When I first got here, he... he saw that I was getting overwhelmed by everything, and he let me ride on his shoulder so no one could bump into me. His forge is too hot for me to stay in there very long, but I like that he makes things. I hadn't really met anyone who  _ made _ things before him. I mean... construction workers, yeah, they build things, but it's...  _ out _ of other things. I've never seen someone... take a chunk of metal and turn it into something. Not like that." 

A moment or two of hesitation, then Quill shifted to tuck their unoccupied claw against Sticks' flank. They were bad at petting, but they could stroke with the outside of their claw, and they could nuzzle into Sticks, and that was all they could think to do right now. There were colors flickering through their mind, and Sticks was  _ stroking _ them, and what were they supposed to do in response but pet back? Oh, Primus, what did- they couldn't- couldn't not  _ snuggle _ someone, this- this was- you couldn't just be held like this by someone and not reciprocate! But, Primus, they only had these claws to stroke with, and they only had one free! Quivering, they whimpered just a fraction and pushed harder into Sticks' frame, trying to hold on tight. "Oh, I'm. I'm sorry, I. I just need. I haven't... I'm..." 

"That's all right, Quill," Patches crooned, easing another wire back into place. "I'm nearly done, then I'm going to see what I can do about that wrist armor of yours. And I'm going to ask you to consider again the idea of painkillers. I can give  you a very mild dose- it shouldn't affect your processor past a day or two to adjust to it, and it'll be much easier on your frame than the stress of chronic pain. It's entirely up to you, of course, but... I"d suggest it," he offered, and fixed another wire.

.

"Or could be naked with holos, but... seems cold," Duo commented, both of them wiggling rather gladly at their idea looking like it might work. Yay! That was always great, things working! Now- what else could they maybe fix? What ideas did they have? What were the problems here? 

Traumas, mostly. Traumas were the problems here. And they were... not psychiatrists. At all. They knew where one was, but adding Notepad into this bath would probably not help anyone. Could Notepad even take oil baths? With the winglets? Would the oil come out of the fabric? 

Arclight lifted their optics slightly, considering Duo, as they... what was that? It looked like a conversation, little gestures and shifts of body language, but they essentially weren't speaking. Just tiny noises now and then, little chirps. Must be communicating somehow, right? That was... that was a twin thing, yes? The communication. Heh. Cute. But- more important matters. Mostly Spade. They didn't know much about clothes. They knew people  _ wore _ clothes, mostly on other planets. Organics. Sometimes Cybertronians wore decorative things, right? Now, where did people get cloth on a ship like this? Blankets, maybe. Could rig... maybe just a small blanket. "D'you... want to... mm, fuck, never mind. I don' wann' think," they declared, and snuggled down enough to offer their face for Spade. Narrowing their optics against the attention, they scritched around one of Spade's audials, looking the smaller bot up and down. What else could they get up to?

March 22, 2019

You missed a call from  Malusdraco .03/22/2019

##  **Betta132** **03/22/2019**

why is my Discord making noises at me

1

##  **Malusdraco** **03/22/2019**

Vulcan startled a bit at Puppet's feigned protest and looked down to see what was wrong. It took a klik to figure out that it was a demonstration, not made out of true distress, at which point they relaxed a bit and put a gentle servo on their helm. "I'm not against early education, no. I agree, it's important to learn before one...  _ does. _ Now that there are more people around I find myself less averse to the idea. Suppose it may be about time..." They looked down at Puppet, a slightly worried look on their face. Now that there were more people of their own kind there was that many more unknowns. It would be that much more difficult to keep Puppet safe. They sighed and shook their helm as they pulled a piece of scrap iron from subspace and offered it to the bot, "Here, dear, I may well need that arm. I'll ask Patches when he has time -I'd never wish for you to be uninformed, of course," they sighed, "I just want you to be prepared and able to make good decisions. Above all."

There was only so much Vulcan would be able to protect them, they knew, their reach could only extend so far without becoming a hinderance. It was an idea they were going to have to deal with soon, but not an idea they had to especially consider now, and thus something they could put down. They weren't about to let Reaver get away with that pervert comment. The mech was undoubtedly attractive, kind, and seemed as invested in the welfare of others as any Vulcan had seen. Had they met before the war, they would have jumped on him with reckless abandon. They turned to eye him again, aiming him a knowing glance and raising an eyebrow ridge. There was still time yet, the supposed- once they'd settled the ghost spark into his new frame and could finally focus on other things.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/22/2019**

Sticks stayed their servo and leaned back just a bit to make sure Quill wasn't about to fall off. They pulled them closer just in case. Delicate bot, almost surprisingly so. They hummed a bit and used their free servo to gently follow the seams on Quill's back with their fingertips. Their face made a strange expression, something like a mixture of pity and empathy. "Maybe this is wrong, or out of line- and don't hesitate to correct me if it is but..." they looked down, "Is it possible you haven't been able to properly cuddle in a while?" The claw on their side felt sincere. The way Quill gripped them seemed slightly desperate- which, true, may have been because of their distress but... "It's tough isn't it? Trying to find someone whose servos aren't too big and who'll stay put." They paused then added, "'Course, could be because you're also pretty stressed, too. Regardless, it's okay, you've done nothing you'd need to apologize for."

Sticks considered for a moment asking about whether Quill liked any contact on their helm. Likely as not the answer would be no. Even if it was yes, the situation would probably stress them out anyway. Could be that them being a medic would spook them too much, too- as much as they hated to think that way. So they stayed quiet and pressed just the slightest bit deeper with their fingertips- ought to at least feel good.

.

Spade looked over their shoulder to see where Arclight was staring. Strange. They definitely looked like they were talking to each other. Over comms? They were right next to each other. They could think of a handful of reasons why they'd be comming each other as opposed to speaking aloud. Maybe they were planning some secret thing for them. After all it was just the four of em in this room together. Wouldn't be too hard to stage a murder. Maybe they were gossiping? Maybe they needed to pass information quicker than voice- that was a thing. Maybe they were miming movements without talking at all... strange. Still, it would be awful odd for murderers to discuss plans in front of their victims- at least so avidly. 

That is, unless it was meant to draw attention away from things. Spade's rotors twitched slightly, their frame went still as they tried to look behind Arclight for partners in crime. They moved slow to get a better view but still couldn't see anything save for the empty room and Arclight's frame. They supposed they should have been more worried-more suspicious- than they were. A terse sigh and they straightened up then turned their attention back to Arclight. They met the mech's optics with their own, searching for something.  _.:Keep an optic on them for me. They're either very bad conspirators or very good ones. Or they're gossiping:. _ Bending down to cup their servos under the oil, they brought them up to gently wipe at Arclight's face. As they drew a finger under their chin they thought, perhaps, there  _ was _ a reason they weren't as worried as they should be. Arclight had welders- had their back.

##  **Betta132** **03/22/2019**

Puppet gladly shifted their chewing to the iron, and went at it with vigor, using a set of dentae made from the hardest substance their frame had been able to build dentae from. Something harder than iron, to say the least, hard enough that they could scrape thin filings off it with every rock of their helm. They couldn't set at Vulcan's arm like that, not without hurting him, but this was for eating! And for watching Reaver do... whatever that was.

Reaver caught Vulcan's gaze, and his wings flickered quickly in embarrassment, optics flicking down and away as his cheek slits flared out. "I-I mean- I- uh- oh, I can't take that back, can I?" he groaned, and buried his face in his servos. "Just. Don't mind me. I'll be over here dying of mortification." 

Aponogee looked back and forth at everything, puzzled, then the gears clicked and understanding dawned in their optics. "Oh! It's a sex thing! You're nice. You're probably good at sex things," they decided, and cocked their helm in confusion as Reaver made an odd sputtering noise. "Uh. Is that a yes? I... I don't know what that noise means." 

.

"No, I'd- I'd say not," Quill whispered, and held tight to Sticks, their claw grasping tentatively at midair. 

"You know, Quill, you have more control over yourself than you seem to think. And I did pad those claws for you. Try using them," Patches suggested gently, patting Quill's arm. "I suspect you're desperately touch-starved. It's fairly common in empuratees, unfortunately. You definitely have permission to hug Sticks here, so- hug them! Get some contact?" he cooed, voice soft, field pulsing quiet reassurance and firm comfort. "It's all right." 

Quill opened and closed their claw, slowly, then carefully closed it around Sticks' arm. It was a bit tighter than the usual grasp, but they could tell when to stop gripping. They could feel the initial minimal resistance of the silicone, and when the resistance increased enough to show that it was metal, they had to ease up. Well- that and they weren't exactly built to crush things. They had a viable grip on Sticks' arm, felt like. After a moment to be sure Sticks wasn't about to... anything, they spoke again, very, very softly. "I can't feel... these. My. The claws. Just... what I'm doing to the joint at the base. I can't feel if someone touches them, can't... can't really tell what I'm doing beyond pressure and angle, and that, not well. I  _ want _ to feel things. I  _ want _ my servos back. But I. I can't," they whispered, and fluffed their armor. Their thin, civilian-minibot-class armor. "And. You can touch my helm. I... like when people rub around my antennae. Haven't had someone do that in a long time. Could... could you?" 

_.:Go ahead,:. _ Patches advised, electing not to say it out loud.  _.:Empuratees carry a lot of stress in any mobile areas of their helm. Petting is probably a great idea:. _

.

##  **Betta132** **03/22/2019**

Arclight squinted a bit more, half in thought and half to avoid their optics being scrubbed, and snuggled into Spade's servos.  _.:Twins. They do... something, yeah? Some kind of... saw a pair of 'em once that- a commander used 'em to get information across a battlefield, without COMMs. They can do... some kinda communication thing. I bet they're doin' it:. _ he decided, then elected to take a straightforward look. "Hey. What's- y' doin' something." 

Duo paused, blinking, and looked vaguely confused, then the sun rose and the dawn hit. Oh! A series of quick, fluttering gestures at each other and more clicking, then they realized what they were doing and switched to speaking out loud. "-twins. Split-spark. Instant communications, send- send essences of things instead of real words. Talk this way sometimes. Thinking, uh" did they say what? Hm, probably best, Spade was some kind of paranoid, right, "-Notepad. About soft winglets and things. Wondering where fuzz is. Wondering if fuzz is on spike. Good texture? Bad? Not sure if" much wiggling of fingertips in thin air "prickly."

Arclight squinted at them, then shrugged and lifted their servos to stroke Spade's cheeks, mimicking the cleaning. Probably good. There were fluids here.  _.:Weird gossip. Think it's weird conspiring? Not sure they could lie well:. _ (edited)

March 23, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/23/2019**

"Aponogee, dear, that means he simply does not know what to say," Vulcan crooned, still watching Reaver, their smile growing to something fondly amused, "You're cute. And it's a good thing, darling, I assure you. I was just thinking, were I younger, less tired, less busy..." A wistful ex-vent as their optics traveled up Reaver's frame, "I would be  _ all over _ you." 

Perhaps it was the springboard of the previous conversation, perhaps it was the fact that their dating prospects went from nothing to significantly more now that they were around so many more of their own kind. Whatever the reason, they weren't exactly shy about turning up their flirting in the current company. It was clear now that both Puppet and Aponogee had quite a lot to learn, and a proportional desire to learn, then let them take what they would from his flirting. The rest of his mind, what wasn't occupied by the two other bots beside him, was taking in the subtle gestures of Reaver's frame. By Primus the things they could do for him- the  _ blush _ they could suss out of the mech's face. It was exciting indeed. 

After a few more kliks of staring, Vulcan at last slowly turned to address Aponogee, "You would hope the good ones were nice. Unfortunately good... performance usually goes straight to their head. Not  _ mean _ so much as self-absorbed." They shook their helm, "This is not to say a good personality and good interface performance are mutually exclusive-" they paused and rephrased, "by which I mean, one can't have both. Like anything, both are skills that require careful practice to maintain."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/23/2019**

Sticks sighed, something deep and heavy and sad surfacing just a bit in their field to tug at the edges of their optics. They held Quill firmly as they curled down to press their forehelm to the top of the other's. Their free servo traveled up their back to softly rub at their neck cables and drew a thumb down the side of their helm, tracing a careful perimeter around their antenna. They'd touched that feeling before- it wasn't the same, no, but they knew what it was like to detest what their servos had become- to look down and only be reminded of how they were hurt- to struggle with even the most basic tasks- but also to be terrified of the prospect of change. They could  _ feel _ Quill's helm underneath their fingers now, fingers that moved as they wanted to. What would they tell the Sticks at once scared stiff and mortified at their servos?

Sticks took a deep breath, "It will get better, Quill. I  _ promise _ you." Their voice was earnest and it refracted through their field, "You don't have to believe me quite yet, but just know we're gonna do everything we can for you and it  _ will _ get better." They held their helm there for a few moments then hummed slightly and pulled back a bit to look down at Quill, servo shifting up to pet on top of their helm, "And if you ever,  _ ever _ need someone to cuddle with you let me know, okay? There's no reason to be touch-starved anymore."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/23/2019**

Spade actually paused to turn around and give the twins a strange look, "First that's- that's not how energy  _ works _ and second, I don't know  _ why _ you wouldn't share that with the rest of us." They turned back to continue scrubbing at Arclight's face and grumbled, "Now  _ I _ wanna know too." They weren't as grumpy as they sounded. Their optics actually softened quite a bit at the touches.  _.:I don't get the sense they could lie easily either but knowing they have an alternate mode of communication that I can't even attempt to tap...:. _ their optic twitched and they sighed,  _.:They could be saying anything, it's hard to trust:. _

Shaking their helm a bit they continued, " _ instant? _ There's  _ no _ time between transmission and reception? That's just- unless you've got some kinda spatial tuck between your two positions-using subspace to communicate with low latency... but even then-  _ instant? _ You ever  _ test _ that? Compare your speed against, say, the speed of light? Do you get more latency with distance?" They shook their helm, " _ nothing's _ instant."

##  **Betta132** **03/23/2019**

"Oh, well, I'm glad my mortification is attractive," Reaver muttered, and peered out between his fingers. Well. Vulcan was... definitely not unattractive, Primus, but this was still embarrassing! Especially with his vents trying to kick up as his cheek slits flared wide. His faceplates were too dark to show a blush, but the growing heat in his face tended to fool those slits into spreading as if he was kicking up his flame breath. Which was. Terribly embarrassing once people realized what that meant. But...

Primus. Sometimes you just had to embrace things. Reaver's helm thunked lightly against the rug-covered floor, then he sighed and got comfortable, offering Vulcan a soft little smile. "Oh. Why not, then? Why not. Yes. I have. Limited experience in more... unusual things, but... technique, I-I can do. And you..." a pause, and he chuckled slightly, arching his back in a long stretch. "You do need to... think about something more enjoyable for now, yes? I can't do... anything about the exhaustion, unless you'd like jet-grade energon, but I can... I suspect I can be very distracting." 

Reaver pushed himself up into a sitting position, wings up, optics half-lidded, doing his best to look seductive. It was about halfway flustered instead, but he did make a lovely picture- plating fluffed invitingly, posture relaxed, helm turned away slightly but optics on Vulcan. A clear enough picture of invitation.

Clear enough that Puppet caught on. Sitting up very straight, they slid onto the floor, stared between Vulcan and Reaver, and then shoved at Vulcan's arm. That was inviting! Reaver was being inviting! Go take that invitation! 

.

"I don't want to be taken apart again," Quill whispered, very softly, and hugged Sticks tighter. Well. As much as they could hug with one arm restrained. "Th-thank you. I-I do- the- the holding, please, it's good, I. I want," their vocalizer hiccuped, and they stopped talking entirely, field wavering in quiet uncertainty.

Patches sighed quietly and fixed the last bent bit of plating, holding thin wrist plating down against where it had been sealed. He didn't like to use sealants in plating most of the time, too weak. Here, though- Quill was a small bot, and it was easier on them than soldering anything. A few wraps of a bandage around their wrist to keep their plating down, then up and around the base of the repaired claw, forming a sort of soft, makeshift brace. That should hold everything in place. Humming, he tucked Quill's arm gently against their chassis, and patted their shoulder softly. "There. I'm done. Those painkillers should last for awhile, and I'm going to make up an oral dose that would work well for someone your size. You don't have to take it, but... just in case you want it. Now, how about you both go and do something nice? Walk carefully, Quill- just in case the nerves responsible for that referred pain mess up your leg mobility a bit with this numbness."

Quill gave another, softer hiccuping noise and curled completely into Sticks, tucking both claws against their chassis, and vented heavily for a klik or two before they began to settle. "Ohh. Okay. I'm. I'm done with the. Everything. Yes, please. I want to leave. Let's go." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/23/2019**

_.:Don't have to trust. Not quite. Just gotta figure they... probably don't wanna do much:. _ Arclight commented, scrubbing around Spade's cheeks, and gripped their jaw to look them over.  _.:Fuckin. Hot. Like me on you:. _

Duo paused and glanced at each other, then shrugged in unison. "Chemists! Not physicists. Functionally instant. How- how to test- stopwatch? Timer? No- not enough time. Too close. Could-" they began, then tensed, the curious-intrigued looks melting away for something blank and apprehensive, and clung tight to each other. "-no. Could- could test, but- no, no.  _ No _ splitting up. Have to be far apart,  _ not _ going to- no," they declared, winding themselves together so tight that they started to blend into one shape. "Won't. No testing.  _ No _ physics experiments. Do chemistry instead. Stay together. Like chemistry. Do inside. Close together. Be safe." 

_.:They got ghosts too,:. _ the welder noted, scritching at the sides of Spade's helm in lieu of the cleaning that was no longer required. *.:Ghosts about separating. Bet someone... made 'em. Gotta be bad for twins. Right? Never... never heard much about twins. Just some. Think they... would they die if we put 'em far enough apart? Not gonna  _ do _ that, but. Does that happen?:.*(edited)

March 25, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/25/2019**

Vulcan's optics stayed on Reaver's frame for a moment before they caught his optics and held the stare. Their body language changed slightly. They exuded a kind of self-assured calm but their optics gave away something slightly different- a fondness, a  _ desire. _ They brought a servo up to trace a thumb over their chin and sighed. A moment of stillness and they broke their stare, "Your earnestness is salve for a sore spark, darling," they said tenderly. 

They wouldn't say they were easily charmed and yet the figure of this mech responding so to their flirting... They were intrigued, titillated,  _ charmed, _ yes. And yet... they were at once so  _ conflicted. _ They had work they really should be getting back to and after all where would Puppet go? Aponogee? They were  _ not _ going to allow the two to stay here and watch. Still, they found something inside them reaching out to Reaver's invitation and grasping it between desperate, shaking claws. A louder voice told them it was time to go to sleep soon, lest they play with particularly painful consequences. One evening, surely, would be fine-  _ could _ be fine. 

"I would need to prepare," Vulcan said at last, voice quiet, but slightly more formal, "And I would insist the audience disperse, which brings me to my question," he turned to look at Puppet first, then Aponogee, "Can I trust you two to stay safe and  _ out of trouble. _ " They eyed Puppet especially.

.

Sticks held Quill for a moment longer, trying to figure out the best way to do this. Ideally they would just pick Quill up and carry them out to the soft room- that would make the most sense at least, but they were fairly certain the bot was too heavy for them to carry for any long period of time and they weren't about to risk hurting them again. After a few kliks of summoning up the courage, they hugged Quill tighter, moving an arm down to support their behind, and slid carefully off the berth before gently lowering their pedes to the ground, keeping a firm grip- as firm as they could manage- on their waist so they wouldn't fall over. 

Once they were sure Quill was stable, Sticks stood up next to them on their uninjured side, firmly grasping their elbow with one servo while offering the other arm as a brace in case the bot needed it, ready to scoop them up closer if they wanted. They weren't about to grab the bot's claws on their own, nor would they touch near that delicate wrist plating without clear knowledge they didn't risk further damaging it, but they were ready if Quill decided they wanted that sort of contact.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, Patches, could you open the door?" Sticks said briskly. They matched Quill's pace as they guided them across the medbay to the soft room. They had enough time to scan an optic around the medbay area and navigated around berths, ready to shout a loud 'Clear away' if they spotted anyone in their path. They supposed they would be more afraid of seeming overbearing had Quill not been so clearly distressed about the location.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/25/2019**

Spade managed a cheeky wink before noticing the twins were... having a bad time. Something tingled in the pit of their fuel tank as they looked back and saw the almost indistinct form of the two mottled bots huddling together, pity. They hadn't seen the two like this before- so  _ scared. _ They didn't know what to do. After all this time Duo had been helping them-whether for their own ends or not, and here they were unable to do anything to help them back. They weren't about to go over there and hug them or some slag- not their thing- they didn't know something good to say, and anything funny they could come up with would no doubt make it worse. They looked tired as their optics drifted from the two bots,  _.:Ghosts, alright. I have no idea what happens when you pull twins apart. They sure look like they'd die if they tried it. Scared enough:. _

Spade still felt bad so they cleared their throat and tried to rectify... somewhat, "Not worth it to test. What'd we use the information for anyway? Pit,  _ I'm _ not a physicist. I'm- I'm a spy, a spy who... never learned how to deal with people who were nice to them- uhh." They trailed off into uncertainty. After a short pause they picked up something else, "chemists- know how to make things that'll make you smell good? Wait- actually, I take that back, you  _ know _ how to make aphrodesiacs, yeah? What about something in powder? Topical?"

##  **Betta132** **03/25/2019**

Reaver's optics glinted brightly and he smiled, then flushed and glanced away, his body language closing up a fraction in embarrassment. He was being... rather blatant, wasn't he? That was the idea, though. And it had quite possibly had the desired result, because it didn't sound like Vulcan was speaking in the hypothetical about- ohh, this- this was promising, and he bit his lip slightly, bright silver dentae glinting against violet in an unintended hint of something very attractive.

"I don't know how to get in trouble," Aponogee hummed, having gotten distracted with stroking the bristles of a clean brush over their fingertips. "I could break things? But I don't want to. I don't want trouble. Are you going to get in trouble?" they asked Puppet, and only took a moment or two to remember that, wait. "Right- you don't talk any. How do I figure out what you're wanting to say?" 

Puppet blinked up at Aponogee, then shrugged, then aimed their best innocent look up at Vulcan. It looked convincing to strangers, probably, but... not great to Vulcan. To anyone familiar with Puppet, they'd look like a little gremlin. Then again, that was basically their default look, some variety of impending mischief. Cooing, they snuggled against Vulcan for a moment, then pulled away to latch onto Aponogee instead. They didn't spend much time away from Vulcan, but here was safe. They'd do their best not to cause any trouble! Vulcan should definitely take Reaver up on whatever was implied in that expression. 

.

Quill happily went with Sticks, their optic flicking around the medbay, and locked onto Five-Alarm for the last half of the trip. Large bot with very stress-blotched medic colors muttering to himself and sorting through a cabinet? Definitely worth watching. Even if they were watching to the point of tripping a bit on nothing in particular. 

Patches escorted them the whole way, opening all relevant doors for them, and smiled in relief as Quill stepped out of the medbay and relaxed. "Oh, there you go. I'm sorry you were so stressed, sweetie. I'll see how fast I can make up some of that energon blend you like, all right? You two try to relax." 

Quill looked back at the medbay through the closing door, then slumped against Sticks for a moment before walking over to a couch. "Ohh. I don't like medbays, but that one... isn't as bad, actually, The colors are good," they noted absently, and laid down on the couch. Face-first. One of the few benefits of empurata- one could still speak clearly while lying on one's face. "Could you... I think I'd like some... weight. How would- what do you think is best?" they asked the couch, antennae perking up slightly. 

.

Duo shuddered, hard, to shake the unease away, and the tension flowed out of them as they surged their affection at each other. And then, oh no- "Not  _ nearly _ enough friends, then" they declared, both facing Spade's general direction, and perked up notably at the challenge. "Yes! Topicals, harder, best on soft areas, but doable for..." and then a pause and a vaguely suspicious stare from both. "...but only for bots who want it. No sneaky drugs.  _ No _ drugs for people not to play with. Except tranquilizers for escaping threats.  _ No _ sneaky aphrodesiacs. Smells, yes. Want, what..." another pause and some gesturing at Spade, "...walk into room and be hit on? Trying for sexy? Maybe not best done in drugs, but, smells, yes. Pheromones?" they asked, the last question-fragment more at each other, optics brightening as the thoughts really started to get going. 

_.:You got the pilot light started up,:. _ Arclight chuckled, and watched with soft amusement as the two began to gesture at each other again. They were talking, too, this time- but only a word or two, scattered in, chemical names for the most part. Those didn't get communicated properly over the bond, it was hard to communicate, say, "bismuth" in vibes and intent.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/25/2019**

Vulcan hummed dubiously as Puppet scampered back to Aponogee. Did they trust Puppet not to get into trouble? Not in the slightest. The bot wasn't  _ mean, _ though, they were sure about that. And the dangers here were limited- minimal risk of the Galactic Council getting involved at the very least. And perhaps the bot was due for a bit of unsupervised time. But... they sighed and reached over to put a servo on Puppet's helm, "Please don't do anything that would get you hurt. That's all I ask.  _ Please. _ " They looked up at Aponogee, "You too, dear. Keep each other safe. If something happens, either of you can come right back here and get me-  _ knock _ or yell. If someone gets hurt- find medics  _ first. _ "

When Vulcan pulled away at last they had a warm smile on their face, "Be good to each other, you two." They stood up and stretched out all four arms for Reaver's view, standing on the tips of their pedes. They turned to face the mech and took a few slow, graceful steps toward him, mismatched optics glowing brighter. Turning back to the two they waved their servo in a wide gesture, an invitation to leave, "Mind yourselves dears, and... have fun."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/25/2019**

Sticks simply stood for a moment to breathe. Nothing freaky to look at anymore, luckily, everything was fixed for the most part and despite a few slip ups, everything had gone as good as could have been expected. They relaxed a little and made their way over to where Quill was laying, "I think this place is pretty good too, I like how it's bright all the time. I heard the colorful paint was Patches's idea. But, right, weight," their tone was different, more casual, without the nervousness it held before. They weren't in medic-mode exactly anymore just... helpful friend mode. "We've got some weighted blankets over there but they're heavy and I couldn't point to you which one is our-sized. Besides, I think that's depriving both of us of some good people time. So- uh." 

Sticks frowned a bit and grabbed a blanket that'd been thrown over one of the chairs, it was big enough to be quite a lot of material when folded up. They were halfway through wheeling it in to fold it before they realized it was also enough material to be too much for their servos to try to  _ actually _ fold it. So instead they grabbed what they could, holding the edge between their first two fingers, and pulled it over to Quill, "Blanket incoming," they chimed tiredly as they pulled the blanket over to them. It took a few more tugs to get the whole blanket onto the couch. They spent a few moments messing with the folds to make sure Quill got the majority of the material- making sure it wasn't over top of their helm, then sat down on the edge of the couch. "I dunno if this is enough but I'm not gonna lay all the way on you, think I'll just-" they lay down on their front, inched over to where they could see the edge of Quill's frame, and slung an arm and most of their shoulder over the back of them on top of the blankets.

Was this weird? Nonzero chance. Were they tired? More than somewhat. The prospect of laying on their face and relaxing for a few minutes was getting more and more appealing the longer they lay there. They took a deep breath and spoke, muffled through the couch, "good? bad?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/25/2019**

Spade grinned  _.:Better than em looking sad, hate that:. _ They turned back to Arclight's face, angling it so they could see their work. Looked clean enough- so they half-gently patted their cheeks in a 'all done' gesture and turned around to sit back down in their lap. They gave Duo a slightly tired look, "I'm not some kinda sex fiend- not  _ now _ at least. Just like the idea of boner powder," they snickered, "just like poof! Now you've got a boner. Wouldn't use it to fuck anyone but myself." They leaned back against Arclight, helm going back with an exasperated-sounding groan, "Self-esteem's bad enough I don't need to think the only way people're gonna fuck me is if I cheat." Their grimace turned grin again as their optics caught Arclight's face, "Like to snag people the old fashioned, way -makin em feel bad for me- which is easy because I am pretty pitiful."

Spade's smile turned just a shade more genuine as they reached up to gently trace their fingertips on Arclight's jaw, "for a charity case I really snagged a generous donor, huh. Top-notch stuff." The facetiousness bled out of their face until everything there was real. They blinked slow, "Hope I wasn't too weird for a second go at some point."

 

##  **Betta132** **03/25/2019**

Puppet cooed and leaned into Vulcan's servo, pushing themself properly upright for once, and leaned on Aponogee for a casual sort of support. 

"I'm not sure what we're going to do, since I can't understand you, but I'm sure we can find something," Aponogee decided, and picked Puppet up. "Do you want to come to the observatory? I like it up there. We can look at all the space things. I can't take you into space to show you, most people aren't good in space, but there are a lot of windows. And I don't always know what things are called, but I can tell you what they're like up close, and what they do. Some of them are full of dust and shiny things. But sometimes they're just full of sharp parts. Exploded ships have a lot of sharp parts. And dead people. That's sad. The rest is pretty, though. Let's go see if this ship is looking at pretty things." 

Reaver watched them leave, Puppet starting to climb up onto Aponogee's shoulder like a held cat, Aponogee still looking quite happy with this whole thing, and made a motion towards the door himself before pausing. Oh- wait. He didn't want to look like he was shutting Vulcan in. Instead, he crouched to gather his paint supplies, glancing almost shyly up at Vulcan before his optics returned to his work. "I should clean this up. And I would...  _ prefer _ that the door be locked, but I leave the choice up to you. I leave... most of the choices up to you, actually, you'll... have to show me what you like," he murmured, glancing up at Vulcan again, and twitched his wings up slightly. "I confess. I wasn't... entirely expecting that to work. Not that I'm complaining, mind!" 

.

Quill groaned in quiet gratification, antennae fanning out, and didn't move or speak for a little while. When they did, they turned their helm slightly to the side, enough to see Sticks, and squinted in the closest approximation of a smile that they could manage. "Ohh. Definitely good. Remind me later, and we can... switch off. This's... ohh, I don't meet people small enough for this often any more. I... oh. Thank you," they crooned, field unfurling to pulse gently against Sticks. Shy, of course, and a bit weak- it was common for field emitters to be tampered with during the empurata process. But, weak or not, it was there.  _ Comfort/thanks/hope _ spreading to drown out a layer of something creeping and unhappy as they squirmed to push in closer to Sticks. "You said... Sticks, right? Can I... is- is it okay if I ask... what did you do? Before... everything? I-I know some people don't like to talk about it, but... if you... wouldn't mind? You- you already know what I did," they chuckled, antennae fanning in a bit of a wry look. "And I'm... inclined to think you... might have done something a bit like me? Something with data."

They hoped it was data, at least. Sticks didn't quite look like the bots who'd normally be a noble-pet, not all shiny and fancy, and that was... probably good. Something about that whole category of 'jobs' had given them the shivers. 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/25/2019**

"Powder, eh-" Duo shrugged, making a wiggly gesture with one servo, then perked up and grinned. "Sprays! Less 'poof', more 'spffz', but faster-acting. Soaks in. Fancy little spray bottles?" 

"Weird fucker. Weird  _ fuck _ . Not... complainin'," Arclight decided, and curled up tight with Spade, wrapped around their frame for protection. Duo were staying out of reach, despite the wiggling. They  _ were _ , however, adding waves to the swirling pattern of the oil. Which, huh... there was a bit of a console-thing over there, wasn't there? Arclight squinted at the console, then pushed himself out of the oil just enough to reach it, tapping experimentally at the buttons until he found- ah. The right set of taps increased the flow of the oil to something stronger, strong enough to almost start to massage against plating, and Arclight sank back down with a contented noise. Well. More like a contented swear. "Mmmfuck, gotta. Nnh. Okay," they purred, and, though careful not to drag Spade down with them, sank under the oil completely. Mostly in order to push his helm against one of the oil outlets, because, mm. 

Duo wiggled a bit harder, making delighted little chirping noises, and scrunched down into a happy bundle of silver and green. Oh, they loved this. This whole thing was great. A bit more chattering about chemical compositions, then they grinned at Spade, both winking in unison. With opposite optics. "Can probably make boner spray. Best not for public. Or with cloths. Unless... cloth for kinks? Is kink, yes? Soft, and- is  _ possible _ to include in sexiness, so... probably included somewhere. Since. People. Sexiness."

March 26, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Vulcan raised a brow ridge and turned to go lock the door. "Truthfully, darling, it was only a matter of time until I asked  _ you. _ I had you marked the instant I figured out your personality." A short sigh and they flipped around to look at Reaver, "I've decided looks fall secondary to personality now, not when people can have both. I've... I've raised my standards. No more compromises for a pretty face." A gentle smirk as they walked to Reaver. They extended a servo to trail a finger up between his wings, "Though in this case I don't have to. To say nothing of your flirting- had that not come from  _ your _ mouth, I'm not convinced it would be effective." 

Vulcan stooped over to help Reaver clean up, consolidating all used paintbrushes they could find to one solvent cup before systematically drying them off using a rag. A quick scan to find where to put the used solvent and they set the brushes down neatly on the nearest counter. The whole while they continued talking, "You'll also be my first sexual partner since I left Cybertron -couldn't bring myself to experiment with organics- so you may have a vastly more eager version of myself on your servos this evening." They quickly but thoroughly washed and dried both sets of servos before turning to Reaver again, "You are among good company, darling. I was not about to say this in front of Puppet but-" they reached into subspace and hauled out a rather large case. They placed it gently on the floor and opened it up, "-I think you'll find by most conservative definitions, I am also a pervert."

Inside was an organized display of differently shaped spikes. They started out fairly regular, if fancy, with gold detail and the occasional stone inlay, but quickly devolved into impossible shapes. A two-pronged spike. A small mass of tentacles. A spike with ridges and a large knot in the center. An impossibly-huge spike. Several spikes had some aspect of translucency in combination with oddly shaped ends and textural bits. One in particular was so long and thin it curled around itself. Vulcan knelt down by the side of the case and drew their fingers over some of them, humming considerately. They caught Reaver's optic and grinned, "they aren't dildos. You'll see. Now-" they pushed the case towards Reaver, "pick your poison, darling."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Sticks gave Quill a genuine smile as the bot turned towards them. Oh Quill seemed so grateful, it lit something warm inside them.   "Yes, of course. I was an Archivist, worked at the Iacon Archives my whole life. Handled... a lot of stuff, actually. Switched between a research assistant- which was, yanno, sit at a desk and point people to certain collections they were looking for or tell them it wasn't available- and automated systems management- which was fixing and maintaining drone software, updating what people needed to use so they could actually use it. Nothing real remarkable, you know." A short, nostalgic sigh, "Mostly just doing what people asked of me. And then they asked me to do a solo project on archiving and categorizing folk songs from all over Cybertron and that was, that was  _ great. _ " Their smile grew as their nostalgia slowly absorbed them, "Got out of Iacon and actually  _ traveled. _ Spoke to people, recorded their songs. 10 years of just that. And then I got back and studied them, transcribed them- or did my best to. I was in the middle of making a database people could access and use when everything... started going downhill."

Sticks quieted down, their field coloring something sad as they reached to pet the back of Quill's helm. When they spoke again their nostalgia was gone, "It's undoubtedly entirely destroyed now. And in hindsight, undoubtedly entirely  _ useless _ anyway. Suppose I liked my job more than most. I mean, there were parts that hurt more than they should have, but I got lucky, I think." They quietly cleared their throat, "but, I guess you could say we did something similar. I think you can see now why I liked Stacks so much, right?" Their chuckle trailed off quick. They took a heavy breath and shifted to hold a bit more of Quill, for their own comfort more than anything else, "they say we're stopping by Cybertron at some point. I keep thinking about the ruins of Iacon- what it must look like now. I don't... think I could handle seeing that, yanno?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Spade was quick to pick up on what Arclight intended to do and muttered a quick "chase your dreams welder-bot," as their helm  disappeared below the surface of the oil. Still they only shifted a bit, still sitting down, pretty much on Arclight's stomach at this point, they turned around to face Duo, most of their face submerged, save for their optics. Their wings twitched upward, the tips of their rotors playing at the surface of the oil as they considered the possibility of boner  _ spray. _ They sat up enough so their mouth barely peeked out over the oil, "Better make it short-lasting because public  _ is _ where I'd use it. They won't let me have my knife back yet so I need at least  _ some _ kind of defense." A mischievous grin, "Plus I want to see the look on the person's face when they decide they can bother  _ me _ and they get a boner instead. Surprise boner."

Well now they were seriously considering this route, they sat up a bit and narrowed their optics in thought, "Though- that? Would that incentivize them? I think it'd  _ stop _ them the first time, but would it stop them the  _ second? _ " And then quieter, "Would  _ I _ be stopped by boner spray? I don't know..."

##  **Betta132** **03/26/2019**

Reaver wasn't exactly sure how to flirt back, truthfully, but he took a run at it. Mostly with his field,  _ eager/flustered/affectionate _ reaching to wrap around Vulcan. That, and his wings. Impeccably polished (partially thanks to Focus) and glinting, and  _ fluttering _ with every touch. He was hooked. Meticulous in his care of his supplies, of course, he'd been doing things like this since he was old enough to carry paint cans without falling, but hooked, fans already whirring eagerly in anticipation. He really did like the anticipation. "Ah, well, I'm- I'm glad I've managed to be charming. Those in my Order were... not  _ ashamed _ of interface so much as, I think  _ shy _ . Direct propositions, yes, but... usually over COMMs or another form of messaging. And I don't know about others, but... I, personally, hadn't quite realized the  _ variety _ of things that people have- oh my."

He'd been moving to sit near Vulcan, and wound up falling on his aft with a light thump as all of his attention turned to the contents of the case. And what felt like all his lifeblood rapidly made its way to, well. Somewhere other than his legs. His cheek slits flared wide enough to show fangs in what could have been a threatening gesture if the rest of him didn't look so  _ flustered _ , his wings pricked and quivered, and he raised a servo to cover his mouth slightly. "Oh. Goodness. That is... oh my. You... weren't..." his fans kicked up loud enough to be easily heard, and his wings  _ quivered _ , the uncertainty in his field rapidly giving way to something more excited. "...oh."

Watching Vulcan's face for some idea of what to do here, he slowly reached out to touch, one of the more basic spikes. This looked like something he was familiar with. And then... the  _ prongs _ , oh, that. That could definitely... oh goodness. He wanted to try that. And whatever this with the ridges would feel like. And the one he had to lightly touch to be sure what looked like barbs were soft. What really had his attention, though, was... goodness. Licking his lips, he carefully stroked a fingertip along the full length of one of the tentacles, feeling the texture, and swallowed hard as his processor drew comparisons to the closest thing he could think of; someone eating him out. That felt amazing. This... oh. Yes. 

"I. I want to try this," he finally decided, very softly, optics flicking up to Vulcan, then managed to sound slightly more confident. "And I... I don't necessarily want you to be...  _ rough _ , but... you look like you might be strong enough to hold me if I were to. Ah. Squirm. I would. Like it if you could try to... I-I suppose it might border on restraints. Beyond that, I... oh," he repeated, faintly, and turned away. Not to flee, though. He wound up kneeling beside his berth, halfway climbing into it, looking back over his shoulder and accidentally presenting a very tempting picture. Not quite in a good position for anything, but get him onto the berth a little further with his knees on the floor, and, mm. Those bright, intense optics, half-hidden by a quivering wing as he looked back over his shoulder at Vulcan, a bit nervous but  _ excited _ more than anything else. "Please. Show me... show me how you want to take me." 

.

"That sounds... really nice. Aside from the chance of getting stepped on," Quill chuckled, and- well, they couldn't really pet Sticks in return, not from under a blanket and without  _ servos _ , but they snuggled into them as much as possible. "I wasn't much of a traveler. Too short. Which... makes it sort of ironic that my most frequent venture out of my usual area was to go and talk to construction mechs. I met a mech there who I couldn't talk to without standing on anything because I only came up to his  _ shin _ . I never did figure out what his alt was, I couldn't see enough details." 

After a moment, they sighed and shut their optic, antennae lowering slightly. "Oh. I wouldn't call it useless, it's... it's music. We need that. Probably helps people's sanity to some extent. I do hope it isn't completely destroyed, but I really wouldn't know about how durable various... actually, no, I do know a few things about data storage devices. Mostly about my own. I don't know if you've ever used disks? They aren't the most efficient storage format, but they  _ are _ durable, and I have a lot of information about exactly how durable for anyone who wants them. Mostly because that's my alt- I can read those disks and translate them into a format that most computers and data devices can handle, or I can take data and write it onto blank disks. Though I admit I have no idea where to  _ get _ more disks now that all the factories are, presumably, some form of melted. Which makes me a little bit less helpful," they chuckled, and snuggled in a bit closer, trying to get their helm to anywhere there was any form of contact. Oh, they liked that. They... really liked it, actually, it was helping the tension in their frame. "Could you... keep doing that, please? It feels nice," Quill sighed, antennae quivering a bit, the delicate plumes pricking in hopes of being rubbed around.

.

Duo's expressions ran through several things in the general vicinity of skepticism and contemplation, mostly at the concept of aphrodisiacs as self-defense. That might not be the best defense mechanism, they thought, but they didn't exactly have any practice in... defensive boner-causing. "Might cause more problems. Instead, could... sedatives? Less... weird. Other thing, sort of" a pause and a bit of servo-wiggling, accompanied by skeptical hissing noises, meant to convey the general vibe of aphrodisiacs as a defense mechanism. Namely, not great! Kind of weird and not the best kind of weird. "Tranquilizers, good for not being messed with. Or" a pause, and Scissors more or less borrowed Syringe's entire helm, coaxing his mouth open and his helm back to show a pair of slits on the roof of his mouth. Syringe rolled his optics, but, obligingly, flared the frills low on his helm, and did something with a muscle somewhere in his neck that closed his throat off completely with a little flap. And, more interestingly, caused a pair of slim nozzles to pop out of the slits in the roof of his mouth. "-or just spit acid," Scissors finished, then paused, glanced at Syringe's  _ fangs _ , and shrugged. "Fangs help."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Watching Reaver with thoroughly invested optics, Vulcan could feel their own fans start to kick up a bit in response. Oh they had not had such rapt attention to their advances in  _ such _ a long while. They grinned as they picked up the tentacle Reaver had chosen, "An excellent choice, darling," their voice was low, soft, with a bell-like timbre to it that it had lacked before. They turned the appendage over in their servo to access the back, and stood up to lean against the wall, "I've had mixed reactions to this part, so feel free to look away if it's too much, but watch if you like."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Now that the mech was fairly warned, Vulcan leaned back against the wall, angling their hips out to show Reaver what they were doing. They pushed a small servo down their front until their fingertips touched their panel, which retracted in response to reveal a rather plain looking spike. At its base was a rather unusual protrusion, colored the same shade as the rest of their panel but shaped oddly, as if it were wrapping itself around the top edge of their spike. Their fingers traveled down to the base and twitched slightly, as if they were pressing something down. Vulcan took their attention away from Reaver for a moment to fully focus on what they were doing. After a few moments of waiting, they gently pulled down, their spike coming off in their servo, leaving a strange hole behind. Without wasting time, they quickly brought the base of the tentacle to the hole and fit it in. Reaching again to press and hold something at the connection, they held their servo there, supporting as much of the tentacle as they could. Their expression became somewhat pensive as they seemed to wait. A few kliks later and the pink glow of energon filtered through the translucent outer layer. They leaned down to deposit their old spike in one of the empty holes in the case and then closed the case up for good measure.

Once they were satisfied everything was working as it should they offered Reaver a bit of an explanation, "Modular spike. It has the customizability of a dildo with the capability of a genuine organ. I... got drunk at the end of a bad week and decided to treat myself to the procedure. The process of removing and replacing a spike requires the energon to be drained from it and then pumped back in the new one. It can take a few minutes to get to working capacity but by Primus it works. And this one is... well, it's a fun one." They looked up to flash a smile at Reaver and then continued observing the tentacle, they were beginning to feel the temperature of their servo, which meant. It twitched once, twice, then curled in towards itself, albeit clumsily. Excellent. Their field unfolded  _ pleased/aroused _ and they let it down to push themself off the wall and walk toward Reaver. "I believe I'd like to warm you up beforehand," They said politely as they knelt down next to him. They reached a couple fingers to trace up the edge of Reaver's wing, "Tell me now if there are any off-limits areas, any forbidden things."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/26/2019**

Sticks paused their servo, their optics brighting a bit in surprise, "you're a read/write disk drive? I... wow I had no idea people could  _ be _ disk drives." When they resumed petting it was with just the slightest bit more pressure, they switched their technique up to follow the edges of plates. "I- hmm," they frowned, "there were some standing read/write drives in the archive. I... I hope those weren't people, too. That'd have been real rude of me if I just never noticed." With furrowed brows they reached over to do double duty on Quill's helm, thumbing around the bases of their antennae on both sides. They sighed, "I suppose it's too late to check... let alone to apologize. Being ignored is awful." 

Sticks shook their helm, a bit confounded, a bit off-put, "But you're an author, I- Primus, I hope you weren't kept in alt all day." They paused and considered for a moment before continuing, "If it's a sore subject we can talk about something else- but, I wonder- I've always sorta wondered- what do you  _ do _ as an author? I mean, what did you do when everything wasn't destroyed. Did you just- write all day? When you weren't going to talk to the construction bots, that is."

.

Spade was nodding along in general agreement- yeah there were some unsettling implications to boner spray- until Syringe's mouth opened and there were  _ fangs _ and apparently also  _ acid. _ They didn't know whether to be intrigued or intimidated and stiffened in response. Optics scanning for an escape should Syringe decide he wanted to melt the local disappointment, they decided to sink back down into the oil, narrowing their optics slightly, trying to get a better look at the acid spouts. They sat up just enough to uncover their mouth again "Tranqs don't work quick enough and I  _ don't have _ the equipment to spit acid. Wish I did now, though. Best thing I've got is a program that might land someone in a processing-induced coma. But that's not good for quick situations unless I memorize the frames of everyone on the ship. Too much work, too many faces I'd have to see. More importantly will acid  _ float? _ "(edited)

##  **Betta132** **03/26/2019**

Reaver's arousal waned slightly in the face of a burst of intrigue, and he watched with more curiosity than arousal as Vulcan... swapped out a part of his frame for another part. Oh, that was just a little bit disturbing, but mostly it was fascinating. Could someone's frame be rigged to do that with their arms? Were there people out there who could just swap out their arms at will? "That is  _ fascinating _ ," he noted, leaning away from the berth slightly to get a better look. "It doesn't hurt at all? Is there a-a comparable feature for other, ah, appendages? Does... oh, I have... several questions for you, but, I think...  _ later _ . Right now, I want... oh,  _ you _ ," Reaver finished, softly, sounding a bit faint, and leaned back against the berth for support. On his knees, chassis pressed to the side of the berth, servos fisted in the blankets and kneading slightly in anticipation.

Off-limits, hm. That only took a moment of thought, and he shook his helm slightly as he spoke, helm ducking a little in embarrassment. "I haven't... tried anything I didn't like, though I haven't tried much. I don't think I'd enjoy pain in this context, though the" a slight pause and a deeper blush "the idea of being  _ nipped _ carries, shall we say, an appeal. My wings are, of course, sensitive, but sturdy enough to hold firmly. My horns are mostly not sensitive, except around the bases, and... they are sturdy enough for you to grip and pull on if you'd like. So, I-I suppose... let me know if you intend to do anything  _ too _ unusual, beyond, ah," a slight gesture at the cluster of  _ tentacles _ he was about to be fragged with, "this, let me know? But I would be glad to try... just about anything you would like. Let, ah... let me see if I can make a tempting picture of myself." 

Biting his lip shyly and hunching his shoulders a bit, he pushed himself up further on his knees, squirming further onto the berth. He wasn't  _ quite _ bent over, but as he shifted to put his knees further apart, he certainly made himself more available. A quick, half-hidden shudder, then he shut his optics and retracted his panels, exposing his valve and aft port and freeing his spike. Which, not surprisingly, made the show even better. His spike and valve were primarily a deep enough purple that they were nearly black, traced with purplish-white bio-lights that were edged in thin lines of true black. That pretty spike was already pressurized and ready, his valve lips were plump and slick with lubricant, and a silvery drop slid down his inner thigh as his calipers clenched on thin air.

.

Quill tried to speak, but it trailed off into more of a contented groan, and it took them a moment to collect their words again. "-nngh. Ah. Unlikely they were people, if they never made any attempt to say anything to you. And I wasn't in an area with a terribly high volume of things that needed to be etched, plus I  _ can _ work on disks in root mode if I don't need to be at maximum efficiency. It's all a subconscious process, separate from my own. Most of the time I'd just... sit and write. Keep a stack of disks near me and stay aware of my own internal reports, swap the disks out when needed, and work on novels in the meantime. I can do that in alt, but" a slight, sad pause, claws clicking under the blankets, "I'd always preferred to write or type my work. And it wasn't a  _ job _ , but I occasionally had people pay me a few shanx to servo-write a message. Usually something affectionate. I can... well,  _ could _ do a few different nice scripts. Terribly old-fashioned, but evidently romantic? So, yes, I'd write, or" a pause, tilting their helm slightly and giving another quiet noise, "now and then just chat with a few others. I wasn't the only immobile-alt bot in the building, we had a group chat. There was a printer a few floors up at a place that did advertising and still used hard copies of things- cheaper to stick on walls than datapads. Nice fellow. Something of a tactile fixation." 

A moment of silence, then they giggled softly, antennae lifting in amusement. "I did occasionally startle newcomers who weren't expecting a disk drive to talk to them. It's not the most common alt. Oh- have you met Notepad, the therapist? They're their own therapy couch. I hadn't actually...  _ realized _ that there were people with furniture alts. I thought someone made them up as the sort of thing nobles would like." 

.

" _ Our _ tranqs work quick enough," Duo trilled proudly, both puffing their narrow chassis in a motion reminiscent of oddly colored herons, then... huh. They... didn't actually know the relative density of their acid compared to the oil. Both sets of optics stared at the oil for a moment, then at each other, then both of them flared their frills- and in the next motion shut each other's mouths, having decided that their mutual urge to find out was probably not the best plan. Not this way, at least. 

But! Syringe pulled himself up out of the water enough to take a beaker from subspace without subspacing half the oil bath, dipped the beaker half-full of oil, and held it where Scissors could get his mouth around it. That same frill-flare, and a notable squeeze of the muscles at either side of his throat, and a matching set of nozzles in Scissors' mouth sprayed two narrow streams of acid into the beaker. The bright green acid swirled in with the oil for a klik or two, then, as Syringe put it next to the bath, began to settle somewhat. 

The twins squinted at it for a moment, then turned back to Spade, both looking quite satisfied with that result. "Not sure of exact relative densities, but, no. Does not float. Not this kind. ...assuming you meant float on  _ oil _ ? Definitely not float on air."

With their mouths closed like normal people, they were back to looking only moderately strange. The dentae that showed in their grins slid together enough to look fairly normal, albeit pointy. It was only if one twin opened his mouth wide, and they could get wider than just about anyone they'd met so far, that the fangs became fully noticeable. Not quite to the degree of being animalistic, but definitely unusual, and sharp. And, ah-! 

Scissors, this time, used his own mouth as an example. Mouth opening and lips pulling back from dentae that looked much sharper when displayed like this (though the potential threat was cancelled out by the friendly body language everywhere else), he let the four thickest fangs extend fully to show them off- because extend they could. Part of the reason their dentae didn't look as sharp with their mouths closed was because the four largest fangs, the ones called the canine teeth in organics, folded back slightly. Like they were snakes. When they nibbled at things, they usually kept those lowered to minimize damage. For true  _ biting _ , there were these. It made them look a lot less friendly to extend those, but, hey- this seemed the thing to do anyway. "Only for  _ nasty _ kinds of bothering, but... can bite, can melt plating. People only bother us  _ once _ ."(edited)

March 27, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/27/2019**

"Alright then," Vulcan murmured and shifted around to Reaver's backside, "I won't play to break -never intended to- but perhaps I'll be just a bit more unpredictable." They were going to savor this, they decided, and leaned over, slowly trailing their fingertips on one big servo down his arm until they cupped his fist. Their other larger arm played with his hip plating while a small servo ventured down across his side, lightly touching the plating right above his spike. Their chassis pressed against his back, they gently nuzzled their face next to his, just drinking in the contact for a moment. They breathed in Reaver's scent, closed their optics and hummed low in their throat as their inquisitive fingers ventured down at last, making their way around his spike, they came to rest to the side of his valve. Their fingers teased just outside of his valve lips. 

"You are so  _ wet _ darling," Vulcan murmured into Reaver's audial, their field slowly ballooning out  _ pleased/aroused, _ "And I see now you're just as pretty underneath that panel as you are everywhere else." They shifted their hips a bit to touch their tentacle to the inside of Reaver's thigh. It was rather cold for a part of someone's frame, and slightly moist. It curled just a bit to explore his plating. "She requires more effort to operate than most of my collection, but she has several surprises to offer. I can think of one way to wake her up," Vulcan crooned as they at last reached to gently swirl their finger around Reaver's node, "Why don't you sing her a song?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/27/2019**

Sticks smiled and hummed as they leaned their helm closer to Quill's, "I know Notepad, yeah! I'm- hah- I'm realizing how odd it is just, now. We're both each other's patients," a light chuckle, "They really are an odd bot. I never thought I'd meet someone who actually  _ likes _ being sat on but evidently they do. They're sweet, though, smart too." They paused for a moment to lean in a bit more and cross their legs, this was starting to be quite nice actually, comfortable, and Quill seemed to be feeling better already. "Anyway, your job seemed pretty nice, probably boring if you have nothing else to do but nice all the same. I'm surprised, though, I don't think I know a single person who enjoyed physically writing things out. Everyone worried about the impermanence of physical media and the like. Suppose, too, when you and all your friends are built for typing quickly you don't find many proponents of the art." 

Sticks sighed as a light frown passed across their face. They supposed they could learn now they didn't have that excuse anymore, but they weren't exactly interested in that sort of thing, at least  _ making _ something. They cocked their helm a bit as a thought occurred to them, "Quill, what do you think about the idea of borrowing someone's servos? Temporarily, of course."

.

March 28, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

Spade stiffened even more at the knowledge that yes, should the twins decide to spit acid into the bath they'd not be safe to stay underwater. Their optic twitched and their field fluttered something distinctly anxious as they realized they had no armor to even begin to protect against the bite of acid, and the flow of the bath would inescapably and  _ painfully _ kill them. They weren't about to let that happen. Their optics kept flicking to the beaker as they watched Duo show off some admittedly-impressive fangs. Determined not to let on their fear even more than they had already, they sat up and raised their wings just slightly out of the oil. "Makes sense. I would question why you're so cavalier about giving out information but... I suppose the problem would then become  _ using _ that information," they shook their helm, "makes me wanna fuck with you  _ even less. _ Not that I intended to before, you're good enough people." They paused, tone becoming hard as their optics brightened a fraction, "Suppose you could probably just about do whatever you want- two of you. Tall. Strong enough. Acid and fangs. Chemist knowledge gets you a whole assortment of possible defenses- or offenses- explosions, any sort of biological agent,  _ more acid. _ "

Spade's frame was awfully still in the oil. Their optics seemed just the slightest bit unfocused, not quite looking at Duo. All the while their field felt strange, as if fabricated but poorly so, unraveling at the edges to reveal underneath a calm façade was a sickly dose of  _ fear/uncertainty/distrust. _

##  **Betta132** **03/28/2019**

Reaver shivered in anticipation and leaned into Vulcan's frame, then squirmed a bit further onto his berth, which put him. Well. Bent over the edge of his berth, hips presented nicely, hiding his face in the blankets. The foreign touch of the tentacles made his wings jerk and his helm lift in surprise, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Vulcan, then groaned softly and rocked slightly back against Vulcan. "Oh. That's,  _ oh _ ," he crooned, field spiking arousal and wings fluttering, and. Well. He'd always had a thing -a  _ kink _ , he knew the word now- for showing himself off, so he'd learned, thanks to some embarrassed practice with a mirror, to control his own bio-lights. The lights running up his inner thighs flickered in an even pattern, starting at his knees and running up, then he brightened the lights around and  _ in _ his valve, making a tempting show even prettier. 

As Vulcan touched him, his calipers flickered eagerly at the prospect of stimulation, his thighs quivered, and he made a soft, shy, eager little noise in between the occasional moans and trills. "Ohh. Ah, I-I hadn't- oh, there is  _ potential _ in those extra servos of yours, was Primus trying to make you  _ especially _ sexy with those, and- and the voice, oh, that's good," he groaned, spike twitching, and tucked his wings up and in to press against Vulcan's frame as well as possible. 

.

"Wonder if they'd like being laid on in root mode. The pressure's nice," Quill mused idly, humming gently up at Sticks. "Usually wrote with a stylus, on a 'pad, so I couldn't lose anything. Typed, for the... the bulk of things, but somehow the plotting and outlines always felt like they worked better in actual writing. Met a medic who had a theory on why, but it was... a lot of long words I didn't know, so I-I don't remember all of it. Something about... memories and thought linked to tactile stimulus. And, impermanent or not- if you want a thousand or so fliers to stick on every available wall, it really is a lot easier on physical media. Or so I'm told. I've never tried to hang a thousand fliers, but I don't think gluing that many datapads to walls would work." 

A pause at the question, and they squinted slightly, processor running out in a couple of different directions at once. "Sorry, uh... do- do you mean  _ literally _ ? By, what- transplant, or- or  _ hacking _ , or- or a metaphor? Gonna... need some clarification, please." 

.

Arclight stirred, catching on that something was wrong, and surfaced. Well- surfaced just enough to get his optics above the oil and stare suspiciously at Duo, gathering Spade close again. What had they done to- oh, that didn't look like aggressive body language. 

Duo  _ had _ been wiggling a bit more, looking thoroughly cheerful at being appreciated, but they wilted immediately at the tone change. Oh. Oh, that wasn't at all what they'd tried to do. Uncertain, they looked between Arclight and Spade for a moment, squirming in place as they both fought the urge to gather Spade up to hold. But they had to hold  _ something _ , and they wound up grabbing one of the large towels from nearby, hauling it into the tub to- well, it was a bit odd. They pressed tight against each other again, snuggling, and bundled the towel up between them. Like one might expect them to hold a small bot if given the chance. "Not going to-" they began, then paused, glanced at each other, and went silent for a moment to gather their thoughts.

Their speech patterns had long since migrated away from the traditional. Mostly the use of pronouns had leaked out. That didn't mean they  _ couldn't _ use all the words. They usually didn't, but they could if it was important, and the full-sentence equivalent of enunciation seemed important here. Hunching down and petting the towel, they looked towards but not quite at Spade, their united voice soft as they let their field reach out.  _ Reassurance/apology/comfort _ , soft and gentle and shy, trying not to push. "Spade. We are not going to hurt you. We- we don't  _ want _ to! You haven't- sometimes people try to hurt  _ us _ , can't just ignore that, have to do something, but" a shivering pause, stroking the towel with a servo apiece, "won't hurt you. Don't want to. Not sadists, don't want" another pause and a distinct, disgust-filled shudder, "not  _ rapists _ , just... trying to- to make friends. Talking, bit of showing off, good for that. Just. Want to. Want to make friends, and-" 

They stopped the motion before it got anywhere, but both of them visibly leaned towards Spade just a bit before continuing. "-want to  _ help _ . Makes- want to- the- all  _ this _ , just want to" starting to sound a bit more disjointed, getting upset to retreat enough into each other, almost forgetting to communicate out loud, "to  _ hold _ , make it better, but- no. No holding. No grabbing. Not wanted, so  _ no _ touching, no- no anything. Won't- won't  _ do _ that," Duo insisted, something sickly and memory-linked weaving through their field. They'd had enough of grabbing for a lifetime. And, no matter how much they wanted to hold Spade until the darkness faded out of their  _ everything _ , they wouldn't. "Just... trying to be... friendly. Not always sure how. Usually, people either... freaked out, or like odd frames. If not freaked out, showing is good. So. Tried showing. Didn't," a wry little noise and a gesture at Spade, "go well. Usually, helps with the... the strange, if explained. Makes them not mind as much."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

"Darling I've barely even begun," Vulcan sang, "Though you won't get the full capabilities of my arms right now, too many... limbs to control." Their fans began to whirr as Reaver's sounds of pleasure stoked the desire within them. They let out a staccato huff and the tentacle squirmed against his inner thigh, at once trying to touch itself and Reaver. Their vents floated hotter across his face. The heat of their frame spread throughout his wings. They resorted to gently rocking against his thigh, not quite so much grinding as subtle but deliberate shifts in position- too much movement and they'd lose their grip - they couldn't really concentrate or properly control their appendage's movements yet. Within a few moments the movements got quicker as the tentacle seemed to slide against Reaver's thigh. 

Vulcan made a satisfied "ah" as the tentacle slowed, movements becoming more deliberate. They smiled, "My, it has been a while- I'm properly warmed up, now," they said breathily. The now warm, and very slick tentacle ventured up Reaver's thigh, teasingly. It was easier to feel now the rippling muscles underneath the surface- they seemed to move rather strangely, too, as if in segments. They raised a brow as they pulled away and shifted to slowly snake the tentacle around the outside of Reaver's panel. "I probably should have warned you this will not be very clean," they purred, "Now, tell me darling," the tentacle reached to comfortably curl around his valve lips, ready to enter at any moment, "would you like me to flip you over so you can watch? Or shall I keep it a surprise?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

Sticks half-grinned, "Hacking, technically. I'm not sure if it'd be a good idea given that it'd have to be temporary but... It is an option. Let's just say I've got a few tricks under my belt so if you would like the opportunity..." They shrugged a bit and continued gently petting Quill's helm, "It wouldn't involve anything medic-y, just need to let me access your dataport- which, is its own thing, and I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with that either, some people aren't. But I've been thinking." They paused and looked Quill in the optic, " _ If _ you were comfortable with it and  _ if _ it wasn't going to make you feel bad enough afterwards to not warrant trying... it might serve as a viable kind of treatment and- who knows, maybe with some engineering it could contribute to a long-term solution."

They wanted to be hopeful about this- they wanted  _ Quill _ to have something to think about that wasn't knives and needles and everything horrible that was done to them. By  _ Primus _ they wanted to help. They weren't about to do anything without consultation, nor unquestionable, enthusiastic consent, but they wanted the little bot to feel better. "We don't have to talk about this now- we could drop the subject entirely and I could go find the hookup to the sound system but... Would you? If you had the chance?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

Spade in-vented through their dentae and looked away. Their optics seemed to focus back a bit as a grimace tugged at their face. They sat for a bit, silent, until they sighed, "Now why would anyone wanna hurt you- you're good people," they murmured, "you... wouldn't hurt me- you  _ could _ but you wouldn't. Any- anyone could." They slowly shifted to curl up into a ball on Arclight's stomach as the false confidence in their field melted away to reveal underneath an exhausted, raw, profound unease. "Wish I was tall, or heavy, or strong, or could  _ fly _ or get away- or had big teeth and could spray acid," their voice was so quiet it was almost like they were talking to themself, "then maybe people wouldn't all be  _ threats. _ Then maybe people would just be- just be people. And-and friends could just be  _ friends _ instead of n-not-enemies." Their voice was starting to break, "An-and then people wouldn't  _ do _ anything to me. I wouldn't- wouldn't have to  _ worry _ about exactly how everyone around me could-  _ what _ anyone could-" 

Spade's vocalizer made a strained whining noise and they drew their wings further in. They looked small-  _ minuscule _ \- and finally just as vulnerable as they felt.

##  **Betta132** **03/28/2019**

Reaver groaned a long, shaky, thoroughly turned-on noise, valve clenching in anticipation, and hid his face in the blankets. He couldn't stay that way for long, not without overheating his entire helm, but ohh  _ no _ that was good. There went any hope of being coherent. He'd been wrong, this wasn't quite like someone using their mouth on him, but  _ oh _ Primus it was promising to be easily just as good. Lifting his helm slightly, he hid his face with a servo instead, his voice a bit muffled and laden with anticipation and beflusterment. "Oh, I'm- I'm not terribly inclined to move on my own, no, but" he swallowed hard, and his voice went huskier with arousal as he continued, field shuddering something unnameable but very turned on. "-but I don't know that I'd... be inclined to complain if you were to- to  _ make me _ -" 

True to his word-slash-suggestion, Reaver didn't try to squirm away as Vulcan moved him. The instant he was on his back, he took one look at the tentacles sliding against his valve, blushed so hard a wisp of smoke curled up from his cheeks, and hid behind his arm. " _ Frag _ ." 

Oh, this was. Very nearly too much. That was a  _ tentacle _ pressed against his valve lips, about to push into him, and then there was the promise of  _ more _ \- it would be so easy for one of those little tendrils to curl around and press into his aft port, he'd bared himself like this partially in the hopes that Vulcan would  _ do _ something like that, because this- well, this already involved  _ tentacles _ , there might as well also be other kinks, and that- he didn't know if he'd like it, but he wanted to  _ try _ , and- and that- 

Whining as Vulcan started to press into him, he hooked a leg over Vulcan's frame and tried not to  _ squirm _ too much, wings fluttering hard against the berth in anticipation-turned-pleasure.  _ Oh _ this was a good choice-

.

Anyone who'd ever said empuratees couldn't be expressive had obviously never met Quill, who was now rather eloquently conveying thorough bemusement. "You- wait. That sounds... terribly unpleasant, to- to override someone's motor control for- is that even a-a- oh, that's- ah!" they declared, antennae pricking up in a neat fan. "That's an archivist thing! I-I had some turn up to- well, to borrow me once, their inanimate disk drive wasn't working, and they were talking about... something like that. As some form of sport. It sounded like a good way to... I'm not actually sure what it would do, but I don't think it would be anything very good," they winced, and sat up a bit, tucking an arm under their helm to watch Sticks better. "Isn't that... invasive? I mean... I'm not sure if I'd actually...  _ like _ that, or- or if it'd just remind me of what I'm missing, but... I admit, I am curious." 

Primus, Quill being controlled like that would be terrifying. Not being able to move properly, feeling someone  _ else _ move  _ you _ \- sounded like someone's actual nightmare. Yikes! Why did people do that on purpose?

.

Duo quivered harder, whining as they looked at each other, and couldn't stop themselves from moving a bit closer. Just a little bit, just enough to sit a fraction closer. Oh,  _ no _ \- what did they- what did they do? Spade wasn't wrong! He was tiny! How were they supposed to- what did they  _ do _ about-

Arclight surfaced further to hold Spade close, aiming a half-sparked glare at Duo, but couldn't really blame them. This,  _ this _ was that fuckery that'd been hiding under there, and now here it was. Fun. Spade was tiny and was afraid of being tiny. That wasn't anything that anyone could fix. Sighing, he slid a servo up to pet Spade's helm again, rocking very slowly in place as a form of comfort. Duo were... Primus, they were still petting the damn towel. They wanted to hold Spade. Arclight... wasn't exactly upset at that, either. Didn't want to be touched, didn't want to let them touch Spade, but they wanted to  _ help _ , didn't they? Not that there was anything to help.

Duo shook unhappily for a bit longer, trying to figure it out, and kept that low, soft tone in their voice as well as they could when they continued. "Can't fix that. But... don't  _ need _ to be tough here. No one here to hurt you. Is- is safe. Want to-" the proverbial lightbulb went off, and they both sat up a bit straighter, optics gleaming. " _ Longrange _ . Ask Longrange, Sharpshot. Tiny. No guns. One, easily controlled. Other, easily  _ fought _ . No one here hurts them. If anyone here wanted to hurt, would've hurt  _ them _ . Can check! Is fine! Safe here. And. Have... self-defense things. Suitable for here. For  _ you _ . Want to see?" they offered, and, still fighting the urge to  _ hold _ , leaned against the wall slightly closer to Spade and Arclight. "Can see."

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

"There," Vulcan said quietly, "you should be more comfortable now." They simply stood there for a moment to take full stock of the mech in front of them, tentacle making a lazy circuit around the circumference of his valve's entrance, "Now aren't you  _ splendid, _ " they purred, tracing a small gold-tipped finger up the length of Reaver's thigh. They could pick up  the static cling of charge already, "I didn't catch this beautiful show you were putting on for me. Now- " Leaning over, a large servo followed up one of Reaver's elbows to gently pry his servo away from his face, turning their own servo around to stroke his palm with their fingers until the two were interlaced. "Don't be so shy darling... I believe you requested this earlier-" With a single movement, forceful but not fast, they pinned that servo to the berth above his helm, then gently did the same with the other. They brought a small servo up to touch his lips, then leaned further to press the side of their helm against his. 

"I can feel the heat in your face." they murmured from around his neck, mouth pulling into a slight smile, "This is going to require a lot of concentration, so I won't be moving much, or talking, but this lovely thing has a great trick."

Vulcan closed their optics and let their free servos travel down to Reaver's chassis and hips to pin him further to the berth. Their fans kicked up a few more notches in a combination of arousal and focus. The tentacle twitched a few times before steadily twitching itself apart into multiple thinner tentacles. Each began to pulse brighter, the sheen of lubricant refracting the light from the energon within. Vulcan ex-vented and leaned most of their weight on Reaver as the group slowly stretched itself outward to cover most of his panel. They were going by feel for the most part, but it wasn't difficult to figure out where each sub-tentacle was. One crept up to wind around Reaver's spike, grip firm, while a few more at last ventured inside his valve, twisting around each other to feel for internal nodes before exploring deeper. 

Feeling the leg around his waist Vulcan shifted further onto the berth. He pushed a knee up to tease Reaver's legs open further, angling his hips up to slowly push the last few tentacles around his aft port, gently teasing around the edge. Too much at once would have been just too much. They didn't expect Reaver to last much longer, though, and their field trembled with a bated anticipation.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/28/2019**

Sticks's optics brightened quite a bit in interest at the mention of some knowledge about frame-hacking but they didn't quite answer for a bit, a grin slowly inching its way across their face. At last they clicked their glossa and spoke, " _ Well _ general agreement was we shouldn't be telling people but that doesn't stop... a lot of folks. Suppose, though, not many would get the appeal. All it was was two bots sitting across from each other completely still and completely silent most of the time until one of them moves or says something. Not much to look at admittedly for a spectator sport. Risking either serious, grievous processor damage, or yanno, just a really bad helmache." They weren't about to go into full detail to a layperson unless they really wanted to learn more, and  _ especially _ weren't about to reveal their proficiency to someone they offered a procedure that required trust not to meddle in their processor. They'd learned long ago that got them only distrust. 

"But-anyway," Sticks continued, "You wouldn't have to worry about it... being invasive or... too much or anything cause. Well, I'd volunteer. I know what I'm getting into, it doesn't bother me, really- or it would, I think, if it were certain people, but you? I- I trust you not to do anything... you know, damaging." They grinned sheepishly, "though I'll say right now it may be a bit disappointing, I still can't quite grip a stylus yet."

.

March 29, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/29/2019**

Spade gasped a bit as they felt Arclight's servo on their helm but they leaned into them, shoulders shaking. They knew nobody here was going to hurt them. They  _ knew. _ But still they couldn't banish the thoughts of what everyone else could do if they decided they wanted to go at them. Anyone was capable of it. Their friends, the medics, even Arclight, as much as they didn't want to think about it. And they hated it. They hated feeling like everything was a threat. They hated feeling so scared of everything- nothing on this ship scared them, and yet  _ everything _ did. They wanted to stop making people  _ worry _ about them, they wanted to stop feeling so goddamn weak and afraid. It would truly be easier to just get it over with, face their fear once and do themself in but they  _ couldn't _ they didn't want to, even the thought of it twisted their guts inside. 

They were silent for a while, shuddering intermittently until finally they scrubbed their face with a servo-ful of oil and sighed, their ex-vent catching. "Don't see how two other bots being alive here makes  _ me _ safe..." their voice had a bit of a raw edge to it, "I know the people here don't wanna hurt me. I've figured that out. But I don't know they  _ won't. _ An-and I can't convince myself they won't, no matter what I do." Their field flared something distressed and  _ helpless _ for a klik as they stopped themself from sobbing. "The  _ only _ way I've been able to find any sort of... peace of mind is thinking up ways I could hurt people if they tried- the  _ only _ way," their voice was thick now, "I  _ hate _ it." They covered their optics with their servos at last when it became clear to them they couldn't hold tears in any longer, "I don't wanna hurt anyone. I'm  _ done _ doing that." A distorted choking sound twisted its way out of their vocalizer, "I just can't  _ exist _ this vulnerable."

Spade simply shook for a bit, still clearly trying to hold their sobs through their servos. Eventually their shaking died down to a low buzz and they removed their servos from their face. With a shuddering in-vent, they spoke again, "I need- I need help... I need...  _ something. _ "

##  **Betta132** **03/29/2019**

Reaver's vents hitched at the praise and he whimpered softly, lips parted, nuzzling his cheek into Vulcan's. His face was  _ hot _ , hotter than just about anyone else could get, and a few wisps of smoke curled between his lips as he was pinned. Panting, he arched up into Vulcan, searching out contact, and gave a delicious little moan as his legs were spread further. "Nnh- ah, Vulcan-" 

His hips jolted as the tentacles started to push into him, and his valve clenched hard around the unfamiliar sensation, calipers rippling as if to entice them in deeper.  _ Oh _ that was good, and Reaver squirmed a bit, servos gripping Vulcan's tighter for support. One of those teasing little tendrils found a particularly good spot, and Reaver's optics flashed bright, back arching as lubricant slipped past the exploring tendrils to drip from his valve. Vulcan was holding him firm, enough to probably keep him still even if he struggled for real, and the realization sent a stab of pleasure down his spine. Oh,  _ frag _ \- he was held, being pushed into, spread open, with a tendril around his spike and a few others about to-!

It was all the realizations, as much as anything else, that pushed Reaver into overload. A relatively small overload, but he still groaned beautifully, wings fluttering, spike painting his dark stomach with streaks of silver. And, well. Inexperienced or not, he was a Seeker, so it wasn't long before he was squirming against Vulcan again. And, interestingly, he'd stopped trying to hide his face. It was getting  _ much _ harder to be embarrassed. "Oh, that's. Those are. Wow.  _ Oh _ , I made a good choice. And I, ah. Consider...  _ all _ of my open panels to be a request, please?" he purred, flustered but starting to relax further. Hard to be embarrassed when his frame was still tingling. That was about the closest he was going to get to requesting what he wanted right now, though, which was to. Well. He wanted Vulcan to push those tentacles deeper into his valve, and he wanted the ones currently teasing around his aft port to push  _ into _ him, please.

.

##  **Betta132** **03/29/2019**

Quill contemplated Sticks for a moment, then sighed, optic shuttering completely for a moment. "I... can't say I'm not tempted. But I really think I'd just end up... missing things  _ more _ . You know? I'm... not saying 'no', I need to think, but... probably not. I really do appreciate the offer, though, thank you. Uh-" they muttered, then shrugged, leaned in, and bumped their helm gently into Spade's frame. And kept it there. "This, uh. Seems. Appropriate. I'm, uh... not sure what to do, honestly, things here are... different than I was used to. Realized that... there was a lot of  _ repression _ in Autobot culture. I... think I like the... more touching." 

After a second, though, they blinked and leaned back slightly. "That. Doesn't make this any less, uh... just tell me if- if I do anything too weird, please," they requested, though they didn't look like they were about to do anything weirder than nuzzling Sticks. Mostly they were just looking up at Sticks, soft and shy but  _ calm _ . They had been thoroughly distracted from everything else. 

.

Arclight glanced back at Duo, who were both looking to him for guidance, and did not help any. Instead, he grumbled "don' look at me, 'm just a  _ battery _ " and curled around Spade, field rumbling something... darkly amused. Sick and roiling and shoved outward at everyone else like a defense mechanism. Everyone but Spade. 

Duo fidgeted a bit more, then both hauled up enough to expose their subspace pockets and reach inside. "Don't have to  _ hurt _ . Just  _ stop _ . Lots of places between getting hurt and giving hurt. Like glue!" they declared, and offered Spade a flat disk about the size of one twin's servo. "Glue bomb. Trigger, throw at pedes. Big glue puddle. Very fast-drying, but brittle after. Holds for plenty of time to run. If not needed, whoops, but- fine! Nobody hurt, just stuck. Or- this one. Tranq sticky. Great for groups!" they prompted, offering another, rather dome-shaped object that resembled a grenade slightly more. "Throw, and sticks onto plating. Lots of sleep gas everywhere. Harder to avoid, but- get out of range, watch everyone fall over. No more problem. Got some time to figure out what to do. Little bit less funny than just the glue, people... maybe not so happy about drugs, but still fine! Got lots of things for stopping, distracting- for  _ fun _ , and not for hurting."

That was the best they could do here. They couldn't exactly make Spade not tiny. "Best thing we can do- the glue things. Also. Therapy. Should... really do therapy. From real therapists, not chemists. Chemists, sometimes good for depression! But... not so much for... brain full of traumas. Can make soap. Also drinks.  _ Probably _ not good to be drunk about traumas. Probably." 

And then, after a bit more vibrating, both ducked rather apologetically and stayed in place. "Apologies about... wiggling, this, everything. Want to hold, protect, but- clearly bad plan! So... won't touch. Just.  _ Want _ to touch," they explained, and settled for petting the bundle of oil-soaked towel, repeating "won't touch" under their breath a couple more times. They wouldn't!

##  **Malusdraco** **03/29/2019**

Vulcan tensed and shuddered at the way his name slipped through Reaver's lips, the tentacles clenching unexpectedly around their targets- oh it  _ had _ been a while since they'd heard their name uttered so hadn't it. He hummed and pressed himself further into Reaver as the mech overloaded. The trembling pleasure under their fingers was almost enough to put them over the edge themself, but they were determined not to lose focus. Their servos seemed to shake against Reaver's and their field colored a healthy measure of strain until their charge to settle at a volatile simmer. When they pulled away enough to assess their work, they let out a short huff. Seekers and their stamina- Reaver was awfully coherent. Then it would be a challenge. 

"Why of course, darling," Vulcan said as they gathered themself enough to actually appraise. The edging pushed a  _ hunger _ into their field that wasn't there before and their voice had a distorted huskiness to it. They slid a small servo down to push his leg enough to catch some light on their situation. By now each tentacle was significantly thicker and occasionally pulsing out more lube- not unlike the inside of a valve. Each was twitching intermittently now except when the entire organ rippled at once. "I had hoped to wrap you around my finger a bit, darling, but it seems I was a bit too eager-" They shifted a bit to push Reaver further onto the berth, holding up his thighs with their smaller arms, until they were also comfortably on, "Perhaps it's that I'm out of practice but I'll do better this time."

Vulcan held back from Reaver's face to watch his expression as the two dripping tentacles slipped into his aft port. They moved rather forcefully, too as a surge of that hunger rippled through their field. They pressed their hips ever closer to Reaver's as their tentacles surged further into his valve and then abruptly stopped as they shuddered again and their tentacle that curled around his spike, tightened around the base. Vulcan's frame was getting much hotter now against Reaver's as the strain in their field flickered in and out. They leaned back over to trace a thumb up Reaver's cheek and grab the base of his horn before pressing their forehelm against his. 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/29/2019**

"Alright," Sticks said softly. They didn't show the slightest bit of discomfort at the increased contact and in fact shifted to slide an arm under Quill to hug them closer around the shoulders. They smiled and chuckled a bit looking off in remembrance and then returned to watching Quill, "All due respect, Quill, I'm not sure you could  _ do _ anything too weird. You're welcome to  _ try _ of course but the bar is set pretty high." They shook their helm, "Didn't think I was signing up for the exact level of weird I've experienced when I decided to pursue being a medic- not just once but  _ twice _ I've had people  _ lick my servos. _ Barely said two words to them and they go straight for it. I mean- have you met Gravescratch? Huge, too many legs, too many optics, far- _ far _ too many teeth.  _ First _ thing he does when I get close enough is get his whole mouth around one of my servos." An incredulous grimace floated onto their face, "It's a  _ big _ mouth too -don't know how I didn't just faint right there." They chuckled a little longer and continued, "'Course he was gentle. He's not mean at all, just scary looking- little rude though if I'm being entirely honest."

Shaking their helm again, Sticks switched to rubbing gently underneath Quill's antennae, "Anyway- so unless you can top that you've got nothing to worry about. And I agree, everything got much better once we all decided to spend more physical time together." They quieted down and leaned to curl over Quill's helm, humming contemplatively, "It's warm and you can't possibly be alone and it's  _ attention- _ you're being seen and touched. It's- It's good, there's nothing wrong with cuddling."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/29/2019**

Spade took a few shuddering vents and leaned into Arclight's touch. Eyeing the glue bomb with a tired interest- something to think about that wasn't their most obvious vulnerabilities and their innermost fears. Slowly they extended an arm to take it from them. They turned it around in both servos. Making sure it didn't touch the oil, they examined the trigger mechanism, the release- there could be anything in there, they realized, but they weren't about to test it out right here. They wiped a free servo over their face and turned to the twins. "I-" their voice cracked, and they paused for a few kliks. They sounded so  _ pathetic _ -but that was... to be expected, they'd just cried, people did tend to sound pathetic after crying. They took a deep in-vent and cleared their throat, "I like the idea of glue... It's... annoying but harmless." 

Spade spent a few more moments quiet. "I'm sorry, I... huh," they finally murmured, "You're... not responsible for my problems. They're... my problems. I'm talking with Notepad but it's still... hard. I wanna fucking...  _ fix _ myself so maybe I could... hug you two or something eventually." They took a shuddering in-vent, "You're not scary, you're not  _ bad, _ you've helped me- don't have to apologize for being you when it's my dumb processor acting up." They paused to trace a finger around the edge of the device, "I-I wonder how long it takes the glue to harden. If, if maybe some tinkering with the casing will make it near-instantaneous."


	22. Chapter 22

 

Reaver gasped sharply, hips bucking, then groaned long and slow as his optics rolled back in his helm. "Aahhhh- oh, that's- ah-  _ Vulcan _ -" he panted, bucking into the sensation, and squirmed momentarily in an effort to- he wasn't sure, but it would probably involve hiding. His cheek slits were flared wide, his back arched, his wings swept up and trembling in pleasure, and his expression a delicious mixture of surprise, pleasure, and something surprisingly like affection. Lips parted and optics unfocused, he managed to look up at Vulcan for a moment before the embarrassment caught hold, then made a helpless little  _ noise _ and squirmed a bit in an effort to hide his face. Oh, slag, he'd liked being watched in the past but this was a  _ lot _ , and Vulcan was making it hard to  _ think _ . But he knew one thing; as terribly, terribly sexy as it was to be held like this, he wanted- 

"Let- let me hold you," he managed, and squirmed until Vulcan let go of his wrists, then immediately wrapped his arms around Vulcan and held tightly. Partly for support so he could rock more firmly against Vulcan, could  _ take _ the strong tendrils pushing into him, could- could moan helplessly and just about kick Vulcan's back as he was stuffed further, could dig his claws into Vulcan's back and hold on, and oh,  _ Primus _ , some of the nodes in the back of his valve wall were trapped between the tendrils in his valve and the tendrils in his  _ aft _ -

Panting, he squirmed gently against the servos spreading his legs, trying to push his thighs together around the penetration, and whimpered again when he couldn't. It was a  _ good _ noise, though- pleading and thrilled and so very turned on all at once. This wasn't like what he'd done before, wasn't- wasn't thrusting so much as  _ squirming _ , curling and pushing and sliding deeper, and there were  _ no _ comparisons for this, but,  _ wow _ . Yes. Please. He'd love more of this. "Nnhah- Vulcan, I-I am- color me  _ impressed _ , and, please,  _ more _ ." 

.

"Mm. I hope the cuddling stays around as something to do. It's nice, and, ohh, right there." 

Quill gave a contented trill at all the rubbing, squinting happily, and s;coffed gently at Gravescratch's name. "Oh, who gave him the right to be that  _ tall _ . I can't talk to a mech when I'm only up to his  _ shin _ , especially not when he looks like he wants to  _ eat _ me. I-I mean- he's not that bad! Not the  _ most _ polite, but I guess... I-I mean, from what I've gathered, he was raised like a dog. I'm not surprised he's not very polite. I just wish he was a bit less... there's so  _ much _ of him! My goodness. It's like he's a  _ combiner _ and all the components are those... really long-legged, fancy hounds nobles have sometimes. He, uh, he doesn't like to be compared to those, though. I didn't mean it as an insult! But I think he might have  _ smacked _ me if I wasn't. You know. The size of his  _ thigh _ ," Quill muttered, snuggling happilly into Sticks' front. "That's one upside. Nobody big punches a mini. Though I guess it might just be hard to aim at someone who's somewhere around your knee." 

A moment's pause, then they giggled, softly and shakily, field quivering quiet amusement. "I'm very glad he's not going to try to eat me, because I don't know what I'd do if he wanted to! Probably I'd... be eaten. I am not fast. Anyway! Do you... have any of that folk music you want to share?" 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/29/2019**

Duo vibrated a bit more gently, gradually settling down, and opted to mostly focus on things that might be less of an issue. Glue was probably safe to talk about. "Hugs later, then. Now, glue. Is as close to instantaneous as is possible without hardening during release and clogging, or without chemicals causing exothermic reaction of notable heat. Meant to be safe even if on face. Best not in  _ optics _ , but... most things best not in optics." 

They both grinned almost wickedly at Spade, audials lifting, and waggled their brow ridges. "Can test! On- no, not Blackspark. Too busy with baby. Can find someone else to borrow for testing. Good-natured bots, good for tests. Bracer? Probably... no, probably too big. Large bot. Glue works, but not as much, when bots very big. More slowed than stopped. Maybe... who else in right range. Vanguard? Stick Vanguard to floor. Or" a pause, fiddling with both servos in a manner that included a gesture out from one forehelm, indicating a sort of crest, "bot with you- the- with the" more gesturing, like trailing lines, "-Salvo? Borrow Salvo and ask to glue to floor? Can un-glue with solvents, but... best way to prove glue usefulness is to just. Use. Get bot running, throw glue things, watch glue happen. Or mess with other new things. Have bolas-grenades, trying to perfect. Fling ropes everywhere."

That might be fun, finding someone who didn't mind being stuck to things and getting them stuck to things. It was... always a strange type of relieved fun to test perfectly harmless things on perfectly willing bots.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/29/2019**

Vulcan let out a quiet, breathless little moan as he heard his name again. His optics fluttered closed and again all the tentacles seemed to convulse at once. His field surged pleasure. His whole frame tensed as he panted heavily. His charge danced up the gold details on his sides and crackled as it jumped between the gold parts of his frame, making a visible hazy blue halo around his back. With an audible groan, they reigned themself in, pushing their now-unoccupied big arms up onto their elbows. They angled themself around to look again into Reaver's optics, their own bright and blazing, to sputter a reply, "For you, darling, anything."

Reaver wanted more? They would give him everything at once then. Before he could look away again they planted their quivering lips on his and pulled his legs so their hips were almost touching each other. The tentacles in his aft and valve reached in as far as they could, then flipped around and pushed outward against the walls, squirming to hit every node in their path. Te tentacle pleasuring the mech's spike released slightly to quickly wind its way all the way up, finding its niche under the head.The sensitive underside of each tentacle now pressed tight and feeling the lubricant, the charge of Reaver's frame, pushed Vulcan over the edge. They broke away from Reaver's lips to whine as their whole frame curled into his, hips bucking against the other's. The tentacles rippled violently, all at once with surprising strength, gushing both lube and transfluid from invisible openings in the sides. Vulcan leaned into each wave as he came until the convulsions slowed and he found the strength leave his arms.

As the last twitches left each tentacle, Vulcan collapsed onto Reaver's front, fans going as fast as they could, panting heavily in a futile effort to cool their frame. They released their grip on Reaver's horn, instead opting to stroke his face with a shaking servo, their own being buried in the space between his shoulder and neck. 

.

March 30, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/30/2019**

Sticks laughed wryly, "Can get away with a lot when most others' violent reproaches would seriously hurt you.  _ Anyway _ let's see-" Their optics flickered slightly as they combed through their internal files. "Should be..." A moment passed, then another as a frown pinched their face. It was taking an awful long time to find the folder they'd stored their small collection of music files in. Their expression fell as they seemed to hold their breath until- "Oh  _ yes- _ thank Primus." They jolted slightly, field showing quite a bit more outright glee than they let on, "I was worried I might have gotten rid of them but they're  _ here _ it's fine."

Having ascertained that they still had  _ something _ to show Quill as opposed to chancing whatever was already in here (they respected Patches on a profound level which only got deeper the more time they spent around him, but something about the mech told them he probably wouldn't have the best taste in music) they tiredly eyed the sound system hookup all the way on the other side of the room. They didn't want to get up now. It was nice. They were  _ comfortable. _ They'd commit the capital sin of listening to music through improperly balanced speakers if just this once. With a short sigh they retrieved their personal datapad from subspace. They used their free servo to pull a long, thin, datacable from the back of their neck to plug it in. Sure they could play the recordings through their own vocalizer if they wanted to but it wasn't exactly comfortable. Weird, and Quill would find it odd too- better to play it through not-so-good datapad speakers. As they plugged into the 'pad it flickered a bit and came to life with a kind of nervous energy that only interfacing directly with a screen could create. The notepad open as the device onlined closed abruptly when they transferred the files.

"Not as many as I'd like, but I've got a few. Let's see... Oh I remember this one. I- hah-" Sticks snorted and shook their helm, "Oh it's a bit pathetic. I remember I was just  _ enamored _ with this singer- thought his voice was the best out there. Had... more than a bit of a crush on him. Don't think he'd really compare now I've heard Salvo's voice but I remember just getting  _ so _ emotional over this one." A single command and the recording played. It started off with a single voice, strong, powerful and crystal clear ringing out a long note before a backing choir joined in. Within a few kliks it was clear to tell the song was a dirge with high religious undertones. The way the melody passed between the lead singer and the choir felt distinctly old, lingering on the odd harmonic combinations of the beginning of the golden age. It wasn't hard to tell, even to the untrained audial, the sheer skill it took to retain the consistency needed to perform the song. 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **03/30/2019**

Spade thought for a moment, drawing a finger across their chin. They didn't know about testing things on a stranger, but they still weren't sure Salvo didn't hate them. They supposed there was no harm in asking but... they didn't think they'd quite like to hear a 'no.' Finally they looked up at Arclight, "Would... do you wanna try it too? It'd keep us outta the medbay for longer. Dunno how much you like... uhh... you know, weapons-esque stuff. Figure it's better than... I dunno what we'd be doing otherwise- crying? Maybe?" They shook their helm and looked at Duo, "Think I might like that, actually. Want to see what these things can do before I carry them around. And..." a slight smile as their optics softened a bit, "I like the idea of helping. I think I can- When I'm not being... the ship's biggest disappointment, or sad about myself I- I make things. Haven't gotten the chance to since my, uhh, incident, but I dunno, maybe I could use some of those skills again. Dunno how much help you need, but I can offer it."

##  **Betta132** **03/30/2019**

Reaver's claws dug into Vulcan's back and held at the onslaught of sensations, his whole frame tensing as his processor tried to properly sort the rush of data. It felt like it should have hurt, suddenly being stuffed so  _ full _ , but between his own lubricant and Vulcan's he was slick to the point of  _ dripping _ . Panting, he braced himself as well as he could against the berth and rocked up against Vulcan, calipers quivering, legs tight around the other's frame, and grinned as it  _ clicked _ . Ah, was it- 

It  _ was _ Vulcan's name doing the trick, he realized, but only dimly. Mostly because everything else had been pushed out of his mind by the flood of  _ heat _ deep inside him, and by the kiss that was probably a few degrees away from burning his partner's lips. Gasping, he pawed at Vulcan's back with both servos, calipers clamping, and overloaded a moment after. This time, hard. His optics flashed brilliantly, every bio-light in his frame flared, and he clutched Vulcan tight against him, shuddering and keening out a long, shaky moan.

Ohh. Primus. Groaning weakly, he curled onto his side to clutch Vulcan close, whining a bit as his over-sensitive valve was stimulated. And his  _ aft _ , dear Pit! That was more than he'd really had in mind, but he had  _ absolutely _ no complaints, and... heh. A soft chuckle, and he rubbed gently at the claw marks he'd inadvertently left, field flickering something exhausted and fond. "You... wow, slag. Y' really like your  _ name _ , huh. Nnh, thaaat's...  _ frag _ , why don't  _ more _ people have these," he groaned, clenching down against the. Well. The  _ tentacles _ . And there was the embarrassment again- Reaver hissed an embarrassed noise and tried to hide his burning face in Vulcan's throat. He- he might have an idea trying to form, but it wasn't going to get much of anywhere for a little while, not with... ooh, Pit, this was going to be a mess. 

.

"I could- I do have a few empty disks," Quill offered softly as Sticks worked. "They can hold a lot, if all you want on them is music. I can etch one for you if you want. It's really no trouble, and I don't have to transform. Or... move, not really. Not for long." 

The music started, and their optic unfocused a bit, then shuttered, and they settled down against the couch. They didn't exactly have the musical refinement to quite note the issues with the speakers, either! They could have picked out better speakers on listening if it had been offered, but this still sounded nice enough. It  _ flowed _ , swung back and forth between main and choir, overflowing with metallic shades and colors something akin to an artist's idea of water. "Oh," they whispered, antennae quivering, and cracked open their optic enough to peek up at Spade. "Silver, green, and... something like how a prism shimmers in sunlight. Opalescence. It's... really pretty, I see why you liked him." 

Something hit them all of a sudden, and the couch made a tiny 'thunk' noise as they planted their face in it, field flicking  _ amusement/resignation _ . "Oh, some of my metaphors probably don't make a lot of sense to people, do they? I thought  _ everyone _ saw the colors, goodness. Comparing someone to the colors in a song. I promise it makes sense to me!" they giggled, then uncovered one arm slightly, glancing up at Sticks. "I can- I'm not sure if it would translate over right, if it's... some kind of malfunction, but... would you like to see? I could try to show you. If I can navigate my own firewalls, they're... a little odd. Got tweaked when I got my job, to keep people from getting at the data I processed, so they're sort of fussy about other people. They won't- won't  _ hurt _ you or anything! I just have to... get them to cool down some before you can see." 

.

##  **Betta132** **03/30/2019**

"Less weapon, more... defensive prank," Duo shrugged, then... scoffed? Something-like-scoffed, at least, at Spade. "Not a disappointment. Trauma mess. Different. Besides- disappointment means  _ expectations _ . Only expectations here, things like not murdering crewmates. No murders, no disappointment. Bad self-talk," they scolded, flicking oil droplets gently at Spade. They'd gotten that from Notepad. Had to be careful what you called yourself, otherwise it stuck in. "Building-things help, welcomed! Trying to make better rope-throwers. Good for people, but also for bitey things. Snare animal, run away, animal gets loose later no problem. Insecticons, big bitey organic things, miscellaneous. Not great at the rope grenades yet. Got propellants! Just not best shape. Lots of tangling." 

Arclight squinted at the grenade-disk-thing, then up at Duo, then groaned and sunk a bit lower into the oil. "Hhfh, fuck. Wanna... wanna glue some fraggers. Don' wann' move. Fuckin'... warm. It's. Good. Gotta... scrub all them ghosts out," he muttered, one servo vanishing from Spade's frame to rub at his own chassis plating. It was burning a lot less, but it was still burning. Not like before, the staticky sensation of scorched nerve endings still trying to fire off properly. Just... ache. Almost,  _ almost _ like how a scar ought to feel. But... Spade was... doing something. Wanted to do something. Arclight didn't disagree! Just. "Couple kliks?"

March 31, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **03/31/2019**

Vulcan continued to try to catch their breath while holding Reaver close. They brought a servo up to pet the back of his helm and laughed tiredly, a baffled blush coloring their face, "Suppose I do. S'been a while -been a  _ long _ while since someone's... called to me quite like that." A few more deep vents and their frame finally started to cool down. The tentacles at Reaver's array went mostly limp. They pulled away just enough to see what they could of the mech's face, granted it was hidden by their own anatomy. Humming softly they stroked his cheek with a small finger, " _ my _ darling you run hot, don't you," their voice was tender, near-breathless, "There's no need to be embarrassed, though I find it appealing. Not as jaded as those I've interfaced with in the past." Their fingers traced up his helm to gently rub around the bases of his horns as their field colored something distinctly more affectionate, "Enthusiasm to warm the spark, a face that could compete with the stars, I could sing your praises to Cybertron and back and I still wouldn't be through. You did well darling, thank you for this." 

Were they laying it on a bit thick? Possibly, but not intentionally, Vulcan thought as they clutched Reaver closer. Post-frag hormones, probably, combined with him being their first sexual encounter since the weeks before they fled Cybertron and their first overwhelmingly  _ positive _ sexual encounter since long before that. They didn't quite feel like letting go of the mech any time soon, and that they were sure of. They hummed again, inching the side of their face down Reaver's, "As for your question, I imagine it's a combination of the expense of the procedure and the very real reality of being handed your own grown spike and shown how to slot it back into your frame-not the most comfortable of pictures." They paused to lightly kiss Reaver on the audial. Closing their optics they in-vented deeply, "You smell so delightful when you're worked up."

.

April 1, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/01/2019**

Sticks hummed a little bit at the offer. They'd  _ dealt _ with high security firewalls before, usually by sidestepping them for another method (invade the backup machine, create a backdoor, they thought they were clever)- too much risk of a nasty counterattack, especially when it came to the invasive nature of frame hacking. They were pretty sure they could get in without assistance, but that was rude, and they weren't about to alarm someone who was not only vulnerable but someone they were trying to make friends with. They supposed it was worth a talk, a very careful talk. 

"If I ever find enough music to burn to a disk I'll take you up on that offer for sure, don't think I've got... quite enough here." Sticks said, "And I think I would like to see, at least because it seems nice to look at. I wonder if it'll translate to my optical feed or  _ how. _ It could be an experiment of sorts! We could figure out where the glitch that causes it is! N-not that we'd  _ do _ anything with that information exactly, except maybe think about it a bit. Suppose it'd be useful if it ever started causing problems..." they trailed off, realizing they'd gone off-topic. A moment's pause as they tried to think of a way to naturally bring the conversation back to where Quill had started it but found nothing. Another moment to stew in their awkwardness and they cleared their throat, "Anyway, whatever you're comfortable with, really. I've got a program that allows for a two-way sensory tap, comes with a nice interface, in case... that's something you'd like to use."

.

April 2, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/02/2019**

Spade sat for a moment and watched Arclight. "As long as you want," they said, nodding, their voice soft, "I need to get out, though, was never really one for baths and I keep getting this annoying overheating warning I should probably deal with." 

They waded over to Arclight's side and heaved themself up on the edge of the bath, watching the rivulets of oil trickle around their bare stomach cables. It was still nasty to see, they still hated it, but... at least the crawling was gone. They leaned forward to let the oil drain out of their abdominal cavity- plusses and minuses. Took a klik to realize they were flashing Duo, again, a bit more draining, this time giving their spike a quick look-over just in case, and they closed up their panel at last. That was fine. What vital plating they had left was warm, and stayed so even as the cool of the ship's air hit their muscle cables. They kicked their legs a bit in the oil and leaned over to rub the top of Arclight's helm. 

Spade thought a bit about what Duo had said, "things like grenades on ropes are tricky to throw, have you considered some sort of launcher? Pit- you could make one that shoots glue. Tricky to time, though. Would have to have the right trigger mechanism."

##  **Betta132** **04/02/2019**

"Oh, that's my- here," Reaver hummed, leaning his helm away from Reaver slightly, and opened his mouth just enough to huff out a fingers-length of flame. "It tends to happen when... ah, Primus, you've hit on the perfect circumstance," he declared, and hid his face in Vulcan's throat again. "I do rather wish it wasn't so  _ obvious _ , I could get away with no visible blush otherwise. Otherwise, I-I find myself, ah. Well," he chuckled, snuggling up against Vulcan, and quietly hoped that his face wasn't too painfully hot. He wasn't exactly going to be able to not blush, not with- with Vulcan still- 

Shaking a bit with near-silent laughter, he muttered something about "they were missing out" and gave the other bot a gentle squeeze, servos finally moving away from the scratch marks he'd been investigating. "Mm. My apologies. I shall do my best to fix this... though I think I may need to stay like this for a little while. I am glad to please, you" a soft little laugh "definitely have more experience with this than I do." 

Kink was fun. He was... really going to have to try out a few more things, wasn't he? The idea of trying to suck on one of those tendrils was appealing as anything, but seemed... difficult. Still. Might be... something to do. Or try some of the  _ others _ , wow. And then the  _ praise _ . He was going to have to up his game! Servos flexing against Vulcan's frame, he hummed contemplatively and stroked lightly, fans turning over idly as he pondered new ideas. "Mm. You know, I... may not be able to exchange my equipment for anything terribly exotic, but I do have  _ some _ skill. Consider this a suggestion for... some later point, but... would you like to trade positions at some point? Because I am, I suspect, strong enough to... shall we say, maneuver you into position. If you would enjoy it." 

.

"It is worth a try, I think," Quill decided, shifting a bit, then dipped their helm and uncovered the set of plugs at its base. Generally for medical access. "My arms are trapped, and I don't think I want to uncover them right now," they explained, voice a bit muffled by having their face shoved into the nearest objects. They had a set of small plugs suitable for their size, and then a couple of larger ones- more like you'd see on the average-sized bot. Fairly standard for data processors of most types to have an assortment of plug sizes. "Nice not to have to worry about adapters. Try it now." 

There was a path through the coding, they knew, and they'd managed to sort that out. When Sticks' presence registered, there was no true resistance. The firewalls were present, there was a sort of awareness of them, but they weren't in the way. Which meant Quill's presence, soft and timid but welcoming, could guide Sticks deeper in and show them the sensory input.

Sensory data, if properly given, could be seen in one of two ways by a visitor. Either it could be seen as raw data, or as what the processor interpreted. The former could contain details that the processor might overlook, but was more to deal with, and there was no guarantee that the visitor's processor wouldn't also overlook something. The latter, which was what Quill offered here, was a tidy and clear mental image, but lacked the occasional detail that the processor had considered unimportant. 

Here, the particularly interesting thing was the visual input. Quill couldn't actually see anything right now- their face was smushed into Sticks' general area, and their optic was shut. But their processor was convinced that something was here to be seen, so there was visual data, and it was all colors and fluctuating patterns. 

.(edited)

##  **Betta132** **04/02/2019**

Arclight leaned into Spade a bit, scoffing gently as the twins made odd faces, then glanced back at them and smirked. Okay. To be fair, there was a lot of naked going on. 

"Enough naked for  _ many _ people," Duo complained under their collective breath, looking everywhere except at Spade, but didn't complain too much. Some kind of thing was happening here with Spade and armor. Best to just... ignore that, probably, and talk shop. Shop-ish. "Trying to make grenade explode into ropes. Hard to do without shrapnel, shattering, misdirection of ropes. Trying to  _ not _ stab people with shrapnel. Might try crossbow-style launcher? Disk that fragments midair into ends of rope? Have" a pause, fishing into subspace, and each retrieved a simple bolas. Three lengths of strong rope, knotted together at a center point, with weights on the end. "-bolas. Swing around, throw, wraps around legs. Takes time to spin, though. Might be a good way to fling with machinery. Glue launcher..." a pause, and a bit of servo-wobbling. "Fun, but too hard to keep from clotting.  _ Water _ launcher, very fun. Glue, not so much. Grenades, single-use, no clotting worries! Just... have to keep making new. Also have gas grenades. Mostly sedatives, smoke,"

They fidgeted for a moment, seemingly in thought, then offered Spade a smoke grenade each. "No nasty things" that they were going to use on most people or admit to, anyway, "just distraction, sedative. Some with poison-look and unpleasant feel in vents, make people panic and run. Bad smells for Insecticons. Flash grenades for Sparkeaters. No explodey kind- too unpredictable, too much breaking. Some magnetic! A few, riot-stopping agent. Sedative, bit of enjoying-drugs, small touch of affection things. Makes people calm, sleepy, want to touch and hug instead of fight. No  _ roofies _ , just- fogginess," Duo explained, each gesturing with at least one servo at their own face/helm area. "Many grenades with magnetics! Stick to target." 

They didn't like standard grenades. Brutal things. Too violent. If you had to kill someone, well... why not a poison instead? Probably easier on them than being blown up, and it scared other people more. You could choose your target area much more efficiently, too. 

Duo still didn't like to hurt anyone. But, if they had to, they could.

April 3, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/03/2019**

"I think I would, you know," Vulcan sighed sweetly as they played their fingers against the back of Reaver's neck, "I'm quite sure you'd perform admirably. I would have to agree, though, I don't know if I have the stamina to go another round quite like that tonight." They hummed slightly and switched to scratching under his jaw, "You let me know when you're up for it, then, hmm? I'm not so worried about scratched plating either, that's a problem I can certainly solve on my own time. Unless... that's something you'd like to do yourself. I don't think I'd quite mind that, I like spending time with you."

Chuckling lightly, Vulcan shifted just enough to get comfortable on the berth, "Though I suppose there's Puppet to think about. I do wonder what they'll make of distinctly scuffed paint. Suppose I shouldn't  _ bother _ trying to hide it. Which-hmm." They turned slightly to glance at the door, "I wonder what they're up to, now. Hopefully nothing dangerous. I trust Aponogee not to purposefully lead them somewhere dangerous but... I don't get the sense either of them know enough to  _ know _ what's going to be dangerous. I... Oh perhaps I've been selfish. I should be watching over them, making sure they don't get  _ hurt. _ " Their field clouded slightly with worry as their voice softened to a concerned murmur, "I don't know what I'd do if they did."

.

Sticks was patient as Quill guided them through their processor, still keeping their guard up in case Quill's self-defense systems kicked in subconsciously-not impossible. They'd brought a relatively benign datashield with them over the connection-just in case. They were about to say something about relative security when Quill's visual feed flooded into theirs. Instinctively they closed their optics to keep from the headache of crossed streams. 

Sticks's field and quiet gasp let on their surprise, "That's... wow." They tilted their head to lean in closer, as if they could will someone else's optics to zoom in on something, or that one could even  _ get _ a better look at synesthetic reactions. "You see this all the time, then? Or is it just music? Or-or is it just good music?" They laughed a bit and cocked their helm again, "Does good music look  _ better? _ Or- I guess, you probably like music that looks good to you, right? I've- I've got a recording in mind." The idea came to them suddenly- one of a handful of recordings with simply  _ dates _ on them, not the neat names and descriptions, "It's somewhat of a selfish request now that I can  _ see _ what you're seeing but I'll stand by that I think he's very good, still."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/03/2019**

Spade took a single smoke grenade from one of them, setting the glue trap carefully on the edge next to them, and again set to examining it. "Shrapnel's hard to avoid," They pondered, turning the grenade around in their servos, "that is, if you don't use something organic as your casing. Soft casing- something like hardened gelatin. Or something that would be destroyed by the launching blast-paper or something. Course you sacrifice portability- a lot of these materials don't do well with water- but. I don't think it's impossible to do with the right internal structure." They vaguely considered testing the magnetism in the smoke bomb with their own frame but decided against it-too much potential to misalign something. "Not exactly a materials expert but I had to make do with organic materials for... quite a while. Bug parts. Anyway, what if you combined the bolas with the glue? Have a timer triggered by the angular momentum of a throw that releases the glue when it's near or around the target's legs. Could get the advantages of both."

Spade sat back, their voice was still wavering slightly as they talked but it felt good to separate themself from the conversation, "You ever considered something that, I dunno, foams up and hardens? Could be better to deal with the more wild things you come across. Something shot, explodes into a bunch of foam that would expand around the thing's legs and let you get away from it. Though-  _ wait _ how many sparkeaters have you come across where you need a weapon  _ for _ them?" They looked down just a bit to offer the smoke bomb to Arclight- weren't about to leave them out of the conversation even though they didn't seem too invested.

##  **Betta132** **04/03/2019**

Reaver made a fairly inarticulate noise of pleasure, optics shuttering briefly, and rubbed around the edges of the plates in Vulcan's back. "I would like to tend to these myself. It feels...  _ irresponsible _ , otherwise. Or, at the very least, rude. And, Puppet... well, the engine room is locked. The... one and a half labs, same, as well as the private rooms. There isn't too much else they could get up to. At worst..." well, admittedly, at worst Puppet could get crushed by some crates in the hold. But, to avoid further upsetting Vulcan, "at worst, they'll fall off of something and dent themself somewhere. And they seem rather social, the both of them, so- presumably they'll be somewhere with other people, who can steer them away from anything too risky. They should be fine. And, no, it is not selfish to want some form of time spent  _ not _ caring for someone else. Puppet is... well, something like an adult. And, even if they weren't- people do get babysitters. Leave Puppet to their own devices for a little while, and... enjoy  _ your _ devices. Hm?" he purred, and leaned in to nuzzle against Vulcan's forehelm. "Comfortable? I have some energon, if you need the meal. I may need something to drink later, but, mm... I would rather have you," he whispered, and, shyly, kissed Vulcan on the lips. 

.

Quill's field pulsed quiet contentment and something sweet up at Sticks, at the enjoyment of their evidently-unusual thing, and they trilled a gentle noise to Sticks. "I'd love to hear! It's... almost entirely music. Now and then a sound is, I suppose, close enough to music. But, for most purposes, only music. Show me," they purred, snuggling into Sticks' frame, and quietly relished having someone to- well, someone to hold,  _ period _ , but  _ especially _ someone near their size. Sticks was small and good for hugging. This... this was good. "And I shall... search my files to see if I have any music of my own to share. I could swear I had some, but some of my files are rather... muddled." 

Sticks was  _ warm _ , and this whole thing was as close as they got to perfect lately. Mm. Perfect. Warm, affectionate, and Sticks was  _ touching _ them! The touching was excellent. "And... a request? If you still have the coordination... keep stroking my antennae as you were before? It feels  _ good _ . No one has small enough servos to do this!" 

.

"Soft metal and plastic materials. Shrapnel, still exists, just... less  _ deadly _ ," Duo shrugged, scratching lightly at another smoke grenade's shell with a claw apiece. It gave easily. "Mostly harmless. Just stings. Issue with ropes is mostly tangling, lack of direction. Turns into weird bundle of motions everywhere. Might be worth testing others? Foam- fun! Often hot, but entirely possible! Sparkeaters," a shudder and a grimace from each of them, "only one, but made an  _ impression _ . Flash grenades, also good for most other things with optics! Nothing likes flash of light in face. Possibly good on Soundwave? Never tried, but- spy bot, probably not great with light. And... this bot, not great with situation. Probably ought to. Something." 

Yes, someone probably ought to "something", as Arclight seemed to be having a bit of an issue. He'd sunk down enough to push his face into Spade's chassis and was  _ shaking _ , field radiating what was mostly irritation and dismay with an undercurrent of something dark and nameless. Oh, Primus. Great! They were falling apart in front of more people! 

The appropriate response to that realization was probably not to aim a rude gesture at the other people, but that was what happened. Followed by Arclight muttering "happens. fuckoff." up at them. This had been happening! Pretty much ever since they'd found themself alone on the ship with nothing but a corpse, they'd been alternating between violent productivity (mostly trying to ruin everything related to a decorating scheme), sleeping, and... whatever this was. Panicking? It didn't feel like panicking, but most other things that felt something like this weren't as  _ sudden _ , so Primus only knew what this was supposed to be. 

"Emotions?" Duo ventured, blinking at Arclight, then waited for him to glance at them and, well. Returned more rude gestures. That seemed like the thing to do here!

Arclight made a weird, smothered noise of something like amusement, and offered Duo another, ruder gesture. Okay! This was what was happening! He was doing some kind of a panicky thing, and evidently there were crude gestures involved. Fun.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/03/2019**

Vulcan's response was hesitant at first, the worst case certainly  _ wasn't _ simply a few dented plates, it was whatever could happen should Puppet have one of their fits. The worry hadn't really left the back of their mind since they'd arrived. They weren't sure what others would  _ do _ exactly. They hoped at least the bot had enough forewarning to find someplace secluded before it got too bad. But they didn't know -couldn't know- what to expect. They couldn't very well  _ ignore _ the heat on their lips, though, as much as they worried, there was the here and now- a delightful mech who'd made a generous move. After a few kliks they leaned into Reaver's kiss, grasping him gently by the side of the helm. 

When they finally pulled away it was only due to the heat. Their optics sparkled a bit, "You may have as much of me as you'd like, darling." They nuzzled their way down his cheek and planted a couple short kisses on his neck, "Suppose it's only proper I dedicate this time to you and you alone." They hummed contemplatively and pressed their face into Reaver's jaw, "Had this not been such a spur-of-the moment decision, I would have taken you out first. Call me old-fashioned but I quite like the courting part of interface. Of course if that's not something you're comfortable with I'm all for simple house calls, but what do you think of going out before, next time, making a  _ night _ of it? Hmm?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/03/2019**

"Ah, right!" Sticks said, feeling their way around Quill's neck until they figured out where their antennae were, "And I... definitely understand muddled files. It took some pretty hefty consequences for me to go through the trouble of keeping everything organized- at which point it... became a bit of a nervous habit." They laughed a bit. Nothing quite like finding a virus someone planted in your system weeks after. 

"But... right," Sticks took a deep breath, they hadn't needed these recordings in a long time. They served almost like beacons, small patches of happiness in an expanse of suffering. Well-worn. The recording started up with the cut off end of a syllable. A few moments of relative silence gave way to quiet humming and it became clear from the audio quality and reverberation, it wasn't done in a studio, but rather a large room with hard walls. And then the music started and Sticks's field fluttered bittersweet. Salvo's voice had filled the room easily, bouncing off the tall walls in a way that seemed to cover the listener in sound. It was a popular song at some point, nothing like the rest of what Sticks had, a simple, easy to recreate melody, made to be belted out with reckless abandon. It was clear from Salvo's voice he was holding nothing back, letting out all that stress he tended to carry in his chassis, each breath tinged at the edges with desperation and relief. A few verses in and the careful audial could tell he was  _ smiling _ too, while he did it. 

It was then that Sticks shifted to press their face in the couch. They trembled slightly as their field flooded with a tearful joy and love powerful enough it caught in their throat. Their servo around Quill's antenna slowed, but didn't stop. 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/03/2019**

Spade's optics widened and they froze for the briefest moment until they realized that what they  _ wanted _ to do might actually help in this case. They bent over Arclight, offering the hollow between their chassis and stomach should he want to stick his whole face somewhere and then, well, did what they did before. They moved deliberately, in ways that could be easily telegraphed and stopped if necessary, and reached around to rub his jaw and the very top of his neck. They wished they had something wise to say but they still, even after everything, had no idea what to do with feelings. So, they decided to go with the mood.

"Hey you, don't you fucking feel ashamed over this, alright? Just don't- you shouldn't. It's ghosts. Fuck em," Spade said, trying to be casual but unable to hide a certain amount of concern in their voice, "I'd kick em right outta you if I knew how but I haven't figured that out yet." They paused as an idea seeped into their head. Was this a trigger? Arclight was fine just a minute ago, it was sudden enough. But what could have caused it? They seemed  _ fine _ most of the conversation, so it probably wasn't the grenade talk. The only new things they were really talking about were foam, ropes and- "Was it sss..." They trailed off. Good idea to say the word they were thinking of again? Probably not. They squinted their optics and petted a bit more vigorously. What were they going to  _ do? _

First, they supposed, alert Duo,  _.:I think it was talk of sparkeaters:. _ they commed Scissor,  _.:if you don't know why I think so then take my word on it. Change of subject needed:. _ They weren't about to coo something to Arclight about how everything was alright- it seemed to condescending at this point, pit maybe he needed it though. Or maybe he needed something else to think about. But what could be jarring enough to pull Arclight from his ghosts? Spade turned their helm to look at Duo, "Say, you two overload at the same time?- You're twins, you should." Their voice was just the slightest bit put-on, but their optics showed a silent plea.

  
  


Reaver groaned a long, slow, content noise and rubbed gently along the back of Vulcan's helm, curling slightly around the other mech. "Mm, and I think I would like a great deal of you for now. As for courting... it does sound pleasant. Though, I confess, I don't have much experience with... anything between a casual and moderately embarrassed proposition, and the sort of thoroughly dramatic courtship that I occasionally got to watch when members of my Order fell for each other. I know there  _ is _ a middle ground, but I'm afraid I don't have much practice in it. Which means" a pause so he could kiss Vulcan's helm "I welcome your experience. It's certainly worked out well for me so far. So, yes, I am perfectly comfortable... ah, as long as we're clear that, ah," how to put this politely? "I'm not exactly... in the market for anything that's intended to be something past mutual enjoyment. Not as far as I'm aware, at least." 

There. That sounded fine. He liked Vulcan, he did! He just wasn't sure if this ws... flirting for  _ reasons _ , or just flirting for fun. And he didn't particularly feel like trying to actually date anyone. No one he'd met, at least. Not yet. 

.

_ Oh _ . Quill's field fluttered a soft sort of reassurance to Sticks in instinctive response, and they curled up close, optic still shut to fully enjoy the colors. The volume, the  _ emotion _ put deep purples and reds into it, swirling and surging like ocean waves, and Quill's field began to fluctuate in time with it. "Oh, this one could be a  _ sparkbreaker _ with the right song," they told the couch, and squirmed a bit, still under the blankets, to more or less embrace Sticks. It seemed like the right thing to do here, with what Sticks' emotions were doing. "He sounds really good. And..." a pause, antennae lifting in a sort of squint, "familiar? Was he ever... on any sort of public broadcast? I-I swear I've... heard this voice somewhere. Any... ideas? Who is this?" they asked quietly, antennae quivering a bit in consideration. They could swear they'd heard this voice before! Who was it?

Maybe if the bot was talking instead of singing, it would be a bit easier, but people didn't tend to record conversations. Usually. There was that one little microphone-bot, poor thing had been some variety of paranoid and recorded everything, but that was an exception.

.

##  **Betta132** **04/04/2019**

_.:Right. Something happened. Can avoid:. _

Duo were about to say something, but started sputtering instead, both giggling a bit at the sudden change in topic. One more than the other. Syringe looked flustered more than anything, the silver half of his face flushed adorably, then they both winked and stuck their tonguetips out at Spade. Their  _ forked _ tonguetips. Normally the tips stayed up together so they could speak clearly, but some people seemed to find it cute to see the fork. Or  _ tempting _ , which was what Scissors had in mind. Okay! Playful flirting! "Yes!" Scissors chirped, squeezing his (vaguely shyer) twin close, and glanced down to check if Arclight was watching. They were, so Scissors winked again and did something  _ very _ lewd with his glossa and the V of two fingers, despite the sputtering from Syringe. 

Arclight lifted his helm slightly to eye the two properly, then snuggled into Spade again, almost-humming contemplatively as he rocked in an effort to settle. That had helped sometimes. Just... hold something, and rock. Slowly. Watch anything available. It had been stars, before. He liked the stars. Chemist-twins? Cuter than stars. Little forked tongues. He wanted a taste, almost. Didn't quite want to be touched, but they were such cheerful things. Looked weird, he still wasn't sure what was up with the patterns, but the faces were cute and they were friendly. He... kinda wanted to touch them. Just a bit. Wanted to kiss them, maybe. Never kissed someone with a forked tongue. With an effort, he lifted his helm again, rocked back, and eyed Duo again, licking his lips. "Bet that's... good onna node." 

Did Arclight want their attention? No, probably not, so- best not to offer anything. They were both still blushing slightly, though, Syringe more, and, hm. The playful flirting seemed to be good. "Systems work in sync. Means  _ perfect _ coordination. Lots of fun for all involved. Got good toys, tricks- lots of squirming for everyone."

##  **Malusdraco** **04/04/2019**

Vulcan nodded gently, "Of course, darling. I'll confess while I have a fair bit of experience in the... finer aspects of interpersonal connection, there are still areas that elude me. I can speak the language of love but haven't truly... figured out how to understand it. The draw of amorous attraction burns too long and low for me to get a good look. I'll let you know if I ever spot any, though." A smile flitted across their face, which quickly turned slightly sheepish, "If it's ever too much you tell me, alright? I'll admit I can get carried away. It's just-" They shifted slightly to reach around and trail their fingertips along the backside of Reaver's wing, "I've been with far too many who treat interface as some sort of... mutually beneficial service. Like it's something professional, impersonal- while of course there exist professionals, I've known a few- those I'm referring to, they  _ weren't. _ "

Vulcan shook their helm and sighed, "I wouldn't fault anyone for seeking that out, but... it doesn't sit right with me. We should  _ revel _ in each other's presence, shouldn't we? Even moreso now than before the war- after all we're both  _ alive, _ isn't that astounding? Our paths crossed despite everything and now we're here together, occupying the same space, should that not be savored?" they brought a finger up to trace along Reaver's cheek, their voice got softer, more earnest, "Should that not be  _ celebrated? _ "

.

"Oh it is beautiful, isn't it?" Sticks pressed their forehelm into the top of Quill's, their voice wavering slightly, "He's my best friend-or, one of them." They paused a moment to admire the colors again, it was almost like listening to the song for the first time again, "He's here-on the ship that is. You might have heard him talking at some point. Salvo, he's big and red. Nowadays he's usually with another bot, Red -also red, or, mostly- wears a blindfold most of the time." They sighed and reached up to wipe their optic before returning to Quill's audials, "I'm sorry, it's just been a while since I've listened to this one, I don't think I've heard him quite let loose like this since. He sounds so... happy." Another trembling wave, this time their field filled a kind of melancholy, "We'd just found a new place to hide out- caught him testing the acoustics on his own. I don't know if he knows I have this- don't know if he knew I was there."

Sticks was quiet as they sat through their emotions until they passed and finally sighed, "He keeps talking about starting up a band here, I can only  _ hope. _ He's not doing it in this recording but he's got this fantastic voice thing, maybe someday you'll get to hear it."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/04/2019**

"Oh you look the squirming type," Spade tossed back, before looking down at Arclight. Was it working? Maybe? They leaned over to set the side of their helm against the top of Arclight's and set their other servo to rubbing around his audial. They didn't have much left to distract with, they realized. Their processor was too busy mulling over that Arclight wasn't alright. They started up that quiet motor-hum of a purr in hopes it might help but otherwise were drawing a blank. They in-vented to speak at last, though quietly, to Arclight alone, "I-uhh, you can hug me as close as you want-if you want. I won't be embarrassed or anything- not that it's anything to be embarrassed about." 

Permission granted, hopefully now Arclight would feel free to do what  _ they _ knew would help them. Spade looked over at Duo again, "Someone ever strap on a second dick and spike you both at once? Would that even be  _ possible? _ W-wait" they narrowed their optics, "Do you- you feel the same things, right? Would that even be, uh, necessary? What do you call interface with another person, is it automatically a threesome or does split-spark count as only one person? You ever tried a  _ foursome? _ " At this point they were just saying anything that came to mind. If something worked even the slightest bit, it was worth doing many times over.

April 5, 2019

##  **Betta132** **04/05/2019**

Reaver's optics glinted and he muttered "so is 'interpersonal connection' the term for that or what" with a quick glance down at their crotches, then hummed contentedly and leaned his wing into Vulcan's servos. "Well within my comfort zone right now. For my part- do let me know if I miss any cues. You may have to make them less 'cues' and more 'outright statements'. And... mutually beneficial, absolutely, but I find it hard to see how this could be  _ impersonal _ ."

Really- how would someone do that? How did you make interface impersonal? Just be... rude and inconsiderate and make it all about you? Huh. Reaver blinked, looking mildly confused, and leaned somewhat absently into Vulcan's stroking as he thought. "I don't think I could make interface impersonal if I tried. Especially since... you're right, you know, we should be delighted to be alive. Even if it is in spite of... so, so much. And so  _ many _ -" 

His vents hitched sharply, and he brought a servo up to cover his face as tears began to gather in his optics. "Oh. I'm- I'm sorry. I still have some- some mourning left in me, I suppose," he chuckled, soft and sad, and gathered up his field so as not to flood Vulcan in his sorrow. "Ohh, my prior partners are all almost certainly dead, and it is not what one would call a  _ sexy _ thought, I do apologize." 

.

##  **Betta132** **04/05/2019**

"Please encourage him," Quill declared into the couch, "his voice is beautiful and he would benefit greatly from backup. I can't sing and I don't think I can lift most instruments, let alone play them, but I can be encouraging if that would help at all. I think I've seen him? Though I was a bit more worried about staying out of the way of the other bot, wasn't sure if the poor dear could tell where I was." 

They thought for a moment, then lifted their helm to raise their antennae at Sticks. "He  _ is _ attractive, isn't he? I am not at all surprised you had some form of crush on him. Looks like he could play the role of a dashing love interest in  _ several _ different genres. I'd rather like to... oh, I'm- I'm sorry, pardon me, making assumptions. May- may I ask, is he the mech you mentioned before, or...? I-I won't tell him, either way! I don't gossip. Generally," they added, quietly, ducking their helm slightly and lifting one blanket-covered claw. They could probably pet nicely enough like this. You know, hopefully. Worth a try.

.

Arclight, to the surprise of absolutely no one, snuggled firmly up against Spade's frame. Careful, though, this time- aware of, and cautious of, Spade's size. There was a shake somewhere in his shoulders, but he wasn't shuddering all over, and didn't seem to be heading that way. In fact, he answered Spade's purr with a little purr of his own, face tucked into their frame but turned away slightly so he could watch Duo. The blushing was still very cute." 

" _ Two _ dicks, no," Scissors shrugged, giving Syringe a gentle little squeeze. "Doesn't like spikes much. Only one dick needed.  _ Have _ two, though. Not one bot, no- different people!" they protested softly, but without any real bite. "Two processors! Also, too many arms for one person. Sensory input..." a moment of wiggly servo gestures "depends on focus. Strong, but not  _ quite _ the same as personal input, not usually. Just have fun with coordination. Also with number of arms- lots of ways to lift and hold partner. No foursome, no, but" a pause, a wink, and a surge of their field meant to point out that this was playful and not terribly serious, then Scissors nudged Syringe until he muttered "is that an offer?" 

Not the worst thought! But... probably a bad idea. While they were on the subject, though, did they want to show off their toys? A quick glance at each other, internally debating it with each other, then the twins leaned in a bit closer with a gleam in their collective gaze. "Got toys, got tricks. Get as much fluid as possible and make treats to share with partner. Transfluid- good candy component! Lots of flavor, conductivity. Tricks to get extra fluid out of partner, and extra squirming. Want to look at tricks? Ah-" the slightest retreat, just in case, "-probably not in use. Just to look at. Everything nice and clean! Never put away dirty tools. Contaminants."

##  **Malusdraco** **04/05/2019**

"Oh- oh dear don't apologize," Vulcan murmured, quickly but softly moving to pull Reaver into a tighter hug, "We all must take our turn, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Just... take your time." They weren't about to try to stop him or quiet him down- no use in that, better to let him simply feel. They all had quite a lot of mourning left in them. A soft sigh, "I'm beginning to think there will never quite be enough tears- not for everyone... Perhaps not truly even for one."

Vulcan took a deep breath and collected themself to project a remarkable calm through their field. It was a skill they'd learned early on to deal with upset sparklings that just so happened to frequently help adults as well. They held on firm but not tight and kept their servos still save for the one that was currently gently rubbing the back of Reaver's helm. They let themself be known but weren't about to demand his attention-instead staying silent and shutting their optics to his tears.

.

Sticks's face caught a blush within kliks- was it? What gave it away? They drew in their field to try to curb the embarrassment but couldn't quite manage and instead opted for burying their face further in the couch, "Oh I never told  _ anyone _ that how did you...?" They paused  _ -right. _ A few kliks of silence and they coughed awkwardly and released their mouth from the cushion it was currently seated in, "D-different person.  _ Oh _ maybe I have a thing for good voices- except for..." Well, except for Forceps. They were the exception to the rule they supposed. "Well, yes, alright I did have... quite a bit of a crush on Salvo. Though it wasn't his voice exactly, I think, that did it. It was more that..." 

Sticks shifted a bit to lay their helm down on the couch on its side, "well, he saved me. And- and then he continued to save me. He..." They trailed off, they didn't know how much they wanted to tell, "I have these very  _ vague _ memories of his arms around me while he was sleeping. Course you can't just exist with a head full of romance stories and be just as out of it as I was and  _ not _ think that maybe you've landed yourself something of a knight. Even before I heard him sing." They smiled sadly, "of course he was very nice about it- turned me down. He's... not one for romance." 

Sticks cocked their helm and chuckled a bit, "Ah, yes that's it. Not good voices but... the ones who save me. -Oh that sounds  _ desperate _ doesn't it." A wry sigh, "Current partner's mostly mute- which is why I find it funny I seem to have a thing for voices as well."

.

April 6, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/06/2019**

Spade continued to pet around Arclight's audials, and even dropped a servo down to gently massage the top of his neck. They didn't look like they were really listening, optics focused intently on Arclight, but they hummed a bit in consideration.  _ Would _ they consider a foursome with Duo? They'd never fucked twins before- never  _ seen _ them really, even. They tore their optics away to give them both a slow appraising look, more for show than anything else. Bit big for their tastes, maybe a bit big for Arclight too. But that blush was growing on them, the two  _ were _ cute. "Sure, yanno, just let me just go find my shadow self I sealed away in subspace and we could all go off together," They said nonchalantly, unlike Duo, getting Spade to blush was a task, "Don't know what I'd do with the second spike I just grew, though, maybe I'll sit on it or something."

But  _ toys, _ they didn't know about that. They were fine with it, not gonna be spooked unless someone started waving something around. The better question is, would it help Arclight. They looked back down at the mech again, "You gonna be okay with looking at... whatever Duo wants to show us? Do you want to anyway?" They paused then added, quieter, "dunno actually, do you think you wanna go back to the medbay?"

##  **Betta132** **04/06/2019**

Reaver held Vulcan close and, softly, cried. frame shaking. Just for a few moments, field withdrawn, working through the little surge of emotion. It passed, and he opened his optics again, field surging a quiet, mellow wave as he let everything drift away. Deep vent, clear the mind, let everything just... ease away. This... wasn't the time for mourning, nor, really, the place, not wrapped up in someone's arms. Sighing quietly, he rocked gently in place, stroking down Vulcan's back, then squirmed as if to get free. "Ah- let me on top of you," he requested, and managed to get them both turned over, coming up to sit astride Vulcan's midsection. His frame settled against Vulcan's, codpiece against soft stomach cables and thighs squeezing the other's frame, then his cheek slits flared again and he glanced away. "I, ah. Could have sworn I had... some sort of idea here, but... it seems to have left me," he chuckled, and settled for stroking Vulcan's chassis plating. What had he been doing? There had been a sort of... an idea, a flash of... something. It had fled by now, though. Whoops.

.

Quill giggled helplessly at the sensation of Sticks' field, then sighed and patted him with a cloth-wrapped servo. "I think 'handsome knight' is just about everyone's type. Hopefully you won't need any more saving. If you need it, though, I-I suppose you could do worse than Salvo. Or than... hm," they declared, and squinted into the blankets. "Mostly... well, that's Forceps, isn't it? Wow. They're... heh, I-I wouldn't think of them as- as the dating type. Do- do you know there's a rumor that they don't actually have any, um, emotions? I'm- I'm not buying it, but they're, um, sort- sort of intense, aren't they?"

Lifting their helm out of the couch, they squinted at Sticks as their optic adjusted to the light, blinking a couple of times. "I"m guessing they must be nicer in private, yes? Their, ah, public persona doesn't seem terribly... affectionate." 

.

Arclight shrugged, then shrugged wider, making a weird little scoffing noise. "Why th' fuck NOT," he declared into Spade's stomach, giving them a little squeeze, and sat up a fraction further to eye the twins. "Stayin'." 

Duo grinned at him in unison, and pushed themselves up to sit on the edge of the oil bath. Relatively close to Arclight and Spade, but leaving plenty of space for anyone involved to retreat if needed. One of them pulled out a relatively simple-looking false spike that, aside from being bright yellow and heavily nubbed, didn't look like much of anything in particular. Not really. Until he squeezed and twisted the base, and the nubby, ridged lines expanded up and out into a structure with a number of long grooves along it. Base to tip. Perfect for channeling lubricant. That was the idea! And the bot not holding the dildo? Well,  _ that _ twin was holding what looked an awful lot like a sounding rod, except that a long, flexible tube ran from the tip of it to an empty container. Which, well. On consideration, that made an awful lot of sense, if the goal was to collect fluids.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/06/2019**

Vulcan laughed, glad Reaver was feeling better, and stretched their arms behind their helm, "well take your time, by all means. I think if you sit there for long enough it'll come back to you." They raised a brow, "I'd suggest maybe it was something to do with spiking me but this... modification in particular reroutes most of the lube from my valve so I wouldn't-" he was cut off by the sound of a small motor initializing somewhere from his chassis for a split-klik his optics flashed and his field filled with surprised dread before his entire frame convulsed. Their vocalizer made a pained grinding noise as they twisted to curl around their chassis. Their upper half shook, broken up by small periods where their whole frame seemed to go limp and then immediately tense up. A servo gripped the sheets underneath them. Each ragged vent came out more like a whimper.

And just as quickly as it started, it stopped, with another whirring noise, barely audible over the straining sounds from Vulcan's frame. Their shoulders shook as they took a few deep breaths to try to calm themself down. With a half-cough of an ex-vent, they moved to put a servo on the ghost spark containment unit. Their grip on it was tight, but not tight enough to dent it. 

"I-I had forgotten the time," Vulcan said, his voice weak, wavering, "Don't- don't worry darling. It's over now." They weren't looking at Reaver's face, their wide optics instead focused on the berth. It wasn't difficult to see a glistening speck of a tear at the edge of one of them.

.

April 7, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/07/2019**

Sticks startled a bit at the movement and quickly closed down their optical connection with Quill at which point they opened their optics again. Their expression was a mix of exasperated and disappointed, "They  _ do _ have emotions. That's just... that's just mean!" They shook their helm, "but knowing them they're probably not even  _ bothered _ by people thinking like that. They  _ have _ emotions! More than they'd want me to advertise. They're so... preoccupied with appearing professional I worry about them. I worry people won't actually ever get to meet the real Forceps. They're  _ radiant _ when they're confident in what they do, sure," their field slowly flooded with  _ earnestness/affection, _ "But behind all that they're patient, they're earnest, and  _ kind _ by Primus. They're not uptight all the time but nobody gets to  _ see _ that because I have to convince them to come meet new people."

Sticks sighed, "no  _ emotions. _ I... guess it has to do with their voice- they can't exactly vocalize when emotional, I mean even their  _ comms _ cut out when it gets really bad. They sign, but not everybody knows- pit  _ I _ didn't know, I'm still learning. I think... they think nobody's gonna care about what they say if they say it. And that just breaks my spark to think about because they  _ do, _ they  _ will. _ They're so intelligent and- and caring and  _ so _ much more than what they seem to want to show people..." They trailed off their optics widening a bit, "Oh- dear I'm- wow that really, got me on a rant, huh. I'm sorry I didn't mean to just... dump all that." They blushed a bit, "You- you're right about the intense part though. They don't take many things in half-measures."

.

Spade's brows went up in interest. They just looked at the devices for a few moments and finally spoke, "Huh. Well those'd do it, wouldn't they." They squinted their optics, and almost reached out to touch them but thought better of it- clean or not they were almost certainly used, "Ever do both at  _ once? _ Kind of a weird thought to me, that. Someone trying to collect all your... fluids. While you're fuckin em. Imagine overloading and you come away just  _ clean. _ " They shook their helm, "I don't think I can really picture it. Come out lookin like you never overloaded at all!"

Spade paused and frowned curiously, continuing to pet Arclight while he was trying to calm down, "W-wait you keep sex toys in subspace? And... glue bombs... and grenades... What  _ else _ you got in there. And how the Pit do you know they're not gonna interact in there, huh? Glue and dildos... don't mix"

##  **Betta132** **04/07/2019**

Reaver's rather scattered arousal vanished entirely, like a sensible person's, at his partner's distress. Not knowing what to do, he shifted his weight off of Vulcan and sat next to them, optics wide, servos braced on their frame in an effort to help any way he could. There wasn't anything to do, not that he could see, but his field jumped to emergency comfort mode almost immediately-  _ reassurance/comfort/protectiveness _ , strong and resolute, meant for the bots he and his Order dragged off of battlefields. This- this might be something normal, some people's frames did unpleasant things and the  _ dread _ sure felt like he knew what this was, but if it didn't let up soon he was going to call a medic to- 

Oh, no, no, okay, it was ending, and Reaver's field melted into relief. Sighing softly, he laid down in front of Vulcan and wrapped his arms around the other, tight, trying to offer any comfort he could. "Vulcan. Vulcan, I need you to talk to me," he whispered, insistent, and brought a servo up to stroke the tears away. "I need you to tell me if you need a medic, Vulcan. Do I need to get you someone? I know several people who will happily come if you need them, if..." 

His voice trailed off, and he thought for a moment, then looked down at the spark container with a vague expression of something like dread. "Is something... wrong with it? It's not... dying?" 

Oh, dear Primus, this had so much potential to go so, so wrong if something was amiss with- well, with any of anything, but especially with the spark-in-potentia.

.

##  **Betta132** **04/07/2019**

Quill jolted a bit at the surprised motion and the  _ emotions _ , but relaxed again, optic dimming slightly. "Maybe it's a-a Decepticon thing? I know the... general culture went kind of...  _ different _ pretty quick. Must not be very easy being a medic when everyone is bigger than you. Medics have to be able to reach everywhere," they noted, then almost chuckled, cocking their helm. "Do- do you know the- the big difference that surprised me? A-a lot of Autobots, especially early on- when they see what I've got as a face, they think I did something bad. Something that'd hurt someone, you know? But Decepticons... they think I did something that they'd  _ like _ . I've- I've had Decepticons want to- to high-five me. Without even knowing what I did! They just- just figure they'd probably approve. It's... almost nice, actually? I didn't mean to make  _ Decepticons _ like me, though. Oh, I'm like a very small accidental terrorist." 

Optic squinted up in quiet happiness, they regarded Sticks for a moment, then offered a tiny, soft purr. "You know, that... that was actually pretty romantic. Going off about how they deserve better, about what you like about them. It's  _ sweet _ . What  _ do _ they have to say?" they asked, helm cocked slightly, stroking gently at Sticks' flank with one claw. 

.

"Less  _ clean _ , more  _ contained _ ," Duo shrugged, and wiggled the devices gently at Spade. "Clean! Can touch," they coaxed, but didn't push the issue, just put the grenades away so those weren't out. "Is preparedness!" they declared, then paused, glanced at each other, winced slightly, and corrected themselves in a slightly wry tone. "Is anxiety. Keep many things in subspace. Also, rearranging- empty boxes into subspace instead of onto things. No interactions, no- grenades have safety! Containers have lids! Irresponsible to not have safety and lids, make a mess. Many, many things in chemistry don't mix," they noted, and tangled up into each other again, arms around each other. "Have more spare dicks. Also, collection trays. Ingredients. Interface with partner, tire selves out, then set out cooking supplies and bake! Make treats of fluids. Nice solid gel. Good texture, good taste, sparkly from nanites. Good candy. Feed to partner- good blushing." 

A pause and a quick side-glance at each other, then they giggled a bit, winglets hitching up. "Have, ah. Fluids kink. Like to rub kinks onto partners. Sometimes kinks  _ spread _ if kink-play is done well enough." 

They'd had no fewer than two partners who they'd probably given a new kink with all of that. Flattering! Also fun.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/07/2019**

Vulcan's optics flickered as they performed a quick diagnostic on the case- they didn't  _ think _ anything had gone wrong but there was no reason not to check. A sigh, same as always, the single spark left glimmered like a lonely crystal among rocks. "It's alright, it's  _ fine, _ " they mumbled, "Don't- don't call anyone. It's scheduled to happen. Usually I'm  _ asleep _ by now. I was just... foolish."

Vulcan shuddered and pushed their face into Reaver's shoulder, partially so he wouldn't look at them, "I-hff." They didn't know how to explain- they didn't  _ want _ to. They were well aware how poorly thought out their system was. There was only one way this conversation would go- they'd been dreading its inevitability. "I don't suppose you'd be the type to just look the other way," their voice was quiet, raw, they seemed small in Reaver's arms, "It is- you see." A sigh, "Spark energy is relatively stable, easy to store, easy to  _ collect _ in theory. I-its regenerative and not tied by environment or-or circumstances. If everything is properly made and balanced it  _ will not _ fail- not until..." They frowned and pushed their face further into Reaver's plating, "not until I do. An-and I  _ know _ it's a horrible idea. I know it is. It's not supposed to- to hurt this much." They gripped Reaver's back, optics still wide, expression intense as another tear fell down their cheek, "I'm just- I'm so  _ close _ and then it'll be over with and he'll be  _ safe _ and I can stop feeling like I'm killing myself for a lost cause."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/07/2019**

Sticks smiled warmly, if slightly tired, and resumed scritching by Quill's antennae, "You know, you're not wrong. Don't know  _ how _ we got so different but we really did. The Decepticons I know, they're all focused on this idea of seeming in control. Even in low-stress situations. Probably some kinda... anxiety about their hierarchy as far as I can guess. Autobots, we mostly assumed we'd been told what we were needed. Probably how it took people so long to realize empuratees are  _ victims. _ Doesn't surprise me Decepticons figured out first there was a... sinister logic around empurata." They leaned further in, pinging something emphatic through their field, "If anyone's harassing you, you tell me and I'll straighten 'em out. No tolerance for people who act like that." After pausing, they added, "And for the record, you  _ do _ deserve high-fives."

Sticks sighed and thought for a bit. Perhaps Forceps's whole demeanor  _ was _ mostly influenced by their having been a Decepticon, but that didn't mean they shouldn't be encouraged to let themself be seen. "I... they do seem to be a Decepticon on all levels- Forceps that is. It's not like they have something... groundbreaking that they've been hiding, it's that you know, they have opinions, they have  _ conviction _ -just as much as anyone else and they should feel like they  _ have _ the same audience. I don't want them to feel pressured to keep up an appearance, either, but I don't know how to convince them that they're seen- they're hear- well not heard, they're  _ received. _ "

.

"Boxes is smart," Spade said absentmindedly. They wondered when they'd get access to their subspace pockets back- a couple datapads, some abandoned projects, a whole assortment of tools, and a single-shot blaster. Never anything liquid, though, too much risk of it spilling all over. "And so is being prepared," They continued, optics narrowing slightly, "there's nothing that says we're all safe here forever. Only a fool'd really believe that..."

Spade leaned further over Arclight, pressing as much as they could to the mech. "It's only what you can do," they said, voice low, "It's what you can do to protect yourself, and it's what the people you can trust can do to protect you- and the other way around. But mostly what you can do for yourself. There's no guarantees of anything. Nothing wrong with being prepared."

##  **Betta132** **04/07/2019**

Reaver stayed quiet for a little bit, field low and contemplative, then shifted to grip Vulcan's helm more or less gently in both servos and lock optics with them. "Tell me what you need," he ordered, soft but firm, his field surging  _ concern/determination/conviction _ around both of them. "I am not a medic, but if there is anything I can do to assist you, I will. So- what do you need? Raw materials? Assistance in building? Fuel? You've been thoroughly distracted, so- we should get to work on helping you and this little one." 

He wasn't exactly enjoying this. That wasn't  _ fine _ , nor was  _ scheduling _ it, dear Primus. That wasn't- it wasn't  _ right _ . Vulcan was trying to do a good thing, it shouldn't hurt this much, and Reaver was going to do his best to help. Not just for Vulcan's sake, but for the sake of- that was a sparkling, wasn't it, more or less? A new little life, at the very least. Which was... well. 

Reaver had always been taught to give what he could, when it was needed. Not to the extent that it could harm him, not unless it was in defense of many others. But... he knew spark energy could be replaced. He knew medics could boost others. But it wasn't  _ just _ medics, was it? Venturing a servo down as if to touch the spark's containment, he thought for a moment, then spoke in a hushed tone- as if this was a secret, or a matter of grave importance. "Would... would the little one benefit from... another spark to fuel it?" 

.

##  **Betta132** **04/07/2019**

"I can't do high-fives, I'm tiny and don't have servos. Low threes," Quill joked, and cocked their helm to better present their antennae, frame slumping as Sticks found more good spots. Mm. "No, no one's... well, Doom's not exactly polite, but I don't think he means anything. I wish he would stop trying to pick me up. Maybe I need a-a stick, do you think he'd listen better to being smacked with a stick? He's so  _ physical _ . I don't want to hurt him, I'd never hit someone to  _ hurt _ , I-I just wonder if- if he'd take it more seriously," they sighed, then shifted, purred, and pulsed quiet, flickering contentment at Quill.

And then,  _ aw _ . "Oh, you talk about them so nicely. And I-I don't have much actual experience in romance, but you should probably tell them this! At- at the least, it's sweet," they cooed, squinting gently at Sticks, and flicked their antennae gently against the petting servo. "And that feels really good- you're good at this. Ooh- please don't stop." 

.

Duo glanced at each other, then shrugged and squeezed each other tighter. "One guarantee- won't go against each other. Won't betray. Can't- we'd die! Can't live alone, in actuality-  _ can't _ . Physical impossibility. Have to be together. Wouldn't, anyway- don't want to," they whispered, nuzzling their faces together, and glanced to Spade out of the corners of their optics. "Trust. Need  _ trust _ in things- can't live without. Need trust to feel safe." 

Arclight listened to Duo, and, without saying anything, carefully squeezed Spade a bit tighter. It was probably shortsighted, probably foolish, but, Primus- these two weren't wrong. You had to have a person to trust, and, right now, Arclight's person was Spade. Spade, and... evidently no one else. Not right now. Spade. Only Spade. Spade was  _ safe _ . They'd been too vulnerable, fallen apart too much and with too much reluctance, for this to be fake. It was real- it had to be.

April 8, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/08/2019**

"I- I-" Vulcan stammered quietly, the directness of Reaver's gaze, the clarity of his field, threw them offguard. This wasn't what they were expecting -No scolding, no guilting -as if they weren't feeling guilty enough. "It- I don't know," they finally answered, "The research on cold-kept sparks was for longevity, not quality- and it's not exactly common to fuel what is essentially a freezer with spark-derived energy. That was... out of desperation" They looked away for a klik, desperation and disaster, "There was a theory that providing mature spark energy to a dormant spark kept cold would allow it to stay for longer which is why the device is designed to flood the chamber with whatever energy it's not using. I've no proof for it save for the fact that one still lives even so close to end-point. But..." They let out a nervous ex-vent, "I just don't know. I suppose I'm not able to give quite as much as I used to, I know that. In terms of the frame, the only thing left is the processor, which I've been making from scratch. After that, testing and final adjustments- except I-" 

Vulcan's optics glazed over again as they drove their face away from Reaver's, "I don't know if I've ruined it. I need to have a medic- multiple medics look at it before I can call it ready. I- I need to know I won't have doomed him before he could even sit up. And if I have, I don't know how much longer I have before I start risking serious consequences. I don't know how much longer any adjustments will take. I-" they let out a sob as their voice distorted again, "I don't want to  _ give up _ but I will not leave Puppet alone. I-I can't. I  _ can't." _

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/08/2019**

"You really do like your antennae touched, huh?" Sticks said gently, "What if I get both at once?" They leaned a bit to retrieve their other servo and set it on the other side of Quill's helm, moving their thumbs in half-circles around where their antennae attached to their helm. They sighed slightly and continued on the previous topic, "The problem, you see, is that my partner is  _ stubborn _ as all pit. It's... it's been very good for me but I feel like if I ever talked to them directly about it there's a high chance they'd only listen selectively. I'm trying to coax them out, get them to... make more friends." 

Sticks squinted their optics, they  _ could _ consider inviting Forceps to join them. But... they weren't about to involve Quill in something that could potentially get them anxious again- the bot seemed so calm now! Plus there was also something weird about being with a couple- they weren't about to make Quill feel  _ awkward _ either. They hummed a bit to dismiss the thought and took a look down at the datapad they were using, mentally scrolling through the files in the folder. They found something rather nice and cheery and let that play for Quill, "Ah here's something nice!"

.

"Yeah I- I know," Spade said, letting out a long vent, optics half-lidded as they looked down at Arclight, "Know more than I did yesterday at least. It's too much to ask anymore to trust my frame, or any of what I can do, but... it's almost alright now." They were quiet, purr kicking up a bit louder, "don't think I care much anymore- or at least right now, in this moment." They recalled the feeling from earlier, when they'd touched the side of Arclight's face and it had  _ helped. _ They couldn't defend themself, they couldn't truly ever make sure their frame wasn't about to self-destruct, but they at least knew they could do that.

Spade took a few long, deep vents and felt as what was left of their frame relaxed slightly. It was true, they hadn't really felt safe at all for the past week. Not when anyone could be a traitor. They couldn't exactly pinpoint why they trusted Arclight. Maybe it was the scars, maybe the way he'd stood in front of them- guarded them from strangers while being a stranger himself. Maybe they'd just reached their limit on distrust and they were lucky Arclight wasn't currently taking advantage of the fact, but nonetheless, here they were. 

"How is it now?" They whispered, quiet enough the twins wouldn't hear, "I'll do whatever you need me to, if you can think of it."

##  **Betta132** **04/08/2019**

"Well, we  _ do _ have multiple medics on this ship," Reaver hummed, stroking the side of Vulcan's helm with two fingers. "Scalpel, Patches, Acus, and Forceps are all available. Five-Alarm is... paranoid and probably rather overly anxious, but he is competent as far as I can tell. And I am  _ hardly _ a medic, but I have basic first aid training. I can at least look for basic issues, though I doubt you've made any serious mistakes. Would you like to call one of the medics now? And..." a pause, considering Vulcan's frame, then he sighed and pulsed something soothing-reassuring. "I'm sure it's not what you want to hear, but perhaps this is the point where you have to focus less on a  _ perfect _ frame and more on a  _ workable _ one. If you can build something that the spark will flourish in, that will keep spark and processor healthy, that is... all that is needed at this point, correct? Dexterity and fine details can be finished later. And perhaps they  _ should _ . After you've had some rest. Now-" a pause to re-capture Vulcan's helm and meet his optics again, "how much do the medics know? Have you looked to them for help? If not- that is  _ unhealthy _ , especially in an important matter such as this. You cannot possibly expect to build an entire person on your  _ own _ ! Every other method takes at least two," he chuckled, and leaned in to nuzzle Vulcan's forehelm again. Calm him down, keep him calm, keep him talking... nice and gently. Be an anchor, be calm and relaxed, let Vulcan haul themself back out of anxiety and despair, and make sure to offer plenty of support so they could do it. "Breathe for me, Vulcan. Calm. Tell me what you need to ensure that this little one will survive in a frame  _ without _ you attached to it." 

.

##  **Betta132** **04/08/2019**

Quill made a quiet, happy, garbled little noise, claws twitching, and cooed softly before getting their voice fully back. "Ooh,  _ yes _ . I can't do this myself, even with fingers, it's not the same. It feels  _ good _ ," they groaned, snuggling into Sticks, and relaxed to listen to the music. "Ah! There we are. Lots of yellow. Always liked the yellow songs," they hummed, and shifted again, moving to pet Sticks' frame. Softly, gently, a bit cautiously at first. It was usually safe to touch people's sides, right? Not a touchy area. Mostly. Good for stroking, wasn't it? Hopefully the blankets around their claws helped with something, because...

Oh. They did have the padding, though, didn't they? Quill glanced up at Sticks, then slowly uncovered one claw and reached to touch their side again. Softly. Slow, careful strokes with the areas padded for a decent grip, and for softness. That was what people did, right? The gentle petting? 

.

"Gonn' look f' fuckery," Arclight declared, and firmly stroked Spade's stomach, not really looking anywhere else. Careful strokes, then a sort of soft... prying motion, almost, parting the cables to stroke between them. Looking for... something. Anything. Any of the things that could be an issue for Spade. What kind of things could there be? Listening devices? More signatures? Signed listening devices? Didn't seem to be any of that in here. He could feel Spade purring, too, and his own purring kicked up a bit louder in response. "Don' see any yet. Anythin' feel fucked? 'Xept y' valve, tha's s'posed't be." 

Duo weren't sure what to do with all that, and it showed rather clearly in their faces. They hadn't learned how to do poker faces, not at all. Not well. So- huh. Helms cocked slightly, they watched the tangled-up pair for a little while longer, then shrugged and resumed idly petting each other. Stowing their toys, too. Tidiness! "Trust is good! Met, ah- Spinflask? Smallish bot, white, very smooth, lots of round," they described, fingertips stroking at the air as if petting, "has things going on. Shy. Easily spooked. Got trust there! Feels... feels  _ good _ , soft. Feels safe. For you... wait little while longer, then, when ready, go test glue traps. Can trust  _ machinery _ ! Devices! Chemistry! No brains, not capable of scheming. Grenades, very unlikely to attempt rebellion. Also, fire. Bad for inside, the fire, but reliable."

April 9, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/09/2019**

Vulcan's field raised something quietly indignant which quickly turned to shame. "I'm a  _ professional _ I've been doing this on my own for hundreds of millennia." Their voice was an earnest whisper, "the only thing I've done differently this time is create the organs by my own servo which is why it's taken so long. And I've  _ perfected _ them. I've tested them all. And now I know what I've done has caused more harm than good." They pulled away from Reaver to hide their face in a servo and took a shuddering breath. This wasn't getting them anywhere, they needed to calm down, they needed to  _ think _ and more importantly they needed to get back to work. While this was enjoyable, they were already paying for the lost time. 

Vulcan squirmed out of Reaver's grasp and landed upright on the floor. They swayed on their pedes for a klik before staggering over to the sink area. Leaning against the wall, away from Reaver, they spoke, waiting for the secondary pump to retrieve the energon from their modded equipment, "The frame needs to be good enough to not  _ need _ intensive modifications. If I've learned anything from Puppet it's that any and all frame adjustments will cause a great deal of stress that I cannot-  _ will _ not put on the new one. Not if I can help it." They shuddered a bit as the pump worked the last of its measure and gently pulled the now relatively solid single tentacle out to hold it under water while they scrubbed at it with their fingertips, "As for the medics, now, yes. As soon as possible I-I need to... finish."

Standing up was not so great, it turned out, after a potent combo of being exhausted from interface and the emotional toll of a routine energy siphon. They tried to disguise their involuntary slump as sulking and pressed their big forearms against the wall as they washed off the rest of the lube and transfluid, "They know about the ghost sparks. I've told them about the frame. I... hff." Finished, they made their way over to place the still-wet mod in the case and picked up the plain-looking spike from before to fasten it back on. Their panels snapped shut as they turned around again to wash their servos- all of them- with a slightly doddering intensity. They still wouldn't meet Reaver's gaze. Another wave of exhaustion, another long sigh as they turned off the faucet and leaned their weight on the rim of the basin, "They don't know how it works- the cold containment unit. They'd just... make me feel guilty about it. Suppose they'll figure it out sooner or later. Just... don't tell Puppet." They sighed and let their helm hang low, "And when this one's ready too, don't tell them either."

.

April 10, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/10/2019**

Sticks half-closed their optics to listen to the song but startled a bit at the feeling of Quill's tiny claws against their side. It was... odd to think their patient would be doing anything for them but they were hardly their patient now. Now they were a friend more than anything else. They relaxed back into the couch with a sheepish sigh, "Your- your claws are so tiny. I'm not used to people being  _ smaller _ than me. It's good I promise, don't stop." They pushed their face into the top of Quill's helm, "Incredible, I guess this is what it's like when someone cuddles  _ me. _ "

It was good to hug someone smaller than them, Sticks mused as they shifted to wrap their arms further around Quill, still paying attention to their antennae. It felt safe- in a strange way. Could they truly offer the protection someone larger, sturdier would? Not by any means. But it was perhaps that they  _ could _ hold each other in their arms that meant all was well. The room was quiet, save for the muffled music coming from the datapad's speakers. Everything was calm. With a deep breath, they let out a soft hum, "how much feeling do you have in your palms? You think a massage might help? I've gotten pretty good at them recently."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/10/2019**

Spade twitched at the contact, a bit of apprehension trickling through their field. They looked down and watched Arclight's fingers, feeling their purr sputter out. It wasn't exactly comfortable, the sensation of someone pushing around their stomach, nor was watching it, but it didn't inspire the primal fear they felt before. Nor was it quite like the idea of someone doing it without their knowledge. It was controlled, they trusted Arclight to stop when they said so, and they weren't being  _ held down _ like they were at the start of all this. Their vents slowed slightly and their frame relaxed- they hadn't even noticed they'd tensed up. They pressed the side of their helm into Arclight's and steadfastly resumed purring. 

"No, nothing's... nothing feels wrong," Spade told Arclight, voice tender, "feels a little... uhh..." There was still lingering pings from the feeling of Arclight's fingers playing about in their abdominal cavity, like things had been just  _ slightly _ moved. They weren't about to say that out  _ loud _ though. Duo didn't need to know- they didn't even think they'd  _ want _ to know. They cleared their throat, right, the two had asked them a question. They couldn't bring themself to really look away from what Arclight was doing but spoke up, more authoritative, less tender, "Haven't met Spinflask no, but..." a sigh as a slight smile pulled at their mouth, "I'm glad he's got someone to trust."

##  **Betta132** **04/10/2019**

Reaver more or less followed Vulcan, and it was only halfway so he could wash off as well. He also wasn't entirely sure that Vulcan wasn't about to fall over. Pulsing quiet reassurance as well as he could, he purred down at Vulcan, less from relaxation and more as a deliberate soothing technique, and pressed up against their back. "This seems something like what I've seen field medics do. They have to make temporary repairs that will have to be undone later in order to properly repair something, or they have to cap off every wire and line in a severed limb to preserve it for later. I suppose it's because... alive, they can work with. Dead, not so much. Alive and open to stress is better than  _ dead _ , or dead and taking you with them. It would be  _ better _ for it to be perfect. All it  _ needs _ to be is  _ workable _ ," he sighed, settling against Vulcan's back, and gave them a firm squeeze in an effort to help him relax. "You can't push for perfection at the risk of your own death. Self-destruction won't help anyone. Least of all Puppet." 

Humming gently, he shifted his weight enough to hopefully pull Vulcan with him, a slow, gentle rocking motion. "I'll call the medics for you. Patches, I think, and Acus. And, speaking of Puppet... are you going to have them nearby when you transfer the spark? This  _ is _ a sibling of theirs, in a way. And I'm sure they'd find it fascinating. They're clever enough not to get in the way, I'm sure. Now... will you tell me about them? We have a moment or three while the medics get here, one of them is slow-moving and the other has short legs. So... you have one charge who is in a relatively healthy frame, and seems to be feeling quite frisky. Tell me about Puppet." 

There. That was hopefully a good distraction. Just... get Vulcan to breathe for a little longer, to start to relax, to think about something softer. That was the thing to do with a mech who had just had some kind of spark trouble, right? 

.

##  **Betta132** **04/10/2019**

Quill laughed, soft and shy, and nuzzled up into Sticks' frame. "Oh! It  _ is _ nice to have someone near your size to hold. I rather like not feeling like a doll or a little stuffed toy, as nice as that can be. And I..." 

A long pause, and they flexed their claws, considering. They didn't have palms so much as they had a small space where the three claws met, but those spaces  _ were _ covered in a soft material, and it definitely had sensation in it. Quill considered the idea for a moment, then presented the claw not petting Sticks to them, antennae lowering slightly. "I-I suppose. And I... I have" a slight pause, claws flexing oh-so-carefully against Sticks' servo, "-it's a lot to- to ask for something, but... you helped, a lot. Could you" a pause, and a deep in-vent before they continued, "is there any way you would be willing to- to be around if I tried to get these replaced? I... I wouldn't be awake to upset you any. And you can say no, I'm... I'm sure I-I will eventually. Only... the medics are- are nice enough, but" another little squeeze "it feels... easier with someone  _ friendly _ , you know?" 

.

##  **Betta132** **04/10/2019**

Arclight moved slowly up Spade's front, skirting around their spark chamber, up and over to their shoulders. Gentle rubbing, even flexing Spade's arm slightly to check inside the joint. Didn't think there would be anything in there, but, hey. Up to their throat, around their neck, but he stopped before reaching the port at the back of their helm and just squinted at them. "Can check here," he noted, and made no effort to move any further. Not yet. His optics weren't terrible up close, so if there was something going on, he could probably see it. Right? Maybe there was a thing rigged in there. Did people rig things in ports?

Duo watched, curious-sad, and fidgeted a bit at each other before suddenly reaching into subspace at the same time. They'd had an idea! They kept raiding science places, whenever they could, and they'd found plenty of spare things. Especially replacements for things that were fragile. For this one, ah! Magnifiers! Two, one for Arclight and one for Spade. Just little lenses, but, hey- how could you possibly rig a lens to be any sort of strange? Lenses were lenses, and lenses either worked or didn't. These worked. "Can look for small things now. If there are any" a slight pause "ghosts? Can find them. And magnets- want a magnet? Not comfortable on frame, but very bad for bugs. Leggy wild ground-bugs and fake listening-in bugs." 

That was probably what was up with Spade, right? Bugs? But they didn't know, and should probably be clear about that. "Guessing about bugs. Some people, worry about bugs now. Under plating or such. Plating off, looking for things, so," a slight gesture at Spade, "guessed bugs. Don't know! Can't read minds. Probably good! Would be loud anyway, too many people thinking too many things."

April 11, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/11/2019**

Vulcan leaned gently back into Reaver's arms and sighed, closing their optics for a moment. The plates on their back shifted a bit, almost like the flutter of wings but far, far too small. They would do their best with the time they had before they were forced to do something with the final spark, but Reaver was right, they knew he was right. They needed to live regardless of whether or not the spark survived. They just hoped it didn't come to that.

"Puppet... will be there," Vulcan said at last, swaying a bit on their pedes, "They've watched the whole process, now, I can't imagine them shying away from the final step. Of course I wouldn't force them. I would invite anyone who wished to see the process, of course, since I do believe it will be the last of its kind for... quite a while if not eternity. Primus willing, it won't end in disaster." With that muttered addition, they trailed off, there were any number of complications left to encounter in the process. They knew what they were doing, though, and the medics did too, what small reassurance that was.

With a deep sigh, a set of servos fell to cup Reaver's, "You know, I found Puppet in the servos of a... a very scared technician." The sense memory of forearm plating creaking under Vulcan's grip came back to them. Their fingers twitched against Reaver's in response. "Poor thing was about to be mishandled to death. We were both lucky to have found each other that day." They remembered the distressed heat of Puppet's spark as they held it in their servos. They hadn't seen one on its own quite so scared before. After a moment's pause they continued, "The first thing they did when they gained control of their frame- their first conscious act- was to hold me." 

Vulcan's servos gripped Reaver's a little tighter as their field quivered  _ love/nostalgia/melancholy _ "You see, I'd never been able to  _ keep _ any of the children I'd brought into the world before. Every time I'd tried it... ended in tragedy. And now I have them. And they'll have me as long as they need." Their optics glazed over slightly as they leaned their helm back into Reaver, "They're quickly becoming everything this cursed universe is in desperate need of and I couldn't possibly be prouder."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/11/2019**

Sticks's optics shone- they didn't know how to respond- not exactly. They simply smiled and looked down at Quill's claw in their servo. It was truly very small, but they could work with that very gently they brought their other servo up to support the back of their claws and pushed their thumb-tips around the outside of the small area, holding the whole assembly rather strangely to avoid cramping the still-developing muscle cables in their servos. They hummed gently and finally looked into Quill's optic, "Sure I will. And I- huh" they shifted their stroking to follow up the middle of their palm, "I don't know why you being awake would upset me. You're not upsetting, no. I'm not sure I'd be able to  _ watch _ through the... uhh... the important bits. But I'll be there the whole time. I can guarantee you that."

Sticks's smile grew wider and they let some of their earnestness leak through their field as they switched up their massage again, this time moving lower onto their wrist, applying careful pressure to spots that they knew tensed up on themself. "I'd be honored actually. I- well, I'd be lying if I didn't say I honestly think everyone wants to see you feeling better about your- the ends of your arms, but... I want you to be happy again with servos-mods- whatever you decide to do. I know I said it before but... I  _ will _ do my best for you, Quill. Whatever you need, you've got me by your side."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/11/2019**

Spade looked over to Duo, a peculiar look on their face, and took one of the lenses from them. A quick inspection to check for microfilaments or embedded code but found nothing. They simply looked at it for a moment before holding it up to offer Arclight. They sighed, something resigned and sad, "Not bugs. I... think I'd be able to deal with it better if it was just bugs." Their optics flitted between Scissor and Syringe, "A signal blocker- selective- on my processor. And a killswitch." Their voice had a clinical, detached quality to it. They put a servo on their stomach, roughly where the device had been, "Guillotine around a major energon line with an igniter. Control switch had, among other things, a microphone on it. Don't want to think about what it was listening for." 

Spade's optics had gone unfocused. With a deep sigh they blinked at last and brought a servo up to massage at their temples, "And on top of that he signed his work... everywhere. Not much is beyond him, don't know what'd kill me and the people around me. I'm not this naked, this paranoid for nothing."

##  **Betta132** **04/11/2019**

Reaver gave Vulcan a long, firm squeeze, optics dimming, and hummed low in his throat. "I can't imagine making a child,  _ building _ a child with your  _ servos _ , and having to give them up. Let alone multiple times," he whispered, something sad and quiet in his field. "We didn't construct mechs for my Order. Our home was built around a hot spot, though a very small one, and any other new additions were either those who joined us from elsewhere, or those born through more, ah...  _ carnal _ means. I always thought that constructing frames must be... something like the loneliest job in the world. Lonelier than being a  _ weathervane _ . But, Puppet... Puppet seems like they would make it difficult to be lonely. They are terribly sweet, aren't they? Have they been learning to help you with anything?" 

Someone knocked on the door, then opened it when Reaver tossed "come in!" over his shoulder. It was Patches and Acus, with Acus sliding off of Patches' shoulder where he'd been sitting. Patches had the handle of a well-worn toolbox in one servo, and he leaned inside with a soft look on his face to check what was going on. "Hello, Vulcan- we're here to see if we can help. I'm the most experienced medic on staff, and Acus has considerable experience with constructed frames. That, and small servos." 

.

"I was, earlier," Quill explained, claws flexing again. "You don't like people being upset. I-I can see... why... ooh." 

Sticks' massage almost hurt at first. Tense cables resisted as strongly as they could, but gave under persistent rubbing, and Quill made a quiet and fairly inarticulate noise. " _ Oh _ , okay, that's... I-I am going to have to owe you several massages after all this," they crooned, flexing their claws carefully against Sticks' servo. The tips weren't worryingly sharp, after all. "I-I know I might not... have much dexterity at first. But I can try. And I. I want my  _ face _ back," they whispered, very softly, optic unfocused and aimed at nothing in particular. "I-I can't... can't see properly like this. I want  _ emotions _ back. I want to not- I can't look at anything  _ reflective _ . I just..." then, very soft, "I didn't hurt anyone. I just want myself back. It hurts. Less, with you...  _ doing _ that, thank you, but... it aches. I want all of me back." 

.

Duo made a series of complicated and appropriately horrified expressions, fidgeting more in earnest as they fought to not hug Spade, and hugged tighter around the bundle of towel they were holding. "Ah, fun! Worse! He dead yet? Can make him dead for you," they offered, vibrating angrily in place. "Want magnets anyway?" 

"Clever little," Arclight began, hissing, then made a harsh noise in the back of their throat. "Fuck. Got no words strong enough. Little  _ fuck _ ," he snarled, and kept his plating lifted angrily as he kept looking Spade over. "Anything else?"

  
  


Vulcan stood up straighter as the medics arrived and took a deep breath. They pulled away from Reaver and reached down to quickly subspace the briefcase before standing up to full height. Folding their larger arms behind their back, they addressed the two, "Patches," a nod at him, voice soft but professional, "Acus," they turned and nodded at the stranger, too, giving him a slightly warmer smile as greeting, "Follow me, then."

With that Vulcan walked out into the hall. Within a few kliks it was clear they were elsewhere, no doubt lost in their own mind. Their expression was grim, and their field leaked a strange apprehension underneath the warmth-tinged professionalism. They moved quickly, with a confidence they hadn't shown in many years as they navigated the halls, eventually ending up in front of a door to one of the larger rooms. They didn't look back as they entered but kept the door open.

Inside was a double-sized berthroom, with a curtain sectioning off one part of it. The other half sported neatly-kept shelves full of colorful jars that were anchored to the wall above a sizable chest. A berthpad on the floor supported a collection of heavy blankets that were neatly folded on top of each other. The other berth in the room was pushed against the wall and looked somewhat like a nest. Metallic  _ somethings _ were poking out between the blankets.

Vulcan paused at the sight and made mental note to figure out what to do about notifying Puppet they weren't in Reaver's room anymore. Their vision blurred a bit as their mind went slightly hazy. They took another lopsided step in before staggering over to the berthside table and pulling an energon cube from one of the drawers. They leaned back to half-sit on the berth as they waited for the rest of their companions to file in, pulling a darkened vial from subspace, the contents of which they poured a few drops of into the cube. Quick, practiced movements switched the vial for a small jar from which they shook out a couple of tablets. Shaking their helm they put one back and dropped the other into their drink. Their optics seemed mostly unfocused as they waited for the drink to bubble, at which point they took a sip and sighed. Didn't exactly feel  _ great _ encouraging their frame to forgo recharge, they'd deal with their intake system's whining later. Another sip and they looked up to the door, mentally taking stock of who they were going to entertain- would everyone fit?

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/12/2019**

Sticks was ready to respond with something cheerful-positive but then Quill seemed to fall into a bit of a hole. They stayed quiet, thoughtful, trying to formulate a response as they continued their massage. Their servos slowed gradually until they stopped to gather Quill into a tight one-armed hug. Pressing their cheek against the top of their helm, they switched their grip on the other's claw, just holding it now, softly petting from the base to the tips with their thumb, "We can do that. Whatever it takes to make you feel whole again- it's only a matter of time now, I  _ promise. _ " 

There was something distinctly subdued in Sticks's field. The years of quiet service in the archives had taught them to keep their field from reflecting the gravity of their emotions- for the comfort of others. What fierce determination was made gentle, even if their optics glowed even brighter than before. They sighed, letting out a bit of their fire and gave Quill a smile instead, "One step at a time until everything's ready then, yeah? Now, do you think any of your other aches can be helped with a little bit of strategic rubbing?" They resumed applying gentle strokes to the joints of Quill's claws, "I've got a bit more rubbin' left in me before I've gotta take a break."

.

"Natural causes," Spade said bitterly, "Died of exposure, and that's the worst part of it all. Not much I wouldn't do for the chance to bring him back- string him up and make it  _ slow. _ " Their optics glinted as their field let out something brutal and vindictive Their face didn't seem to reflect the change, though, it barely held any emotion at all save for the tension around their optics. They growled, "Wring every ounce of pain from his frame until he's told me everything he  _ did _ to me- until he's  _ begging _ me to die." Their voice seemed to tear around the edges a bit, "And I'll make him  _ watch. _ "

Spade's servos clenched for a bit until they remembered Arclight was next to them, Duo were close, they were not alone. They let out a breathless "fuck" and slowly let their frame fall limp against Arclight's. Anger wasn't productive, it was just  _ exhausting. _ There was nothing left for them to do but sit and steam and feel bad about themself. "Can't though. Couldn't even pull myself back together and show him he can't fuck with me-maybe then I'd have the motivation to," They mumbled, then took a deep breath. They kept clenching and unclenching their servos for a few moments before letting out a careful ex-vent. Their anger leaked out of them, only replaced by a deep bitterness. They held out a servo to Duo, optics tired, not looking at them, "I'll take the magnets."

##  **Betta132** **04/12/2019**

Reaver moved a bit carefully so as not to bump into anything, and, deeming it the most appropriate solution, sat down on Vulcan's berth(ish) next to them. That avoided taking up more floor space, and put him in a position to lean comfortingly against Vulcan. Albeit while glancing back at Puppet's berth. It probably said something that Puppet had the actual berth and Vulcan didn't, but mostly that was just  _ cute _ . They had a little nest! Albeit with some shredded bits- clearly they'd had some trouble at some point with snagging things on their plating. 

"Tight space," Patches noted quietly, and reached for Acus as if to pick him up. He didn't, though- just crouched slightly, offering his arms, without grabbing. Clearly this was something routine, as he stayed still while Acus stepped up onto his forearm, then the next, then up onto his shoulder. Humming low in his throat, he lifted his servo to rest on Acus' side, supporting him, and gestured slightly to the curtain. "Would you like to show us, Vulcan? And a clarification would be nice- Reaver said something about a consult? I can fill in some blanks for myself, but I'd rather you give us the information.  _ You _ aren't looking terribly good, and..." he muttered, squinting, "I'm not going to like why, am I? You've... either done, or been doing, something I'm not going to be a fan of. I'm old enough to recognize that look," he sighed, aiming a soft, somewhat wry look at Vulcan. That was... there was an expression that people got. Plus, the sudden and strut-deep exhaustion pointed at something unpleasant. Mostly he was resisting the urge to go over and scan Vulcan instead of doing... whatever this was. 

.

Quill whimpered, shivered, and relaxed, pushing their face gently into Sticks, and almost seemed to moan against him. "Nnh. Oh, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm okay," they whispered, squeezing Sticks gently, and pet lightly at their frame by way of apology. "Just a little sad. Better than before. Please don't hurt yourself on my account!" they squeaked, then, softer, "but that does feel good. Can you keep doing that? Please? I-I promise to return the favor when I can. It's really nice," they cooed, antennae lifting slightly, and purred to Sticks. "There aren't many people here who are small enough to... to do something like this, and they're all... I don't know how to talk to Tempo, Sharpshot's not friendly, and Longrange... I-I don't know, it's- it's like you could ask them to jump down the elevator shaft and they'd try to do it. Are they  _ okay _ ?" Quill asked, glancing up at Sticks' face. "They're... the plating, the  _ carvings _ . They were... oh, it- it's not a nice way to refer to someone, but I don't know what else to say, except... that's what people look like when they were made to be someone's  _ pet _ . The... the fancy bots who are supposed to be decorative. Is that just... what happens to someone when you raise them like that?" 

It wasn't really their business, was it? But they had to talk about something other than their own business right now, because their own business was full of aches and dissociation. 

.

Duo, despite how much heavier than Spade they were, looked rather alarmed for a moment. That sort of thought, it wasn't foreign to them. They'd thought about locking their foremech, their  _ captor _ , in a room with something nasty. Something that would eat pits into his plating and then start to corrode his internals, would leave him awake as he felt his whole frame start to crumble to pieces around him. They could have, they'd thought about it, but the idea had  _ scared _ them. Regardless of what he'd done, that was... that was cruelty. Gratuitous cruelty. They'd just shut him in a closet with a dozen or so grenades of different kinds, which hadn't exactly been a  _ clean _ death, but it had been relatively quick. Couldn't do anything worse. Spade... Spade kinda sounded like they could do worse. Was it some sort of... cathartic fantasy? The sort of thing that someone might intend to do but never manage? Was it... something Spade might actually...  _ do _ ? 

Well. Not really any way to tell, and it... it didn't matter. They weren't the target of that (entirely understandable) rage. It wasn't important any more. Mech was dead. Therefore, they hauled the assorted magnets out of subspace, and, careful not to let them stick to anything solid, handed them over to Spade. "There! Look for things." 

Arclight made a soft noise in the back of his throat, quiet agreement, then lightly clicked his glossa. "I got a corpse to fuck up. Think... think I might. Don' know what I wann' do," they whispered, quietly enough that Duo wouldn't hear, right in Spade's audials. "Maybe later. Don' know what. Might... weld up th' fuck. Got m' welders now. You. You wann' go... them grenades?" he asked, searching for something else to think about instead. Didn't even know if the bots here would let him have the corpse back to fuck up.(edited)

April 13, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Vulcan took another sip, which turned into a draught, then sighed and stood up, clearing their throat, "No, you won't like it." Their optics flicked from Patches to the curtain to the cube in their servo. With another, heavier sigh, he picked the tab out of the energon and downed the rest with a considerable shudder. Leaning back to put the remnants on the berthside table, they walked over at last and flung the curtain back.

Behind it was the other berth in the room, on which lay a rather lumpy frame-shape obscured by a metallic-looking cloth. Vulcan glided over to the wall, on which hung two aprons- one big and one small. On the perpendicular wall was another holder for tools- hammers of all sizes, calipers (nonsexual), various measuring tools, as well as a sizable toolbox sat on top of the shelf. With slightly addled optics, they eyed the room, taking both aprons off their hooks. The way they both weighed down the mech's arm it was clear they weren't made of cloth. The tired haze faded from their optics as they realized they should probably be explaining things, at least for Reaver's sake. They turned to Acus and handed him the smaller apron, "I'm afraid the closest apron I have to your size is Puppet's, hopefully it's not too big." They turned to Reaver, then to Patches, and looked down at the heavy metal-cloth in their arm. Realizing it would fit neither, they put it on, quickly looping the back strings around their front. They looked at Reaver, "Aprons required. The metal in them blocks low-level spark signals that could imprint on the unaligned metallico in the frame. I do have something that might fit you both."

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Vulcan then reached into subspace and pulled out a hefty bundle of metal fabric. Looking from Patches to Reaver, he unfolded the pile into what turned out to be a long, wide cloak. As they spread it out, they revealed two parts. An over-covering, which they gave to Patches, and an underlayer consisting of chain mail sandwiched between two thinner pieces of wire fabric. They gathered this underlayer in their servos and eased it over Reaver's helm. "This one was made for wings, hopefully it will fit you," they murmured before addressing the room, "The long and short of it is that I need help. Patches, I talked to Salvo today and he had some... valid concerns about his frame, which he took out on me. I need to not make the same mistakes again. The little one deserves more than that." 

As they settled the cloak on Reaver's shoulders they smiled at him, optics giving away their apprehension, "I knew this would look good on you," they whispered, then finally stood up to face the medics, "Without going into details I am... running out of time. I need to know as soon as possible what needs to change so I can avoid extensive frame-work once he's settled." Here they looked at Patches specifically, "Which, I would hazard a guess from my experience with Puppet, would be at best very distressing and at worst traumatic."

Once they noticed everyone was properly attired they strode over to the berth on which the empty frame lay, "As of now I've got only the processor left to build." With a single motion, they grabbed the sheet and  _ pulled, _ revealing the smallish robin's-egg blue frame underneath. The armor was rounded, slightly stylized, but well-crafted. Shapes flowed one into another, accented by minimal soft bronze details. Not overstated, but clearly crafted to a vision. "And..." they continued, "one alteration to make." They reached their fingers underneath the rounded chassis plating, which came off to reveal hydraulic controls tucked around another, strut-colored plate. This in turn lifted away from what was undeniably another matrix cradle. Vulcan sighed deeply and put their face in their servos for a few moments.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Sticks gave Quill a pained look and continued with their servo-rub, "I can't quite wrap my head around it either. It-it just it's  _ sad _ to think about. Sharpshot's... he's working on them- real wary around people who could potentially control them. The poor thing's scared to pieces of Forceps- apparently because they're a Decepticon. It's... I can't imagine how stressful it must be for them- scared of Decepticons... I..." they paused and looked down at Quill, "If either of them bothers you, you let me know, alright? I'll try to set the record straight. Both of them caught a  _ lot _ of Autobot propaganda. It's..." A deep sigh, "It doesn't help to say it, really, does it?- but it's not personal. It shouldn't be at least."

Sticks cocked their helm, almost hopefully, "Could try Acus? If you get sick of me, that is. He's... pretty elusive though. Milu, too, but I'm not sure how cuddly he is, exactly. Also elusive. And then there's... Spade." They paused again, optics flicking away, "Guess, if you really want a challenge. They haven't exactly spoken to  _ me _ in a while- as if I didn't know them for a large portion of their life." Shaking their helm they continued, "Anyway, I agree, it's hard to find cuddly people around our size on this ship. Guess you and I could change that, huh?"

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Spade looked sad as Duo seemed to shy away from them and, clutching the magnets to them, turned to face Arclight instead, trying not to think about how they'd just pushed- more like violently shoved- Duo away. "Take advantage of the opportunity," they whispered back, "I'll come with you if you need backup. H-" they squinted slightly, "Hammer? Smash him apart? Big hammer. Could probably find some circular saws, too, big ones. Hatchet..." They shook their helm, there wasn't much good about the prospect of fucking up a corpse aside from the fact it couldn't do anything about it. Would it be gratifying? Would it do  _ anything? _ They wanted to believe so- maybe then at least Arclight would have the opportunity for some closure, even if they couldn't. 

"Yeah, grenades," Spade finally said after a moment of silence, sick of thinking about retribution for now, "think I wanna invite Burner, she's... she can be fun."

##  **Betta132** **04/13/2019**

Reaver shrugged into the cloak and inspected it, curious, then his optics lit up and he smiled. "Oh! A guardian's cloak," he murmured, shifting his wings lower so they could comfortably tolerate the weight, and stayed on the berthmat so as not to get in the way. He did push himself up onto his knees to get a proper look, though. "Ah- elegant." 

Patches stepped in closer, moving to let Acus step onto the berth, and placed a servo lightly on the frame's stomach. "Beautifully made," he murmured, albeit with something unreadably displeased in his optics as he eyed the cradle. "And yes. You should take that out. Now... let me see," he declared, and scanned the small frame, checking it over. 

Acus sat next to the small frame, servos fluttering over the limbs momentarily, then moved back up to the torso at a slight gesture from Patches. He was comfortable enough with Patches to recognize the small indicator gestures as signs of where he should go next, and, ah- here? Delicate fingers delved between muscle cables, parting them to show the T-cog, and he tilted his helm slightly in confusion. "That... doesn't look right."

##  **Betta132** **04/13/2019**

"A lot of this doesn't look exactly right," Patches muttered, tapping and nudging along the frame's side to check proportions. "The joints and plating are beautiful, but a lot of these organs are... hm. This T-cog, this isn't right at all. I'm inclined to take it out. For a bot  _ without _ medical-related traumas, replacing, or in this case integrating, a T-cog is simple enough. It would be easier on the frame to remove the T-cog and set it up properly outside them, then put it in them once it's ready. And, since they'd never had a t-cog before, they wouldn't miss it in the meantime. The rest... fuel tank looks fine, at least, and spark chamber. You're missing a lot of filtration components, though, we'll need to add those in. Or... possibly transplant one or two, actually, depending on how urgent this is. A lot of bots have more than they need. I'm going to need to see what you've done with the immune system, the self-repair, the surface nanite generators, and I need to know what state the spark is in, so I know how long we have to fix this. It's a start, the framework is there, but some of this isn't right," he sighed, and tilted the frame's helm back, sliding one optic open. "You really should have come to us sooner. At the very least, we could have given you advice, and, what- an anatomy example? I don't think you've met Nati, but they're a  _ living _ anatomy example. They're perfect for this." 

.

"No, no, they're- they're polite. Just a little scared, I think. I have to admit, I... I might have been scared, too," Quill confessed, a bit softly. "I'd probably think I was some kind of... murderer, or bomber or something. Acus, I haven't seen much of, but he's kind enough. I'm just not sure he'd like the petting. I don't even want to  _ think _ about what happened to make him... goodness. Some people are awful. No one on- on the ship, though! Just not much a fan of Focus, he's a lot. Don't tell him that.  _ Ooh _ ." 

Quill's claws flexed against Sticks' servo again, and they purred quietly in the back of their throat, slowly moving to stroke up Sticks' arm with the servo not being kneaded. "Tell me about, um... what you like. So I can plan what to do when I can do more than just try to pet you. Please?" they whispered, nuzzling into his frame. "I'm good with imagination." 

.

Duo fidgeted, glancing at each other, then deliberately moved closer. Not too much, but well within grabbing range, just for a moment as they climbed out of the bath. There was a drain in the floor, and the two of them hopped around momentarily, shaking their frames clean of the oil, then moved over to the door and paused next to it- vibrating a bit. "Want to ride cart? Can call Burner! Can possibly throw glue grenades at Burner." 

A pause, then a grin, remembering the confident femme for certain. "Can DEFINITELY throw glue grenades at Burner. After asking, but, yes. Stick friend to floor!" 

Arclight scoffed an amused noise and slowly pried himself out of the tub, winding up sitting on the floor as if gravity was too strong for him. Grumbling, he shook his helm and watched the oil puddling under his frame, and made no effort to get to his pedes. Waiting for Spade, mostly. Also not wanting to move too much. Didn't feel like moving.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Vulcan didn't look up, and instead hunched over. Their second pair of arms slid down from behind their back as they leaned onto their elbows. Their servos clenched the back of their helm and their winglets fell. They knew exactly why it was imperfect. What a fool to believe it could have been done fine the way they'd had it. It took a couple minutes for them to say anything, and when they finally did their voice was barely above a whisper, "I know... I should have come to you sooner- should have asked for help the day I set pede on this  _ ship. _ I-" They cut themself off before they choked on their words. They weren't about to  _ cry _ at their first critique in hundreds of thousands of years. They waited until their throat eased and continued, "The spark will be fine until it's not at which point it's just  _ over. _ We're reaching the theorized limit for how long sparks can be cold-kept- the lenient one, we're well past the conservative estimate. And Primus knows what state it'll be in once it's reignited- you know as well as I do, no one has researched the longevity of ghost sparks. It is stable as long as the containment unit is untouched."

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

With a deep sigh, Vulcan pushed themself back up. Their face was hard, unreadable. They locked their optics onto the frame in front of them- how long they'd spent looking over every nook and cranny of it, how much longer would they even have? "The limiting factor is me," they said, "Carrying around the containment unit is taking a heavy toll on my frame and it's getting harder to ignore." They spoke as if it were about someone else, "I don't want to get to the point where I would jeopardize my ability to take care of Puppet in order to keep the ghost spark safe. I don't want to have to  _ choose." _ A profoundly displeased expression flitted across their face for half a klik. They slid their servos into the frame and cleared their throat, "Nanite generators are built into the struts, with proliferation piping coming from central hubs along the centerline- wire cabling controlled as opposed to a pump for quick release."

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

With a little bit of maneuvering, they uncovered a small generator hub clustered around a central spinal strut. The piping was neat, geometric, carefully optimized for the space it was in. "Immune nanite protocol is the exact same as Salvo's, if he's had problems, do tell me as I've not received complaints thusfar. The hubs are dual-purpose, self-repair and immune, placed next to each other for space efficiency's sake. Surface nanite generators are separate, without a centralized system." They let down the frame and moved around to the helm to gently reposition it for access to the back of the neck. Easing the neck plating away revealed two circular generators on either side of the midline. 

"Before I fled Cybertron I outsourced most organs to makers I know wouldn't graverob. I shouldn't have expected to be able to create structures I don't currently have in working order," Vulcan explained quietly, stepping back from the berth, "Most construction was done prior to my coming here. I've been spending this time on the processor, which... is its own challenge." They brought a servo up to pinch their nasal bridge and stayed there for a moment, trying not to think about their immense sense of doom. When they released their fingers they continued, "That is to say, there are things I know and things I've learned. If the immune placement is wrong it will have been wrong for everyone. I've got the frame plans with an overlay for approximate generator locations."

Vulcan pulled a datapad out of subspace with a hologram emitter and handed it over to Patches before sighing again and turning around to busy their servos with what they uncovered to be an empty electroplating bath.  They pulled out a rod, to which was attached a handful of tiny processor components- newly plated with more conductive material. They pulled two small boxes from one of the shelves and laid them down on the berth. One was cubelike and the other short and wide. They opened the latter box to carefully deposit the new components into, then paused and shut it. They weren't about to work the most intricate part of the frame without complete silence and concentration. But they couldn't hold still for long and instead walked over to the wall to pull down a circular saw, which they laid on the berth. They weren't about to do something as noisy as saw away the cradle  _ now _ but as soon as the chance arose they would take it.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

"What I like..." Sticks said, expression confused for a moment before they raised a single brow ridge. Did they mean... contact things? They didn't suppose the bot meant interface, they got the feeling they would have been considerably more flustered if  _ that's _ what they meant. There were ethics to think about there too, that they tried not to consider too hard given their current line of thought. "Well, I suppose I could show you how to... I've been-ah. Cultivating some organic things," They said finally, this  _ was _ something they liked, "Some plants but mostly insect colonies. I don't know if you're at all interested in organic stuff at all but there are a lot of medicinal uses for different insects."

Sticks smiled a bit sheepishly at Quill, knowing full well this was not a topic most people enjoyed, even medics, "Some of them have paralyzing agents that can be used as local anesthetics if kept properly. Certain strains have enough metallic components in their exoskeletons to be used as replacement plating after some processing. Course, some of them are just." They looked away, blushing a bit, "Some of em are cute and big enough to hug. I can't tell if Nut likes to stick around me cause he likes me or if it's cause I'm just warm. If you want to meet them I can arrange something."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/13/2019**

Spade stood up on the side of the tub and looked over to the pile of their own armor in the corner. What a pain to have to carry that around everywhere, now. They wobbled on their pedes, still a little sore from their summary pounding. Half-falling off the ledge, they landed on the floor and wobbled some more. They were tired. It looked like Arclight was too. They turned to face him, cocking their helm a bit, "You okay? You wanna take the cart?" They paused and moved a little closer to put a servo on his, "You... augh." They shook their helm and walked forward to deposit themself in Arclight's lap. They weren't about to ask if his something was still bothering him. Obviously there  _ was _ something. They lowered their voice and rested the side of their helm against Arclight's stomach, "does it hurt anywhere?"

##  **Betta132** **04/13/2019**

"Oh, sweetie," Patches sighed, and edged over to bump his shoulder into Vulcan's, an attempt at comfort. "It's hardly your fault that you don't know how to build an entire frame. You should have asked, yes, but... I can see why you wouldn't want to trust us with something this sensitive right away. What's done is done, and we can only work on this now. And... we're definitely going to set the T-cog aside for now. They can be a monoformer for a little while, it won't hurt them any. Nanites... I'll trust that you know what you're doing, Salvo's systems are fine with all that. We  _ do _ have some organ tanks that we can start growing things in. Filtration, we'll have to start with the bare minimum and add more in. Should also bring Nati in, I think?" he suggested to Acus, pausing in his inspection. "They have the extra filtration organs. Ah- Nati doesn't feel pain, and was constructed to be an anatomical example. We've used them as sources of filtration organs before, replaced the ones we take from them with basic frameworks for their self-repair to fill in. Normally there would be some ethical questions, but in a bot who doesn't feel pain, post-surgery discomfort isn't a factor any more. And they're- you've met them, Reaver."

Reaver looked a bit like he was in over his helm, mostly with the medical talk, but- yes! He knew Nati. Humming, he COMMed Vulcan a quick snap of Nati, a candid shot of them looking entirely cheerful and unbothered despite having Patches' servo buried in their stomach. "They're an odd one, but lovely. You should meet them."

Patches was doing that thing again, Acus noted, talking to the whole room like some sort of teacher. Glancing up, he lifted his voice just enough for Vulcan to hear him, and didn't quite look at the larger bot. He'd sort out his emotions later. "And if you  _ do _ become less equipped to care for Puppet, you are in a community now. They aren't going to be left to fend for themself. You should try to stay healthy, though. We... might be able to get a larger mech, Bracer or the like, to...?" he ventured, looking up at Patches for input.

"We could, but I'm not sure it could adjust well to another frequency of spark energy," Patches hummed, and stayed right up close to Vulcan. "And I should probably examine  _ you _ . Clearly you aren't feeling terribly well, but how much of that is emotional?" he asked, field flaring a professional sort of caring. Standard trade field for medics who worked with babies.

.

Quill muttered something very soft about having meant petting, but, hey, this worked! Antennae quirking up, they considered Sticks' words for a moment, then offered a 'smile' with their body language. "I-I might like to see, sure. I've, ah. I don't have much experience with organics, though. I never know what's going to...  _ bite _ . Or spit acid. Or bite and inject acid. Or... I-I don't know, the ones I've seen are all small and very fast and I'm not sure I like that," they chuckled, optic squinting up a bit. "I prefer things not jump at my face. If yours  _ don't _ jump at people's faces, I might like to see them. I didn't know anyone could use... well, anything but  _ metal _ as plating, either. Does it... work very  _ well _ ?" they asked, curious, helm cocked slightly. "Do  _ you _ have any? I'm not a medic, clearly, but that's... that's actually very interesting." 

It was! They hadn't known people could do that. Didn't know much about a lot of things, actually. 

.

Duo both jolted in Spade's direction, wanting to catch them, support them,  _ help _ them, but couldn't. Not like this, not by grabbing. Instead, they pushed the cart closer and held it still, quietly trying to offer something useful. 

Arclight glanced at the twins and scoffed, smirking a little. "Pfeh. Tryin'a help," he muttered, hauling himself up onto the cart in lieu of actually standing up, and tried to gather Spade up again. "Mm. Not bad. Wann'... hn. Wanna stick Burner wi' glue. You,  _ sit _ . Get th' armor 'n  _ sit _ . gonna hurt somethin'." 

"Probably  _ will _ hurt something, all" a pause to gesture "naked. Wear towel in public!" Duo declared, and threw a towel... not quite at Spade. Not really.  _ Near _ Spade, landing right in front of them. "No naked in public! Freak people out like that. Put dick away!"

April 14, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **04/14/2019**

Vulcan's optics flashed something indignant for a split-klik at the term of endearment before they remembered Patches was just like that and definitely not someone about to threaten their livelihood or that of any of their family. Still, it caught them offguard, and took them a few moments of silence to catch up to everything he'd said. They ignored his comment about their own frame and moved onto the task at hand, "I've been trying to avoid used components this entire time- had I wanted to do so I would have scavenged- looked for corpses on the black market- something that would have gotten them into a frame sooner. It's not viable for the long term and nobody should be newly created with used parts- lest we invoke the ethics of the power dynamic between natural-born and cold-constructed entities- along with a whole host of physiological complications that may arise from donor organs trying to interact with a spark that is just acclimatizing with its new frame."

Even as they talked Vulcan knew the ship had sailed there. What Patches was pointing to was a great deal of parts- too much to deal with when they still had left to construct the rest of the processor. "Theoretically if I could study a full, working filtration system in detail I could build it on my own faster than it could be grown. But there's  _ just _ not enough time," They buried their face in their servos again and leaned on the berth with their other set, "It will be difficult  _ enough _ dealing with whatever vestigial  spark trauma he's got due to being kept stoked for  _ months _ at a time, and who  _ knows _ how he's been treated- how he'll react to being constantly under medical observation for whatever problems come from however we solve this. I  _ just _ want to make it as easy as I can for him to adjust." 

Vulcan closed their optics and furrowed their brows. There was the option of cutting down recharge time even more, fitting in the extra hours to redo the essential components they'd messed up. They didn't even know if that would be enough. Their grip on their helm tightened, the plates began to creak around their audials and finally burning tears began to crawl out of their optics. It was  _ entirely _ their fault. The little one could very likely already be doomed and they had nobody to blame but themself- for not finishing sooner, for getting injured so badly any "unessential" parts of their frame were gone, for getting their comrade killed- for all of it. And now the unborn energon of the final ghost spark was poised to drench their servos once again and all they could do was offer up the rest of their spark in the hopes they'd die before they saw it happen.

.

##  **Betta132** **04/14/2019**

Reaver, stepping heavily to be sure he was heard, placed a servo on Vulcan's shoulder and then slid up to hug him. "Easy. This is a  _ frame _ , Vulcan. Flaws or not, this is better than no frame. Now, you can be upset about it later if you feel the need. But... you do have a frame in front of you right now, and it is something to work on. Breathe. And... tell me one thing, would you?" he purred, leaning his weight gently into Vulcan. "I can't help but draw a comparison between the storage of this spark, and the carrying of a newspark. Are you aware of it at all?"

Patches eyed Vulcan for a moment, then drew his plating up in a determined manner and reached up to grab Vulcan's servo- pulling it away from his helm, and down. "Come on. Nati lives near here, we're going to go meet them. I can use them as an example to show you what we need to improve on, and- you might want to just see what I mean about some of their frame. Nati was constructed to be a living anatomy example and practice specimen for a medical university. Now, the ethics on that are somewhat dubious, but I  _ can _ tell you that they were treated quite well. I met them in situ before the war, and they were entirely content with their situation. I think you might find them fascinating. Come on," he ordered, and tugged Vulcan towards the door-

Which opened on its own. 

Aponogee was on the other side, holding Puppet cradled in one arm. "Oh, good, they did know where you were," they hummed, and shifted to more or less present Puppet to Vulcan. "They were doing an impression and got stuck."

Puppet was chirping in a wry manner, which currently sounded both muffled and metallic. Mostly because they had their helm in a large, empty paint can. They could  _ see _ , at least- they'd finally managed to convey that Aponogee should just bite a hole in the thin metal over their optics, so they were looking through the hole. That was how they'd gotten here. Vulcan hadn't been at Reaver's berthroom, so this was probably the best place to look, right? Right! Chirping a bit more cheerily, they clicked something to Vulcan, then noticed the open frame and made a quick "chuk!" noise of memory, pushing a pede against the doorframe in an effort to get them both moved back.

Aponogee backed up, looking a little puzzled, and stood well outside the room to get Puppet to stop wriggling. "Uh. Yeah, I-I don't want to... the edges are a little sharp, I don't want to pull on it and hurt them, and I don't think they can move specifically enough to get it off. I know where knives are, but I don't know where their helm is inside, so I don't really want to put a knife against it. Do you have, um... some kind of very careful... what are they called? The little buzzy cutting things. I think we need one of those," they decided, and sat down in the hallway, holding Puppet in their lap.

Yes please. Puppet beeped quietly up at Vulcan, muffled by the can. They didn't seem upset at all, only somewhat annoyed by this development. Grasping the can carefully on its sides, they attempted to lift it straight up, felt an edge press against their neck, and let go, deeming themself unable to position it carefully enough. It had gotten turned around at some point, and they weren't sure how much it would have to be turned back to get it off. Oops. But Vulcan had things to cut metal! Vulcan could cut the can off so Puppet could hear right and see everywhere again.(edited)

Patches made a surprised little noise, one servo coming up to cover his mouth, then started giggling. "Oh, sweetie! Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but- how did you do that? Oh, you're okay, we- we can get that off you. Now, ah- which of you bit the hole in that? Because I don't think you could manage that. Last I checked, your jaw isn't extendable." 

Puppet chirped wryly, sitting back, and pointed up at Aponogee. Who, for their part, shrugged and resumed petting the smaller bot with one servo. "We would have been here sooner, but it took them a long time to tell me to do that, sorry. They couldn't see to tell me where to go. Paint cans don't taste very good." 

.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right! As of Easter 2019, this is all of this thing.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/14/2019**

Sticks shifted a bit to get onto their side, "Some of them do jump but they're not so big. They've got lids on their tanks, too so they're not going to jump at you. Nut's the only one that's out cause he doesn't move around that much. He's got... a lot of legs and tough plates on his back so if you spook him he just curls up. If he's ever bit me I haven't felt it." They had their servo on their hip but their train of thought had veered in a different direction, "Thought maybe cause they're big and have a lot of shell, they could be perfect to farm for materials. Turns out they eat organic things- rotted things, dirt. Shells are strong but not very hard. Not exactly good contenders..." 

Sticks trailed off, somewhat lost, when they felt their servo on their hip and remembered what they were doing. They slid their tasset to the side with a couple fingers and leaned further over to show the top part of their leg plate, "First attempt was to fill in some armor from an old wound. You might be able to see it, doesn't shine like the rest of the plate and it's... admittedly a little lumpy. It seems to have taken paint nanites well enough, though." They sighed and rubbed a finger against it, "Can't find a real practical application yet now that there's a stable supply of metal, but it works in a pinch."

.

Spade picked up the towel and examined it quickly before throwing it over their helm like a cloak. A brief  _ shikt _ and Spade mumbled, "dick is away." They stood up and pat Arclight with a servo before shambling over to their pile. For a moment they just stared down at it. It'd be nice to show Burner they'd been improving, as opposed to showing up naked and seeing that smile she did when she couldn't quite hide she was worried. Slowly they leaned down to pick up a relatively simply shaped piece. It had an inside and an outside and no extra parts- not even any extra compartments- and there was enough light now to properly look for anything. Pulling their new magnets from subspace, they passed one briefly over every face and then, with a deep in-vent set it into their arm. 

Fishing a few more simple pieces out, Spade managed to quickly look at and replace the plating on some of their limbs. They paused, the armor felt heavier than it should. Shaking their helm, they lay the towel down on the floor, gathered up the rest of the armor pieces, then heaved it up and headed back to sit on the cart again. With a deep sigh they crawled back into Arclight's lap. One step at a time, then.

 

Reaver, stepping heavily to be sure he was heard, placed a servo on Vulcan's shoulder and then slid up to hug him. "Easy. This is a frame, Vulcan. Flaws or not, this is better than no frame. Now, you can be upset about it later if you feel the need. But... you do have a frame in front of you right now, and it is something to work on. Breathe. And... tell me one thing, would you?" he purred, leaning his weight gently into Vulcan. "I can't help but draw a comparison between the storage of this spark, and the carrying of a newspark. Are you aware of it at all?"

Patches eyed Vulcan for a moment, then drew his plating up in a determined manner and reached up to grab Vulcan's servo- pulling it away from his helm, and down. "Come on. Nati lives near here, we're going to go meet them. I can use them as an example to show you what we need to improve on, and- you might want to just see what I mean about some of their frame. Nati was constructed to be a living anatomy example and practice specimen for a medical university. Now, the ethics on that are somewhat dubious, but I can tell you that they were treated quite well. I met them in situ before the war, and they were entirely content with their situation. I think you might find them fascinating. Come on," he ordered, and tugged Vulcan towards the door-

Which opened on its own. 

Aponogee was on the other side, holding Puppet cradled in one arm. "Oh, good, they did know where you were," they hummed, and shifted to more or less present Puppet to Vulcan. "They were doing an impression and got stuck."

Puppet was chirping in a wry manner, which currently sounded both muffled and metallic. Mostly because they had their helm in a large, empty paint can. They could see, at least- they'd finally managed to convey that Aponogee should just bite a hole in the thin metal over their optics, so they were looking through the hole. That was how they'd gotten here. Vulcan hadn't been at Reaver's berthroom, so this was probably the best place to look, right? Right! Chirping a bit more cheerily, they clicked something to Vulcan, then noticed the open frame and made a quick "chuk!" noise of memory, pushing a pede against the doorframe in an effort to get them both moved back.

Aponogee backed up, looking a little puzzled, and stood well outside the room to get Puppet to stop wriggling. "Uh. Yeah, I-I don't want to... the edges are a little sharp, I don't want to pull on it and hurt them, and I don't think they can move specifically enough to get it off. I know where knives are, but I don't know where their helm is inside, so I don't really want to put a knife against it. Do you have, um... some kind of very careful... what are they called? The little buzzy cutting things. I think we need one of those," they decided, and sat down in the hallway, holding Puppet in their lap.

Yes please. Puppet beeped quietly up at Vulcan, muffled by the can. They didn't seem upset at all, only somewhat annoyed by this development. Grasping the can carefully on its sides, they attempted to lift it straight up, felt an edge press against their neck, and let go, deeming themself unable to position it carefully enough. It had gotten turned around at some point, and they weren't sure how much it would have to be turned back to get it off. Oops. But Vulcan had things to cut metal! Vulcan could cut the can off so Puppet could hear right and see everywhere again.

Patches made a surprised little noise, one servo coming up to cover his mouth, then started giggling. "Oh, sweetie! Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but- how did you do that? Oh, you're okay, we- we can get that off you. Now, ah- which of you bit the hole in that? Because I don't think you could manage that. Last I checked, your jaw isn't extendable." 

Puppet chirped wryly, sitting back, and pointed up at Aponogee. Who, for their part, shrugged and resumed petting the smaller bot with one servo. "We would have been here sooner, but it took them a long time to tell me to do that, sorry. They couldn't see to tell me where to go. Paint cans don't taste very good." 

.

Quill looked vaguely unnerved but mostly fascinated, and would probably have reached to touch if not for their poor tactile sensation and the fact that it was, uh. Kind of in a personal area to touch. "Wow. I... I didn't know that was... huh. You're part  _ bug _ ," they chuckled, optic slitting in amusement. "But only a little bit." 

They weren't going to touch, but they were definitely going to look. "How did you figure out you could do that? Were you already learning to be a medic before you got here?" 

Prior upset forgotten and field content, they blinked and stretched, sitting up to chat with Sticks more easily. They still had their bandaged claw kept close to their frame, but, calm, didn't seem to feel any pain in it.

.

Arclight stayed quiet and still, watching Spade, and very carefully didn't touch anywhere Spade was working on. Didn't seem like the best plan, the touching. Might stir up some ghosts. Just... sit. Watch. Be present. That was the good thing to do here, right?

Duo waited, fidgeting in place and adjusting imaginary things on the handle of the wagon, until everything was gathered up. Then- ah! Time to go! It wouldn't be far, though, they were on the same ship level as the sparring areas. Those were probably the most appropriate places to do things involving glue, they decided, and set off at a trot. Time to go! Quick, too, before Spade's ghosts caught up again. 

The closest sparring/general motions area (the ship had several, including one mostly for acrobatics- had to give soldiers active things to do) was also one of the emptier ones. One area of the room had padding on the floor for wrestling, and that corner of the wall was padded as well, but the rest of the room was empty. There was, however, a minibot-sized staircase on one wall, leading up to a balcony that would put them out of reach of most bots. Great for watching a sparring match without having to worry about being  _ squashed _ . Also, evidently, at least some of it was Crucible's work- the railing all looked as though someone had twisted it into shape with their bare servos. Duo put the cart in the corner, next to all the padding, then grinned and begun to unload spare glue grenades. The glue was easy enough to make, and the grenade pieces could generally be picked out of the mess, de-glued, and reassembled, so they might as well use up some of these on calming Spade down. "Want to get Burner to throw at?"

##  **Malusdraco** **04/14/2019**

Vulcan resisted Patches's pull slightly but stood up straight when they saw Aponogee's form. The split-klik surge of adrenaline and anxiety faded away as they saw that Puppet in Aponogee's arms was moving and  _ displeased _ as opposed to hurt. They quickly wiped at their optics and walked over to where the two had positioned themselves in the hall. They managed somewhat of a pained smile in greeting and leaned over to slip their fingers under the can to see where it was stuck. Much to their distaste, their servos trembled, clacking slightly against the metal. With an annoyed click of their glossa, they pulled away, turning back into the room. 

"I'm well aware of the process of carrying," Vulcan said at last in response to Reaver's question. They pushed past him and the medics to first cover the nascent frame again and then to search the wall of tools. Pulling down a small, handheld circular saw, they continued, "I... was once the type to try such a thing." Their voice was low as they returned to the contingent in the hallway and knelt down beside Puppet again. They positioned their servos but waited and sighed speaking very quietly, "My gestation tank is gone now, if that is any indication of how it went." 

Vulcan again reached underneath the rim of the bucket to feel their way to a safe spot that wasn't in front of Puppet's face. They gently tilted the bot's helm until they picked out a spot, "Try to be as still as possible, dear, I don't want to knick you. It's going to be a little loud inside there. Poke me if it gets too bad." Putting a servo not currently in use on Puppet's shoulder, they went to work. The saw buzzed and made some rather unpleasant noises against the metal, but Vulcan went slow, a couple inches at a time, spaced between pauses to feel out where they would need to go next.

When at last the saw reached the top of the can, Vulcan turned it off and took each half in one large servo. With a single tug outward, the can buckled along the top plane and easily lifted off. They set the remnant on the floor, subspaced the saw and looked carefully at where they'd just cut to make sure they hadn't gotten Puppet in the process. Their face was still the deadset kind of serious that only came out when they were trying to pull themself together. Satisfied they hadn't hurt the bot, they sat back on their pedes and looked Puppet in the optics. Their facade seemed to slide a bit. Their vents got heavier until finally they cleared their throat, "May I have a hug, dear?" Their voice was quiet, "I'm afraid I have no good news."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **04/14/2019**

Spade nodded and sat quietly for a klik before comming Burner.  _.:Hey. You- wanna hang out?:. _

Burner sat up, surprised  _.:Spade! Tell me where:. _

_.:Lower decks, sparring gym. Be prepared for combat practice:. _

_.:Combat? Okay...:. _ Burner replied, getting up from her seat. She stretched her limbs a few kliks before adding  _.:Did you tell them yet?:. _ and finally leaving.

Spade sighed and responded with a simple  _.:No:. _

A few minutes later Burner trotted into the gym. She looked limber, with a warm haze around her face that gave away her quick jog here. The first figures she saw were Duo, followed by Arclight and then finally she spotted Spade, who had pushed themself as close to Arclight as they could. They waved to her. It was clear by the way she looked around she couldn't quite piece together what was going on. She nodded to Duo but couldn't help her optics from locking onto Arclight's frame. A klik to realize just how fucked it was and she gave them a slight smile, "New face, huh? Burner. Spade's friend." She stepped within handshake distance, keeping outside of Spade's bubble- that she'd figured out on day two. She looked down at the bot and spotted the small pile of armor. Her smile got even more pained, "Bad day, huh." 

"You could say that," Spade said, leaning forward a bit from Arclight's belly.

"Looks like you made a new friend though," Burner said, once again looking back at Arclight, "S'your name?"

##  **Betta132** **04/14/2019**

Reaver... didn't really know what to do with all of that, or with any of this. Nor did he want to get too close to Vulcan and accidentally, what, trip on them or something of the sort. Not while they had a saw. Therefore, he went with the only thing left to do, aside from unrelated things or trying to comfort Reaver. Go and inspect the little frame. He didn't dare touch, but surely it was all right to look? Especially since Acus was... very-much-more-than-touching, fishing around in the frame's internals with both servos and paying almost zero attention to everything else.

Puppet grumbled considerably, but didn't try to pull away, and actually managed to not fidget too much. As soon as the can was off, they shivered and chirped loudly, reaching up to paw at where the can had been clinking against their audials as Aponogee had moved. Ugh. They didn't like being stuck in things! But they weren't left with much time to wonder, because then Vulcan was, oh. Vulcan was sad! That wasn't okay. Puppet, determined, tugged the apron off of Vulcan's frame in order to get proper contact, then crawled up into Vulcan's lap and pressed tight against them. As tight as possible, curled up, helm against their upper chassis to listen to the sparkbeat, arms snug around them. Another couple of chirps, then they cooed gently, looked up at Vulcan, and reset their vocalizer. "Chk. 'Can? 'Can. Vlll. Vll-can. Vllcan," Puppet crooned, snuggling into Vulcan's throat. They'd been practicing!

"Oh,  _ sweetie _ ," Patches cooed, and, after a quick glance back, pulled the curtain back across the room. It enclosed Acus, but Acus would be fine to work on his own. He liked some level of quiet and privacy. Actually, working behind a curtain was probably perfect for him. And, oh, he was going to try to haul the both of them off to talk to Nati, but, wow! Puppet didn't talk. Ever. This was a new and adorable thing. Best not to disturb it. Nati could wait a few minutes. 

.

Arclight... hn. Didn't know what to make of this. He wasn't sure he liked it. Hunching down tighter, they held Spade close, protective, and  _ almost _ moved as if to shake Burner's servo. They didn't, though. They reached slightly, hesitated strongly, and pulled back. No. No touching. Not this... extroverted... not the bot who was doing expressions, emotions, at Spade. They weren't sure this was comfortable. But, fuck, nothing was comfortable. "Arclight," he muttered, then straightened his spine and bared his dentae at some imaginary specter off to the side somewhere. "My  _ name _ is Arclight." 

That was his name. He had a  _ name _ . Not "pet" or "little decepticon" or "battery".

"Got things going on," Duo shrugged in the background, and held up a glue grenade before piling the whole collection of them in front of Spade. "Glue grenades! For self-defense, mostly. Safe! Just sticky," they noted, turning a grenade over to show how it worked. Pull a small pin, then press a button until it clicked, then throw it. A sparkbeat later, still in midair, it detonated. A fairly small explosion, actually- a little pop, sending its segments flying apart, that sent a huge, splattering puddle of whitish glue scattering into the air. It coated a not inconsiderable amount of floor, already hardened a fraction by the time it hit the ground, and rapidly hardened further into a rubbery substance. More than enough to make a mess of someone, and make it hard to get anywhere! Harmless enough, though. Duo, plating flared, practically up on tip-pede in excitement, they turned to grin to Burner, playfully juggling another two (or possibly three) grenades between all eight of their combined arms. "Want to demonstrate! Buut... hard to demonstrate without proper  _ target _ . Need to be loose in order to dispense substances to un-stick glue. So, need active, healthy target. Hm?"(edited)

April 15, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Monday at 11:36 AM**

Vulcan was in the midst of preparing themself to deliver the news when they heard Puppet's vocalizer click on and they froze. Their breath caught in their throat. Their optics widened in surprise as Puppet managed their  _ name. _ "You-" They breathed, field flickering  _ thrilled/sad/surprised/LOVE _ as a tear fell down their face, "You-" their vocalizer distorted, one tear became more- "you..." became many. They couldn't hold much in any more and wrapped all four arms around Puppet, the smile on their face was as genuine as their tears. Something halfway between a laugh and a sob wrung its way out of their vents. They pushed their face past Puppet's shoulder, continuing their gasping laugh. "You- you  _ did _ it," they finally managed, murmuring into the cracks between their arms. Their vocalizer wavered and skipped, "Puppet you di-id it."

They couldn't find the words, not really. There were so many things to say- so many things they would discuss later- so many whirling emotions they thought they had a hold on before that seemed to catch in their vocalizer like insects in a net. They barely knew what to do with them all. Another quiet sob blew through their frame. They drew themself closer around Puppet and began to gently rock back and forth. Their field sparkled with a strong outpouring of pride  and  _ love _ but couldn't take off from the depths of their trepidation from before. Still, they had one. No matter if Salvo didn't ever accept them. No matter if the final ghost spark slipped into eternal sleep. It would always be Puppet, before anyone else, before even the dormant one, it would be them.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Monday at 11:45 AM**

It took a while for Vulcan to find their voice again. Their vents steadied at last. "I'll love you, dear, till the end of time," they whispered, moving to pet the back of Puppet's helm, "I'm so  _ proud _ of you. I can't imagine how difficult that was, but you  _ did _ it." Finally they broke away enough to look the bot in the optics. Their proud smile fell to something distinctly sad and they sighed, "I'd like to know how you did it, but I must tell you the news." They took a deep breath, "The little one's frame is flawed- the medics have looked it over. It will take quite a bit longer for us to properly meet them now. Which means..." they paused as their face became more pained, "the chances of him living for any reasonable amount of time are getting slimmer, I'm afraid." Their voice got even quieter, "We're all going to be doing our best for him. We're talking about options now." A sigh and they sat up, servos on Puppet's shoulders, "Things will likely change for a bit, too, as we try to fix things and finish them up. More people in the room... So... prepare yourself, dear."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Monday at 1:07 PM**

"Target?" Burner said incredulously and looked at Spade, more amused than anything else, "You said this was combat practice."

"Combat against glue grenades," Spade said, shrugging.

"Ya missed a lot of words there, buddy," Burner said, unable to keep a grin off her face. They and this Arclight bot seemed... close. Spade hadn't yet gotten the nerve to trust her enough for that yet. It was... good, she decided. The fact they were out too and not cooped up in their room was a good sign, too, even if most of their armor was sitting somewhere not on them. She didn't mind being stuck to things if it meant they'd feel better, "Well target practice I'll be on the one condition you let me try to dodge." Spade replied with a noncommittal shrug. She looked to Arclight, then, optics soft but bright, "Course you've got full permission to stick me too, Arclight."

With a half-grin she turned to Duo, putting her servos on her hips, "Well don't  _ you _ look excited. Tell me where you want me to stand... or run, or whatever."

##  **Betta132** **Last Monday at 1:40 PM**

Puppet squeaked at the surge of emotions, but nuzzled happily into Vulcan, holding them close. "Did, did, did-it," they cooed, because that's what Aponogee had said, too, and those were words. They'd realized, after chewing on Vulcan's name for as long as they had the patience, that some words worked. Really, they'd given up on words somewhat before this, deeming them all far too frustrating, but this... this was good. It was very good. Vulcan was so happy! 

At least, until they weren't, and it got back into... oh. Right. Vulcan's other son, who was... asleep? Puppet hadn't quite been sure on the details of how that worked. In storage, somehow, tucked away in there. Like Puppet had been, before, but in something instead of being moved around and- ugh. It seemed much nicer in there, snug up against Vulcan's frame, than in a tank. Not that Puppet had really been aware of most of the things involving the tank, but, still, ugh.

##  **Betta132** **Last Monday at 2:00 PM**

"Oh, sweetie," Patches whispered again, listening to Puppet's little squeaks, and sat down next to the two of them. "Now, I never know how to talk to you," he admitted, "I never know what level to use. I worked with children, you see? You have a lot of... childish mannerisms, and the noises remind me of the little ones. But I think you're an adult, or something like it. So, I'll treat you like you're an adult. And I'll be honest, Puppet, this is going to be tricky. But Vulcan did the best they could with what they had, with what they knew. So... now it's our turn. Vulcan- Acus is going to take a good, close look, figure out what needs to be done. After that, I'd like to take that little frame to the medbay. We have more equipment there, it'll be safer and within easy reach of safety equipment for when we install the spark, and it'll mean we can work on it without disturbing you two constantly. I'm going to be making that frame top priority, all right? Puppet, we're going to do the best we can. I can't promise that it'll be okay, I'm afraid. But I can promise we're going to try. So, I'd like to introduce you two to Nati. Partly to show you what we need, and partly because, Vulcan, you can help better if you know what you're looking for. So... you keep ahold of them, why don't you? Hold your son. Aponogee, do you-"

"We made a mess, I'm going to go fix it," Aponogee hummed, and reached down to rub Puppet's helm. "I want to come back to play with you some more later. But I'm going to fix the mess first," they decided, standing up carefully. "I hope you finish building whoever that is."

Patches stood up as well, field a clingy, inviting purr, and looked back over his shoulder as he set off. "Come on. I've called Nati, and they're at home. We're going to go look at their weird anatomy so you can have an idea of what's up next. I'm going to say mostly the filtration units. And I know you don't like it much, but, Vulcan- we're going to have to go for the bare minimum here. Enough to keep them alive, healthy, and not in any pain or discomfort. We need that spark transferred into the frame as soon as possible.  _ After _ they're alive and stable, we can add their T-cog and the like. And I'm going to have to set that line. I know you want perfection for them, but we need  _ safety _ , first. You can give them perfection later. Come on now- time for productivity."

.

Duo flopped down on the edge of the padding, grinning, and each gave Burner a cheery little wave. "Just not on padding. Easier to unstick from floor. Go- shoo! Spade, grenades are safe, but unpleasant on face. Best results, aim at legs. Thighs, knees. Just in front, around shins, if bot is advancing. Can also throw at chassis, stomach, to tangle arms. Funnier just on legs. Here- empty, just for throwing practice," they offered, handing Spade a couple of blank grenades with no ability to explode or come apart. "For real ones- pull pin, press button, throw quick. No holding! Too small to hold, get covered in glue. Also- explosion, not great in servo. Not  _ damaging _ , but, ow." 

Arclight picked up and pondered a grenade, but didn't throw it, just watched Burner get to moving around. He wasn't entirely sure that it would be welcomed for  _ him _ to throw things at Burner, who he didn't know. Besides, hey- he had welders. People didn't touch the bot who could melt bits of their plating out. He was okay. Glue grenades might be fun, but mostly he was okay in the self-defense department. Spade needed defenses, though. He didn't know who the fuck anyone else is, or who this was, or what she wanted, but he knew Spade needed protection.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Monday at 5:48 PM**

Vulcan frowned and stood up, holding Puppet in the crook of an arm. They bent over to pick up and subspace the apron and followed Patches down the hall. They in-vented as if to speak several times but hesitated every time, reformatting what they wanted to say. Part of them desperately wanted to question Puppet on what else they'd learned- they'd  _ meant _ it when they said they were proud- but a larger part was annoyed. Something about the arrangement felt wrong. Finally they picked their angle, "Patches, as much as I don't like the idea of moving the frame to the medbay, I recognize it's a necessity now. I expect you'll... make sure people know how to properly care for it. I  _ expect _ that." They repeated, more earnestly. The idea of leaving the frame somewhere they weren't near where anyone could potentially get near it, or mishandle it after millennia of keeping it secure was stoking an anxious tension in their frame. They didn't like the idea of people  _ working on it _ without them around. But that was a fact they'd have to come to terms with. 

"But what I object to is you-is  _ everyone _ insinuating this is about  _ perfection. _ " Vulcan said, finally, "It hasn't  _ been _ about perfection since my last Autobot requisition-  _ maybe _ since I did frame layout. It's about making a frame that's easy to live in-that won't cause him issue. I'm not so prideful as to put some ideal of perfection over the life of my  _ son. _ " They clenched a fist and grit their teeth for a moment, but eased up. It was not worth getting angry about. Words were not actions. They were getting  _ help _ finally, why did it feel so much like they were being forced to abandon the frame to someone else? "And I resent any implications as such," they finished, more than a little sullen, hefting Puppet further up onto their side. 

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Monday at 6:16 PM**

Spade nodded at Duo and made a shooing motion towards Burner, who wasn't paying attention. Rather she'd caught her gaze on the pile of grenades on the floor. Burner's mumbled under her breath"Are you gonna throw  _ all _ of those a-" Spade wound up and flung an empty casing at her. Their aim went rather high so up close and the casing careened towards her helm until  _ smakt _ with surprising speed, her servo came up to knock it away. As quick as she pushed it away, she caught it before it could hit the ground. For a split-klik her optics flashed something intense. "None of that, now," she said, voice low in warning. 

Spade looked genuinely apologetic, "Didn't mean to throw it that high, sorry." They paused, then added, "wanted to hit your massive rack instead."

"A worthy target," her optics softened back to normal and her affable tone came back, "CQC programming might just getcha, Spade. Watch where you throw things." She shrugged a bit and stretched her neck before stepping back a few steps. "You get one freebie so make it count-  _ bitch, _ " she said, aggressively but with a playful glint in her optic. With that she set off at a brisk jog around the perimeter of the floor, slowing down a great deal and looking the other way nonchalantly when she rounded the corner again where everyone was sitting.

Spade, who'd picked up one of the real grenades, did as Duo told. Pull pin, push button and throw it as far as they could. Which... wasn't that far. The grenade exploded just behind Burner's pede, catching just the tip in a gooey blob. The femme stumbled a bit but remained standing, "You  _ mi- _ well you didn't miss actually, technically," Burner said, looking back at her pede. She tried to pull it out of the glue and met with enough resistance she stopped, "Gotta work on your aim, buddy."

Spade's face was stony. It was clear they weren't pleased but not exactly clear why.

##  **Betta132** **Last Monday at 7:53 PM**

Patches paused, a completely baffled look on his face, and continued with his helm cocked slightly as he looked towards Vulcan. "Why on Cybertron  _ wouldn't _ you want perfection? This is essentially your  _ child _ , and it's going to be a person in there. Why wouldn't you want their frame to be perfect? I would. This was something I had to learn- see, I was a pediatrician before the war. When little ones came in injured, I'd go for perfection, or the closest I could. As little scarring as possible. I had to build an arm for a little mech born with just one at one point, and I made it as perfect as I could. But I had to un-learn that to some extent when I learned to be a field medic, because there's no  _ time _ for perfect. If we could, believe me- I would be right there with you to build perfection. It's hard to do only the bare minimum for something, but that's what we have time for. I'm not sure we even have that much time, honestly, but we'll have to hope that we do." he sighed, offering them a little... not-quite-a-smile. "All right? I'm not attacking you. Not least because the only parts of this that are about you are the parts about not killing you. And, by the way- we can set up a berth for you in the medbay so you can be closer, if you'd like."

##  **Betta132** **Last Monday at 8:24 PM**

Engine purring gently, he walked alongside Vulcan for the remainder of the short walk, then knocked politely on a door. Someone had sculpted  _ Nati _ from a few wires, the letters a bit clumsy but the lines smooth, and hung it on the door. After a moment, someone called "come in!" and Patches did, field extending in a thrumming purr. "Hello, sweetie! May I borrow you?"

Nati set a half-twisted wire sculpture on a table with the wires they'd been using to make it, standing up out of their chair, and happily walked over to their berth. Well- the thing they used as a berth. It was actually a long, coffin-like crate, the inside padded heavily, some crumpled blankets inside. Pushing the lid shut to show some thin padding on the top, they climbed on top and laid down, arms at their sides, watching Patches with a quietly friendly expression. "What do you need me for?"

"Anatomy example, as usual, and possibly for a filtration organ or two," Patches hummed, stroking their stomach momentarily, then glanced back at Vulcan. "Nati was built to be a living anatomy example, and practice for budding surgeons. No pain sensors. They aren't a perfect anatomy example because they have a lot of redundancies, but you should be able to see what we're working towards. Here- have a look." 

"I'm flexible," Nati hummed, completely still, helm slightly to the side to look at Vulcan. "Really- I like this sort of thing! I like the attention, and being helpful. You won't hurt me, come see," they trilled, arching their back a little, then relaxed again. They'd evidently had a drink recently, as their fuel tank was a particularly bright area in their frame, glowing distinctly as it worked through the energon. It was, to just about anyone with anything approaching an anatomy interest, thoroughly fascinating.

Puppet was distracted by the table, at first. Lots of shiny wire things, lots of half-made sculptures. A lot like how many of Vulcan's anatomy pictures looked. Lots of organs. Then they looked over at Nati, got a  _ proper _ look, and their optics gleamed fascination. Squeaking slightly, they wriggled free of Vulcan's arms and trotted over to the berth-slash-crate, gripping Patches' arm with one servo for support. Optics wide, they reached out to touch Nati's face, then paused, hesitant, watching where they could just barely see the outline of Nati's dentae through their cheek. Woah. 

"Hello," Nati purred, and didn't object or, really, move, as Puppet touched their face. "I'm Nati. Have I met you? 

Puppet clicked a quiet greeting, leaning over the berth, and stroked down to touch their chassis. They could see the structures under the thin, transparent plating- transparent! No one had transparent armor! Wow!(edited)

##  **Betta132** **Last Monday at 8:58 PM**

.

Duo cackled and flopped back down onto the mat, gesturing somewhat dramatically to Burner. "Trapped! See? Can add another grenade or two, contain further, tangle arms- hm?" they prompted, then paused and looked down at Spade, helms cocked. Something was wrong. "Too heavy to throw? Can make" some rather wild gesturing and catapult-like motions "throwing stick. Cup on end, stick, acts as lever, extends arm length, throw further. Have some, but for selves, maybe too big. Want?" they asked, gently, helms ducked to get a good look at Spade. Then, oh, right, they both remembered that Spade didn't like that and switched to looking at the floor. What was going on there, hm? "Glue is harmless. Burner, easy to get out. The trapping... bad here?" they ventured, fingertips tapping together in quick drumming motions. What was up? What about this was upsetting Spade? 

Arclight noticed, too, and didn't know what to do about it. In lieu of anything useful, he bundled Spade up closer and held, gently, just in case that would help at all.

April 16, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 12:00 PM**

Vulcan paused in the hallway, optics wide as they looked back at Patches- they hadn't expected him to  _ understand, _ Primus knew why. With an apologetic sigh, their face softened at last. "I'm sorry I got angry," they said, putting a servo on Patches' shoulder. There was more to unpack, for certain, but they'd leave it at an apology.

By the time the door to Nati's room opened they had calmed down for the most part but they stood stock still in the doorway. Well, this was something to think about besides what they were going to do with the frame. What could possibly be more distracting than a mech with  _ clear _ plating. His optics darted all over Nati's frame as he stepped in the room. The picture hadn't lied, Patches hadn't lied when he said they were a medical specimen. But still, seeing them sitting there was something entirely different. They looked to Nati's face and gave them a fake-ish smile- they weren't about to discuss frame ethics in front of the mech in question and  _ especially _ in their own room. They couldn't, however, keep themself from drawing closer, it  _ was _ very neat, as disgusting as it was someone went through the trouble to make someone on full display- they couldn't even imagine the  physical ramifications. They sure hoped the mech wasn't- yep, nope, thankfully their creator had enough forethought not to subject the poor thing to constant nudity. 

Vulcan walked up beside Puppet, putting a stabilizing servo on their back. "Dear, one should get permission to touch  _ before _ touching," they whispered to Puppet before standing up to full and addressing Nati, "Hello, Nati- is it? My name is Vulcan and this is Puppet." A pause, they really couldn't let it go, "Do you happen to know who made you? Their name? And did you have..." they waved their servo looking for the right term, "siblings? As such."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 12:18 PM**

Spade frowned a bit and shook their helm, "I missed." Their tone was cheery but their voice had an edge to it that easily gave up they were actually  _ bothered _ by the fact. 

"Not really?" Burner said, "I mean you got my pede."

"I wasn't  _ aiming _ there" Spade whined, "It just barely got you. Didn't really stop you all that well."

"Still-" she pulled agains the glue, "Still stuck."

Spade didn't look like they were convinced. Burner frowned, "Look, okay, maybe your aim's a little bad but-okay first? Stand up." Spade frowned deeper and didn't move. "You wanna throw good you gotta get practice and get up off your  _ aft- _ " Burner paused as Spade finally stood and she saw once again the extent to which their frame was bare. She adamantly looked to their face instead "Right- now square up, shoulders, hips and when you throw, put your hip into it." She bent down to pull (with great effort) one of the grenade pieces out of the glue. "See you just-" Slowly she mimed out the movement, one leg down thanks to the glue. She emphasized the rotation of her hips. One more time very slowly, accompanied by assorted onomatopoeia and then she threw it for real. It zipped out of her servo at jet speed and hit the wall with a  _ crack. _

"Haha! Like that!" Burner cheered. She turned around just in time to catch the blank Spade threw at her. "Nice, that one, threw much harder that time."

Spade clicked their glossa.

" _ Practice, _ mech, you need it," Burner said, softer, "S'what I'm doing, here right?"

##  **Betta132** **Last Tuesday at 1:47 PM**

"I don't know who made me, but I know who commissioned me. He told me his name once, but everyone called him Professor anyway. And, no. No siblings. They only needed one of me. You're doing a face," Nati observed, looking up at Vulcan.

"I don't know if you remember meeting me, but I did a face, too," Patches chuckled, petting Nati's stomach with one servo, and glanced over to Vulcan. "I knew the bot who commissioned them. He wanted a sort of... middle step, between working on the synth-frames and working on live patients. A 'patient' who didn't feel pain, could calmly tell them what was going on, and wouldn't bleed out. Nati has a lot of redundant lines, so someone could damage, say, their primary fuel line to their T-cog, and they wouldn't be in any danger as it was fixed. Their self-repair is  _ amazing _ . But, as I'm sure you can imagine, there are and especially  _ were _ some social ramifications to being  _ transparent _ . It tends to make people uneasy, for understandable reasons," he sighed, field pulsing something wry. "The commissioner- he didn't mean any harm. You know the academic types, sometimes they get detached from the real world. And he did treat them very well. I'm not defending his choice to have someone made like  _ this _ , it's morally questionable at best, but... it was never meant to be cruel. Oh, but I could have smacked him for this!" he scolded at nothing in particular, then sighed, patting Nati's chassis. "They've heard all this sort of thing before. But, moral discussions aside- they make a lovely example, and we're not harming them by using these odd features of theirs."

"If you need someone strong, you go get Bracer. If there's rats in something, you ask Gravescratch. If you need an anatomy example, you ask me," Nati hummed, idly fidgeting a bit of wire between two fingertips. "And I don't want to be hard on the Professor. I do kinda wish I'd been made to be able to be not transparent, but he was nice to me, and I liked my job. I liked the attention, and teaching people how to help people. And it was fun sometimes when I got to help with the other classes. Especially" a slight pause, and their cheeks flushed bright in an extremely visible blush, "the  _ reproductive anatomy _ specialists. That... that was a  _ really _ fun class when I got to do it," they giggled, optics bright.

##  **Betta132** **Last Tuesday at 2:03 PM**

"That  _ did _ sound fun, one of my interns told me about it," Patches muttered, and gently spread the cables in Nati's stomach, exposing their T-cog. "Here. This is what a 'cog is supposed to look like. Nati, Vulcan's building a frame from scratch to put a stored spark in, so they need a good example of what the organs should look like. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Nati purred, and offered Vulcan a soft, genuine smile. "Really. It doesn't hurt,  _ nothing _ hurts. It actually feels kinda nice. You're fine. Hm- Puppet, right? Check out my ankles, that's out of the way and you can look at all the parts in there," they prompted, field purring something quiet, contented, and inviting as Puppet moved to pet their legs. "I feel safe. Go ahead." 

.

Duo glanced at each other, then dramatically slumped down onto the padding, lying in a limp heap across each other. "Oh nooo," they keened dramatically, rolling their optics towards Spade, "not  _ immediately perfect _ at things! Have to  _ practiiiice _ , actually work, takes effort to be good. Oh no. Might not be  _ perfect _ at first. Might have to be just  _ okay _ at first. Boo." 

Hopefully the playful mockery was an appropriate and helpful response. Spade was going to be whiny, so, fine! They'd also be whiny! Maybe it would... something helpful. Worth a try! 

Arclight made a snorting noise and tucked his helm against Spade's back, mostly out of the way of the throwing-parts, optics shut and frame relaxed. Duo weren't up to anything, Burner was glued to the floor a distance away, and Spade was  _ complainy _ but not hurt, so he could... relax. Think. Shut his optics for awhile and... mm. Doze?

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 4:04 PM**

Vulcan still frowned a bit but leaned over to get a better look at what Patches was showing them. "It's not a matter of you, or  _ this _ it's a matter of, well, the principle of it," They said almost absentmindedly as they reached in and pushed away more of Nati's stomach cables, "There's an accountability for the  _ creation _ of someone that the creator must have. All the ramifications that someone  _ existing _ must deal with." They leaned in closer, flipping a lens down over one of their optics to get a better look at the structures, "Social, physiological, ethical-  _ all _ must be considered before the spark is delegated to the frame. Nobody has a say in their own creation, but especially not cold-constructed bots." 

It was a conversation they'd come back to over and over again. As they learned more and more the demands for cold-constructed frames, they were pushed to think about their relationship to it all. Constantly restructuring, constantly rethinking, today was no different. "Probably not anything you've heard before, I suppose." They added after a contemplative pause. Clicking their glossa, they pulled back a bit, "You're right, this is much different than what I was working from. I don't have one of my own anymore, so I obtained one through... dubious provenance. Organic auction- I didn't go out and  _ kill _ someone. Organics do tend to have a rather  _ morbid _ fascination with us, don't they?" They stood up and flicked their magnifying lens back up, then pinched the bridge of their nose, "It was even enough I'd say it was malformed as opposed to broken, which... doesn't make me feel any better about it." They looked to Patches, a concerned expression on their face, "It's worth noting the frame has two alt modes -landbound and flier, I don't believe I've seen enough t-cogs to know if they're any different."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 7:57 PM**

Spade's wings hitched a bit in indignation as even Burner couldn't hold back her amusement, "How the fuck am I supposed to  _ defend _ myself if I can't throw these right?"

"Ah so  _ that's _ what this is about," Burner said, quickly banishing the giggles from her system, "Well I can tell you what I'm not gonna do. I'm not gonna go hurt you. You know this. Pit, I'll even abstain from throwing slag back at you. Nothin. You're safe here." She shifted back a bit, "throw as much as you want at me. I can't guarantee I'm not gonna reflexively hit it. But I'm not someone who's gonna hurt you. Fail or not, it's fine. You're safe."

Spade's optics flicked from Burner to the floor and they took a deep breath in. It  _ was _ fine, for the moment. They were fairly certain Burner wouldn't be an enemy any time soon. Having almost failed this once didn't necessarily point to future failures. Not  _ necessarily, _ but it begged the question: Had Burner been intent on hurting them, would they still be alive? It wasn't a guarantee.

"I know that face," Burner said. Spade looked up, optics just the slightest bit too wide. Burner was staring at them. "You're thinking too much," she continued, "You should stop thinking and just- yanno, throw things. You're only gonna get better at it."

Spade took her advice and followed up with a real grenade. Burner, having caught the movement before registering what it  _ was _ reached out to bat it away just as it exploded with enough force to pin her dominant arm to her chassis. Now this one was really stuck there, glue hardened all the way up her forearm to against her stomach. 

She stood there surprised as she registered what happened, then grinned, "See, I  _ told _ you to throw from your hips."

##  **Betta132** **Last Tuesday at 8:46 PM**

Patches paused, then sighed, voice taking on the slightest tone of 'is it not obvious' despite his best efforts to contain it. "Yes. A triple-changer's T-cog is different. More structure to it, more petals. Nati's alt is a fairly... I'd call it a generic alt, really, a little car. Utterly fascinating to look at, by the way. A Seeker's cog tends to be set up with more springs to it, designed for a faster transformation, midair, if needed. A triple-changer's is more complicated, and will take more time to properly rig. But- doable."

"I've heard a lot of things," Nati hummed, looking up at Vulcan, not paying much attention to where Puppet was prodding their calves. "There's a lot of talk about hypotheticals and ethics. All I know is, I exist now, and I exist like this. My frame doesn't like paint, it's itchy, and my self-repair doesn't know what to do with armor. It would take a lot of work to make me different, and I don't want to have that much trouble. This works. I have friends! I'm comfortable. I don't get shot at a lot even when people are shooting, because sometimes they think I'm a  _ ghost _ . I'm happy. I'm safe. I don't get less happy or less safe with you doing this. It's okay, you don't have to worry about me," they cooed, and patted Vulcan's arm. "You should save the worrying for people who need it."

Patches chuckled lightly, stroking the cables back into place in Nati's stomach, then parted them in another area. "I should hope you have some of these filtration units left, or I'm going to have to put  _ you _ on my patient list. I think we have some of these in storage- sometimes contaminants or poisons will fry a bot's entire filtration system. Let's see... that's mostly it. That fuel tank is a bit oddly shaped, but I don't see any reason it shouldn't work. And then the rest is a lot of tweaking of the different lines. I'll tell you what I'm going to do- I'm going to ask Reaver and Acus to wrap that frame in the insulating curtain and bring it to the medbay. Reaver's played medbay assistant before, he's a sensible one, and Acus is familiar with empty frames. We're going to work on all the organs, all right? For the processor... I'd think you might want to see Forceps for some assistance, they're amazing with micro-circuitry. If we can get the organs going, we can fill the veins and artificially trigger the fuel pump, at least make sure everything is in properly while we get everything worked out further. How does that sound?"

Vulcan's answer had better be something like "fine", because Patches wasn't really going to accept anything else. Really- they could have been so much further along at this point! Had the medbay not seemed competent? Patches kept his fuming to himself, deeming it unhelpful and likely to make things worse, but- ooh! Shortsighted! Foolish! Stubborn! At least Scalpel wasn't this prone to setting her pedes and denying help when it involved someone  _ else _ , Primus. 

.

"Nudity, also not great for defense," Duo pointed out, visibly glad that their mockery had, at least indirectly, helped. "Can stay near friends for protection until ready. Practice now, is safe. Look- caught!" they declared, springing to their pedes with remarkable agility for bots who'd been sprawled flat on the ground a moment before, and trotted over to Burner. "No more glue! Poking situation," they declared, and circled around Burner a couple of times, inspecting her. "Very trapped. Leg glue- hold still." 

Whistling a tune to each other, they pulled a bottle from subspace and poured it onto two little pen-knives, quickly using the blades to cut the bit of glue attached to Burner's pede away from the rest of it. No knives right up on her pede, just into the glue. Best not to spook her any. 

Once Burner could walk (albeit not with the best balance, considering the rest of the glue), they got back out of the way, skittering over to put the bottle near Spade. "Solvent. Best not left on plating long-term, not great for paint, but not harmful unless in optics. Knives, not required, just faster. Pour on glue, peel away. Now- again! Try higher. Go on, can spit acid if Burner" a bit of gesturing in her direction "turns evil somehow and trapping doesn't work."(edited)

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 10:38 PM**

Vulcan sighed heavily, there was still something about this that bothered him. It felt like... it felt like  _ failure, _ it felt like giving up. Well it  _ was _ failure, on the most basic level it was. He'd failed to do what he'd set out to do and now he was paying the price- physically, mentally, emotionally. It felt as if he wasn't going to see that little blue frame again. Letting out a low hum, he finally spoke, "Odd-shaped fuel tank, huh? That one's based off mine, I suppose it is strange, all things considered." Their optics unfocused slightly for a klik, "Anything fuel-related I've tested on my own. It all works but testing the system together was on the agenda anyway. I have a diagnostic I will be running once the processor's in place, it's a standard program to test everything at once." They gave a single fleeting thought to the encroachment of this medbay's own testing program- as if they'd have the software needed for full-frame tests. They still didn't like the idea of anything of the sort, but they weren't about to start getting angry again over what was currently a non-issue. "I'll also be getting rid of... that garish  _ thing _ tonight, the first chance I get." They added, frowning, "That's non-negotiable- should take less than half an hour."

Vulcan pet their servos down Nati's arm, a gentle gesture, as they stood quietly for a bit. They looked to the mech's face and gave them a soft smile, "You know I respect that. I'm glad you like the way you are. That's... all that matters." They spent the next few moments silent, petting what they could of Nati's forearm, then looked towards Patches, still not making optic contact. "I'd like to be the one to move the frame but if we're busy here then... I suppose..." Their request was quiet, cowed. They sighed again and spoke softer still, "Tell me this isn't failure, Patches. Tell me I'm not giving up."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Tuesday at 11:01 PM**

Burner jogged in place, testing the lopsidedness with the glue. She frowned and glanced at Duo, "What's this about spitting acid?"

"S'probably better if you don't know," Spade said. 

Burner gave them a strange look but was distracted by something behind them, "Is Arclight al- aw he's  _ sleeping. _ Oh! ah." She quieted down considerably.

Spade felt the pressure of Arclight's helm on their back and threw a glance over their shoulder. He looked relaxed. A bit of relief flitted through their field, "If he's sleeping he's  _ out. _ Took a lot to get him awake earlier."

Burner cocked her helm but nodded somewhat approvingly, "I'm free now, how do you want your target? Running?"

"Running, maybe. Need more practice hitting a moving target."

"Aye sir," Burner chirped jokingly as she ran off at a swift pace around the room. She was internally cursing herself for not exploring the ship sooner. It felt so good to just  _ run. _ As she rounded the final corner before Spade's perch, she yelled "remember to lead your shot!"

Right. Spade took another glue grenade and engaged the data centers of their processor, some simple calculations should help. Gather data on movement per stride, estimate throwing speed, pull pin press button and-

Burner had just enough time to reach a servo down to try to smack it out of the way when it exploded, catching her shins, servo, and both pedes. She landed on the ground with a loud clang and the screech of metal against floor. The velocity had taken her a few feet from the detonation but still trapped her in the glue. It took a few moments of stunned blinking for Burner to collect herself again. "Fuck, you really got me that time didn't ye?" She said, breathless, " _ really _ got me. I-ow." She didn't look hurt more than what would eventually become a few bruises and scratches, but her frame was contorted in a way that would be painful for most people.

##  **Betta132** **Last Tuesday at 11:36 PM**

"Oh, you can- here, Nati," Patches hummed, stroking their cables back into place, "-you can absolutely move the frame yourself, if you want! I just thought it might be faster to have Reaver do it. But I'm certainly not going to  _ stop _ you from- this is your son, after all! I'm not... hm. Well. Correction. I'm not taking them away, but I'm going to very firmly place myself into this situation. For your sake, and for the little one's. You need  _ help _ ," he sighed, pulsing his field softly out against Vulcan's frame.  _ Friendliness/comfort/authority _ , as gentle as he could. "You aren't giving up. You haven't failed. Look- at the very,  _ very _ least, you got this spark out of where it was. Worst-case scenario, if it gutters, at least it spent this time  _ with someone _ instead of dying alone. That wouldn't be failure. And I don't think we're facing that, all right? I think we're facing a fight, but it's one we can win. Now, what if we..."

A moment to think, winglets quirked up in a 'wait a moment' gesture, then he pulsed a quick wave of  _ determination _ . "All right, how about this. You go and collect the frame, get Reaver to carry anything that's relevant to immediate use. I'll go down to the medbay and make sure a side room is cleared out to work in. The secondary surgery suite, I think. We can move them somewhere a bit cushier when it's actually a  _ they _ who'd object to waking up on a table. You get the frame down there, Acus can fill the other medics in, and  _ I _ can run a few scans on your spark to make sure you aren't about to keel over. Puppet- you're welcome to come. Nati, I think it'd be all right for you to have a look later if you're curious? But we have too many people doing things right now, don't need another set of pedes to trip over. I like the door artwork, by the way- do tell me about what you've been doing when we both get the chance. I should have good work for talking in a little while. Ah, who else are we- ah, Puppet! You may as well come, I suppose, but I am renewing my request to please not touch things in the medbay without asking. All right?"

Nati beamed, gently extricating their pedes from Puppet's servos to sit up. "I want to see later, if that's all right. You're building someone! I've heard so much about how it works, but I've never seen someone being built, only the pictures. Can I come later?" they asked, helm cocked slightly to eye Vulcan. 

.

Duo gestured dramatically to Burner, grinning magnificently. "Voila! Incapacitated! Oop- pardon-" and they skittered back up onto their pedes to go and free Burner. "No more glue throwing, please! Getting friend loose-" 

Arclight had been dozing, not quite fully asleep. At the sound of Burner hitting the ground, he gave a muffled noise of surprise, helm shooting up, and blinked fuzzily until he got a proper look at the situation. Hm- ah. Burner. On the ground in a puddle of glue. A slight urge to help, but, no- she was fine, and they probably shouldn't be approaching and handling a stranger. Therefore, he settled back down, optics dimming to offline, and giggled softly. "Got 'm. Nice," he murmured, giving Spade a gentle squeeze. 

Once next to Burner, Duo hesitated for a moment, gesturing to her whole frame and chirping "touch to get loose- okay?" to her, just in case. Permission granted, they gripped Burner's frame firmly in two servos apiece, carefully not on any areas with glue, and shifted her into a slightly more comfortable position, then got out of the way to show Spade. "Caught! Very caught. If needed, could come over, add another- stick to floor even better. But, now- get you loose," the twins declared, stroking her shoulders absentmindedly as they set to work on the glue around her arm. Just getting her arm loose, not peeling the glue off yet. "Stuck! Many thanks for demonstration. Want treats as apology for hitting floor?" 

There were eight arms between the two of them. Two servos to cut at the glue, two others to pry, and four to pry, move, or brace as needed, which meant that four servos wound up petting sometimes. Absent-mindedly, stroking over the areas that their fingertips landed on. No intent, just casual touching. Any form of contact with them meant there would be lots of petting.

April 17, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Wednesday at 1:16 PM**

Vulcan's optics brightened a bit, a tiny glimmer of hope. Something in them seemed to settle down at last, finally stop complaining. They looked at Nati and gave them a small smile, "Of course dear, I would be happy to show you. Then maybe we can talk about something other than frame ethics." They turned to Patches, echoing his determination, if quieter, and standing up a little straighter, "Alright."

Vulcan looked more confident now as they walked across the room to stand near Puppet. They caught a better look at the collection of wire sculptures and paused for a moment to admire them- there was  _ much _ to talk to Nati about. Bending down to pick the bot up, they sighed, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to carry you back -a matter of time." They tilted Puppet's chin up to look them in the optics, "And it's past your bedtime, dear- past mine, too. I'm not going to say you can't come, but I think you should consider staying in the room, or at least planning for when you do sleep, alright? I know it might be difficult with everything going on but It's important, your frame's still adapting to you."

Standing up again, Vulcan made it to the door and looked back, "It was a pleasure to meet you Nati. I hope I can get to know you better soon. And I'll see you back in the medbay, Patches." And with that, left for their room.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Wednesday at 11:07 PM**

Burner gave the two a friendly ping when they came closer and stayed put while they worked. She tried to follow their servos with her optics but couldn't quite figure one limb from another and quietly murmured under her breath, "Like a giant decapede's cuttin me free." When at last she was free again she stood up, albeit shakily, now with both pedes covered in dried glue. She first rolled one shoulder, then the other, wincing a bit as she got to the one she landed on but gave Duo a genuine smile anyway, "I kinda knew this was gonna happen, don't really need an apology but fuck if I'd say no to treats." She turned her helm to look at Spade, "Hey slag, did good. It was hardly practice but even then you got better."

Spade's brows raised a bit, "Remembered what I was built for, for once. You okay?"

Burner ex-vented with a tired huff, "Yeah fine! Need a breather."

"Gotta stop swatting them, Burner," Spade said, shaking their helm. Their optics were brighter, their stance more relaxed.

"One day I'm gonna do something really cool and you'll stop telling me to stop trying to do slag." Burner said then stuck her glossa out, "Anyway, can't exactly turn off my combat coding  _ and _ if that were a real grenade it would have worked. Better to have a blast beside you than directly at your pedes. All this instant-explosion stuff doesn't work well with me, though." She spent a few moments stretching her legs, then looked expectantly up at Duo, "Got anything sour?"

April 18, 2019

##  **Betta132** **Last Thursday at 3:44 PM**

Puppet mock-complained, a long chattering noise, but gladly clung to Vulcan for support. Their legs were getting tired anyway, and as soon as they'd squirmed around enough to get comfortable, they sat contentedly still. They hummed for a little while, too, but their vocalizer was getting tired and their voice raspy, so they sighed and went quiet. Mm. Okay. Time to... possibly fall asleep clinging to Vulcan. Wouldn't be the first time. 

"We should get you a sling to support them with," Patches chuckled, gesturing to Puppet, and set off in the other direction to get to the medbay. He'd have to try and make one of the rooms look a bit nicer. 

 

Back in Vulcan and Puppet's room, Reaver was holding Acus on his shoulders so Acus could un-fasten the insulating curtain from the ceiling. That would be the easiest way to safely transport the frame, just wrap it in the curtain for protection. Both looked over at Vulcan's arrival, but neither stopped what they were doing. Not that Reaver was doing much other than existing as a solid object. Which, handily, left him free to explain. "Patches let us know what's nest, and I thought we'd take the liberty of getting this down for you." 

 

There was only so much one could do to make the secondary surgery room in a medbay look friendly. They already had the soft colors on the wall instead of white, that helped a little. Add a couple of tinted lanterns to the countertops for light when the overhead surgical lights weren't being used, grab some extra blankets, and write "do not enter without shielding apron" on the door itself in a paint that could be wiped off later. Best he could do for now. Patches sighed and sat down in a chair he'd hauled in, ex-venting deeply, and shut his optics. Oh, this was... this was building a new life, and that was good, but a lot of this was hard. And Vulcan, argh. Trust issues. Fun to work with!

At least Puppet still liked him. Puppet was a sweetspark.

.

Duo made gratuitous dusting motions across Burner's frame, pulling off a couple of bits of loose glue. She wasn't completely de-glued, there was a considerable amount of it still on her plating, but she'd be able to move fine. It was fine! No worries! Just apologetic patting as they fished into subspace for treats, and for- ah! Duo hauled out a box apiece, then paused, both of them staring down at the box Scissors was holding. Syringe offered an expression akin to "beg your pardon", Scissors grinned, and both of them turned to face Duo. "Got regular treats, sour. Also got treats with  _ unusual _ " and my, that was a heavy 'this is a sexual context' undertone on that word "ingredient. Also tasty. Some of both?" they offered, jiggling both boxes at Duo. "Many treats. Only have  _ some _ . Want to try both, or only regular?"

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Thursday at 8:09 PM**

Vulcan gave the two a nod and walked carefully past the berthpad on the floor over to Puppet's nest. Very gently they lifted the bot from their frame and onto the berth. Humming low in their throat what could only be one of their specialized lullabies, they arranged the blankets around them- just enough to cover them. A slow in-vent and they put a careful servo on the top of Puppet's helm, stroking the centerline gently with their thumb. They drank in the sight for a moment, then sighed and leaned over to gently touch their forehelm to Puppet's and let out a heavy sigh. "I'll be back soon, dear," they murmured, before standing up.

Vulcan then turned to the berth with the frame on it and took their apron out of subspace. They went over to the chest in the corner and reached in far deeper than they should, in theory, bringing out what looked like a very thick blanket. They glanced at Reaver and Acus as they walked over to the berth and quietly explained, "No cable tension in the frame yet. Hydraulics aren't pressurized either. I wouldn't want to accidentally strain something during transport-" they began quickly, lifting up the frame underneath the metal cloth with two arms as they slipped the padded blanket underneath with the other two, "Much easier to do than you'd hope." From the bundle of blanket they retrieved a small block with a hole cut into it and slipped it underneath the frame's neck, then wrapped the whole thing a few times over until there was nothing more left to wrap. Over that went the metal shroud that had covered the frame before, and finally, when it was ready, the curtain. The entire bundle was much, much larger than the frame itself. They looked back at Reaver and Acus as they trotted around to the other side and placed two servos on the square box they'd taken out earlier. "I don't know if you checked in here, Acus, when you were examining the frame but this is where I'm storing the processor while I'm working on it," they said, voice soft, "I would like to entrust this to you, if that's okay? I have no doubt you know the importance of keeping it from breaking now." They then shifted to the flatter box,

"Components I haven't put in yet. Not as high priority as they can be re-made, but it would be a good thing for them not to be broken. In terms of other things..." 

Vulcan turned around and picked a circular sander from their tools and placed it on the bench next to the handheld saw, then picked up a datapad from one of the benches and put it into subspace. They eyed the electroplating baths for a klik before deciding those would be difficult to move. Hoping- praying almost- they had some of that equipment in the medbay. Finally looking back at the two, they finished, "That's it. I'll retrieve more things if they become relevant if the medbay doesn't have them on-servo. These are..." they looked down at the power tools, optics narrowing a bit, "to deal with fixing that  _ mistake. _ "

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Thursday at 9:14 PM**

Burner raised a brow and held out a servo, "You can't expect to sell me so hard and  _ not _ ask for one. I wanna try both but mostly I just wanna see what this special one's all about."

Spade scoffed amusedly, "There's an almost 100% chance it's transfluid. Just so you know."

Burner shot a look at them and waited until the candy was in her servo. She spent a half-klik holding it up to the light before curiosity and impatience got the best of her and she popped it into her mouth. Her back straightened almost immediately, optics wide as she bit down, "Wow that- yep.  _ Huh _ " She slowed down a bit to catch the flavors and swallowed with a thoughtful look on her face, "Subtle, definitely complements the, uhh, natural flavor. Now whose..." She aimed an optic at first Syringe, then Scissors and then turned to Spade, optics completely round. "Nooooo Spade don't tell me-"

Spade grinned, "I won't tell you anything."

##  **Betta132** **Last Thursday at 11:18 PM**

Puppet squeaked plantitively up at Vulcan, but slumped into the nest regardless, too tired to get up and chase. Squirming a bit, they snuggled further under the blankets until they were almost entirely hidden, save their optics, and watched everything. Did this mean they were going to have a sibling soon? They'd seen the frame before, of course, but Vulcan had been working on it for so long. Longer than Puppet's whole life, it felt like. It had felt like the frame would never be  _ done _ , but... now it sounded like it might be done soon. Did that mean they'd have to learn another name? How was that going to work- would someone else's berth have to fit in here now, instead of the table? Or would they sleep in Vulcan's berth? Puppet wasn't sure they wanted someone else in their nest, so. Probably in Vulcan's nest. Better.

Acus took the box, but was speaking very softly under his breath. Snarking, really. "I should very much hope anyone with medics' insignias would understand the importance of not slowing the construction of the frame meant to house an unstable spark," he muttered, not meaning anyone to hear it, but not really wanting to... leave that alone. Yes. He knew. Even if he was small and skinny and didn't look very confident, he knew. So he took the box, looked around the room, and nodded. "Yes. We do have this equipment. This equipment that is meant for making additional parts, which our medbay does on a regular basis because it is a medbay."

Snark. Good! Reaver smiled a fraction as he picked the tools up, pulsing a slight, proud vibe at Acus. The snark was a good sign, wasn't it? His body language was getting better, his colors coming back. Sweet little thing. He watched the flickering winglets for just a moment, then finished gathering everything to follow Vulcan. And, hm... perhaps he should distract Vulcan from things, without actually keeping him away from everything. "Vulcan. Do you mind telling me what you plan to do next? I am fascinated by this process, and you, I believe, need something relatively positive to think about. So. Tell me about how you are going to build this frame, if you would." 

.

Duo grinned with genuine pride, wiggling slightly apiece, then giggled again. "Not sharing  _ all _ details. But, mostly, Bracer.  _ Mostly _ . Big bot. See- tasty! And, nutrients. Good for self-repair. Other candy, regular candy, regular candy ingredients. This, some regular ingredients? Some unusual. All edible. Fun part is  _ harvest _ . Sounding rod! Textured false spike, too. Lube is good ingredient, adds smooth undernote. This- quick to make, easy. Like to make after. Snack for partner,  _ fluster _ for partner. Good fun!" they purred, then glanced at each other, realizing they were going after a lot of... hm. This was a description of. Well. 

Ah, well, Burner was fine. She wasn't upset, she didn't mind. They could chat. "Have... fluid kink. Bit of flustering kink. Mostly fluid kink. Lots of good squirming, lots of good  _ tastes _ . Adds fluster for fluster kink. More fluster, more turned-on, more fluids, more fun. Vicious cycle, but... viscous cycle."

April 19, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Friday at 10:38 PM**

Vulcan gave Acus tired, injured look. Evidently he'd made the bot angry somehow. He didn't know exactly what he'd done but he vowed he'd make it better, or do his best to... later. Right now was the at once immensely terrifying and relieving process of getting help. He was exceedingly careful as he picked up the bundle of frame. It felt like his arms were wrapped around his own life and it showed in his optics. With a deep breath, he stood up a bit straighter and led the way to the medbay. He was slower this time, making sure he kept pace with Reaver. It took a minute for him to consider speaking. 

"Well, Reaver, first is fixing everything." Vulcan said, voice quiet, "I'm going to get consultations from the rest of the medics so we find... everything." There was an edge to their tone. They took a shuddering in-vent, pulling their armful of frame and padding closer to them, "And then it's a race to fix everything before time runs out. I'll be dedicating every waking hour to working on the processor. Patches told me that... Forceps can help with that." Another medic who didn't seem to like him very much either. And that was before they knew how badly he'd messed up the frame. It'd been a while since he'd rubbed shoulders with people who hated him. He'd gotten rusty.

The group was getting close now and Vulcan could already feel apprehension rising within him. The hard part had yet to come. But he always knew it'd be hard, didn't he? A deep breath and he tried to keep himself together, "And then when it comes to fixing the rest of the frame I'll help where I can... where I'm allowed. As far as what Patches has told me, the T-cog must come out, and there needs to be some added filtration systems. He mentioned tweaking some lines, which is, I imagine, to compensate for the missing organs. Primus, I was sure I only had a couple weeks' more work. This could take  _ months. _ Acus de-" They stopped themself, mentally and physically- Acus was very well their peer, and now they would need to trust him at that. "Acus, did you notice anything in addition to that?" they said and pushed through the medbay door.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Last Friday at 11:09 PM**

Burner cackled loudly at the pun, "Viscous!  _ HA. _ Yeah I'd hope so." She chuckled a bit more and leaned back appraisingly, giving the both of them a very obvious eye-down. A brow perked up, "You know you two sound like a lot of fun. Think if you were femmes I'd let you take all the liquids you want."

"Twins," Spade chimed in.

Burner popped the other candy into her mouth and threw them a weird look, "What?"

" _ Twins _ Burner, they're on the same system- they share thoughts."

Burner frowned at them for a moment, trying to put together that information as she flicked the candy around in her mouth. Finally she squinted and turned to Duo, "Wait do you two like," a vague servo motion sort of like a blossoming explosion, "like, in sync? Together?"

"Yes" Spade said enthusiastically before Duo got a chance to respond.

Burner spun around to give them the dirty optic, "YOU! On this slag again! You don't need to get other people to tell you what you learned about them!" Spade was laughing wheezily. Burner turned back to Duo, "I am gonna need confirmation on that though-  _ if _ you're comfortable."

##  **Betta132** **Last Friday at 11:39 PM**

"You have four more people working on this with you," Reaver reminded, gently, and sent Vulcan a surge of  _ comfort/reassurance/soothe _ . "I'd imagine that hurries things considerably, doesn't it? I'm sure it's upsetting to learn that you have more work to do, but... is it  _ this much _ more? Because you have  _ help _ now, and- have you  _ seen _ the storage room in here? I'm quite sure they have just about every type of medical equipment used by our species in recent history, and even some ancient ones," he chuckled, pausing to let Vulcan and Acus through the door into the side room, then walked inside to set everything on a table.

Above one of the counters was a small cabinet set completely into the wall, where it would be harder to run into any of the contents, and Acus set the processor-box inside for protection. It would be well out of the way now. Winglets up slightly, he turned to look back at the berth, at the little frame on it, then up at Vulcan. "Well, that, and you should  _ absolutely _ remove the cradle. It is much less of an issue to remove from a frame not yet accustomed to it. Beyond that... no. The only organs a frame needs for functionality, aside from the spark structures, are the immune systems, the fuel tank, and the filtration system. The rest of the frame, the... joints, struts, support structures, all look fine.  _ You _ should focus as much as you can on the processor. We can handle the soft organs easily enough. It's rather a good thing you've made them small- easier to get the materials," he commented, rocking back on his pedes slightly. Then, after a momentary pause, "do you have any idea of their name?"

"Right- we can do this!" Patches declared, stretching, and kneaded his servos together gently to help loosen the joints. "Now, I don't know how well you get on with Forceps. I think they might not like you much at first. They're a Decepticon, and you look terribly like the sort of mech the Decepticons wanted gone. I'm sure you've noticed the looks you get. Try not to take it personally. I suspect they'll get on at least moderately well with you once they get over the initial response. They aren't  _ friendly _ , though, so don't expect that. One thing that helps- don't remark on it if they stop talking. Selective mutism, their voice only functions in medical circumstances. Ignore that, keep talking. I'm hoping you know a little sign?" 

.

The twins grinned at each other, then flopped down onto the floor with another bottle of solvent and a pair of chisels apiece. Best round up all the glue. If they got it pried up, they could turn it back into glue again! And, hey, why not answer? She wasn't exactly shy. Though,  _ Syringe _ was, just a bit, and it showed in his blush as they talked. "Without considerable and unpleasant effort, yes. Frames stay synced.  _ Excellent _ for coordination! And, yes. Simultaneous. Lots of fun. So, technically," a pause and a gesture at the candies, "slightly involved. Mostly partner. Lots of squirms and good noises." 

Bracer had been so much  _ fun _ ! Big boy. Tasted good. Possibly younger than them. Very sweet, very caring, lots of petting and mouthing, made fun noises when they touched him right. Strong thighs. Nearly broke their ropes. Burner might not be interested, but, hey- that was fine! Plenty of other, mm, volunteers. Just make it known they wanted someone to show a good, kinky time and make candy out of it. Blackspark had been  _ more _ than willing provided he got most of the candy, something about nutrients for the sparkling. 

Now- reflexes! Winglets up, they chucked a piece of the rubbery-hard glue at Spade, aiming to land just in front of them. "Catch!" 

They weren't going to  _ hit _ Spade, of course, but wouldn't hurt to check that he was moving right. His voice sounded a little odd.

Spade was  _ laughing _ , and Arclight's field curled out in a quiet, contented purr before he fully realized it, squeezing around the small bot. That was... that was a good sound.

April 20, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 1:15 AM**

Vulcan carefully unwrapped the last of the covering around the little frame, leaving the single metal-cloth on the berth and carefully folding both the thicker blanket and the curtain to put on the floor. They aimed what could only be described as a  _ glare _ at the chassis area and turned around to retrieve the large hand saw from the table, "Trust me, Acus, it will be gone soon." His voice was low, almost a growl as he swept back to the frame. He worked quickly to remove the chassis plate and expose the offending structure. Holding the saw, they found their servos trembling and halted immediately. They let out a long sigh and set the saw down again. "I'm too angry, I can't do this," they whispered. They closed their optics, "All this time I thought I was doing them a favor- giving them an  _ opportunity. _ I wanted every one of them to be able to grasp the  _ stars _ if they wanted it, not open them up to  _ mind control. _ Of course the alloy is made with zero percent metallico it's not for  _ them. _ "

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 1:23 AM**

Vulcan gripped the berth with a tight fist. The metal creaked underneath their servo. It was only when they opened their optics again to the frame's sleeping face, the one they'd designed with all the love they could muster, that they seemed to start calming down. They released their servos from the edge of the berth and kept their optics on the face, "I know exactly what I'll name him. It took a while, always does." They reached a servo out, one formerly putting dents in the berth and placed their palm on the frame's forehelm, exceedingly careful, "I don't dare say it aloud, don't wish to tempt fate."

After a few moments of quiet, Vulcan sighed again, picked up the saw, and began the work in earnest with a quiet "I'm sorry, dear." Within a few minutes of thoughtful but deliberate sawing, they pulled out the majority of the structure. A couple more minutes and they'd sawed down the connector pieces to be as flush as they could be with the rest of the cavity. As the saw powered down, they shook their helm and addressed Patches, "I've met Forceps, now. Just today. I think they hate me." They wouldn't meet his optics as they swept over to the table again and this time picked up the sander. Holding the end up where they could see, they adjusted a knob at the bottom as what looked like larger grains started to emerge on the head, "I'm not new to setting personal dislike aside for professionalism's sake, but... by Primus it's exhausting."

It didn't take too long to remove the last vestiges of the alloy that connected the cradle from the rest of the frame, changing the setting on the sander to increasingly smaller grits until the entire inner chassis chamber seemed to gleam. They went in with a rag to clean out dust and solid pieces. With a mighty heave, they ex-vented through their lips to clear away any dust caught in the spark chamber itself and then finally went over it again with a sanitized rag. They let out a long ex-vent and gazed at the newfound gap. It felt wrong. They narrowed their optics slightly and sighed, "I think I'll melt down the leftover scrap, mix some metallico in  and build an extra layer of shielding, that seems appropriate, yes?" They didn't quite know who they were talking to.

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 11:50 AM**

Spade startled as the piece came at them and scrambled to avoid it. The glue hit them in their lower shin with a light smack. They looked intently down at the floor of the cart, wings rising and then sighed and picked it up. Turning the piece around in their servos, they relaxed a bit, just glue.

“Now what was that for?” Burner said indignantly at Duo, “you think the flier who worked as an  _ archivist _ is gonna be able to catch anything?”

Spade stood up a little straighter, trying to brush off the moment of instinctive fear,”a-and what does  _ that _ mean huh?”

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 12:05 PM**

“You think those tiny, piddly little servos are gonna be able to catch anything? You think this  _ nerd _ has any coordination?” Burner’s winglets twitched upward slightly but her optics gave away she wasn’t actually angry.

“Nerd? You take that  _ back _ ” Spade threw the glue bit at Burner. It pinged off her winglet before she could turn around to bat it away.

Burner turned around to Spade, brow raised, “you got me now and I couldn’t react in time, are you happy now?”

Spade wore a smug grin, “sure.”

##  **Betta132** **Yesterday at 1:31 PM**

"Forceps has a quick, if quiet, temper. Just... go with it, ignore the snark, he'll warm up eventually. At the very least, he can work with you. He's not going to let his work suffer, let someone else suffer, because he doesn't like you," Patches hummed, and leaned over to inspect the empty chamber area. "Sounds like a plan to me. Looks good. Processor  _ first _ , though," he coaxed, and made a gentle shooing motion at Vulcan. "Do you think you can swallow your pride enough to go and tell Forceps that you need help? Because  _ that _ would do the trick, I'd say. Literally just go and tell them 'hello, I need your help with something for the good of another'. That would do it, if you can sound at least moderately genuine, so... can you?" 

Patches had handed a 'pad to Reaver with an ingredients list, and, rather than watch someone's (impending) frame be cut into, he'd gone to gather up what he could from the medbay storage. Small electroplating tank, raw materials, whatever this was in this picture, some sort of laser cutter, a large bottle of dye suitable for veins, in short enough things that he needed a cart. This all  _ looked _ like enough to build a frame with, though he didn't particularly know what that would require. No one had taught him how to build a frame, after all! It hadn't really been needed. They hadn't needed anyone custom-built. Just what the hotspot gave them, and the occasional birthed-frame. But, this was probably what they needed, and- what else? Ah, right- vein-grade energon. A lot of it. Probably for later.

.

Duo, somehow, looked like they were puppies being scolded for something they hadn't known was against the rules. Nearly flat against the floor, they glanced over at Spade and gestured at them, indignant but quiet. "Survived a war! Gotta have, what,  _ one _ reflex?" they grumbled, glancing apologetically over at Spade, then grinned as the little archivist perked up. Good! There! 

Arclight lifted his helm again, arms coming up, welders clicking out, ready to murder whatever the threat was- but, no, Spade was fine, it was glue. Curling up again, he tucked his helm back against Spade, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Mm. Fuckin'... throwin' things," he complained, field pulsing a soft, gentle surge to Spade, then moved to eye the glue. "That stuff... burn? Melt? I got welders," he noted, lifting one servo, and eyed the glue puddle. "Fire's good." 

It wasn't like it would  _ spread _ in here, not on this floor. Floor wouldn't burn. Didn't want to go lighting whatever that was on fire without knowing if it was going to put off fumes or whatnot.

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 10:56 PM**

Vulcan sighed and drew their fingers along their brows, "The frame itself was a point of pride but by Primus, the processor isn't. For centuries there was only  _ one _ mech who could build one from scratch and he had a shop full of people to build the composite elements. Even sourcing parts from dead frames was a challenge because you can't use the structure the frame builds." They grimaced, "It is a massive undertaking for a single person. It's not difficult to say I cannot finish it on my own." They put a servo on the doorframe and turned back to face Patches, " And if Forceps is as good as you say they are, then perhaps there is hope yet."

As they stood out in the medbay proper again, Vulcan realized they didn't know exactly where Forceps was. They took a moment to lay back carefully against the wall just to take stock in themself. Patches seemed confident in the abilities of his staff, which was a reassurance, if a small one. He could never quite tell with the mech if it was earnestness or honest truth. They tried to banish the thought of coming in to find the poor little frame vandalized because of something minor they'd done. It was evidently easy for people to hate them here, which didn't give them much confidence. They just had to trust- trust Patches, they could do. Trust that he could keep a tight enough ship to prevent something like that from happening, they would have to try. The Racer's brew was starting to eat at them, too- that all-too-familiar ache just above their fuel tank. Their entire frame was twitchy, too. They outwardly winced at the thought of what the next draw would feel like, the amount of stress they had today. 

Still, they had a job to do. Vulcan pushed themself off the wall and caught the movement of a large curtain from the corner of their optic. They could hear some mumbling, some shifting, but no response. Perhaps that was...? They walked briskly over to near the curtained area but stopped before they got close enough to walk in. 

"Forceps are you there?" They said, speaking up a bit, "If so, could you spare a moment to talk? I..." They took a deep breath, "I need help. I need  _ your _ help."

.

##  **Malusdraco** **Yesterday at 11:20 PM**

Spade relaxed a bit more at Arclight's attention and leaned back into his arms. They hummed low in their throat, "Fire  _ is _ good. Maybe if we're lucky it'll burn some weird color."

"What, no, don't light the  _ gym _ on fire." Burner said, "I just find this place and you're thinkin of burning it down?" She looked to Duo, the two looked almost looked like  _ they _ were the ones stuck to the floor. "You two know proper fire safety, right? You gotta, all those chemicals," she said, giving the closest bot a scrutinizing squint.

Spade angled their helm a little away from the three and talked in a voice only Arclight could hear, "Felt like you were going to sleep. Are you... do you want to? Probably need it." They began to whisper just in case, "I've modified the locks in my room in the medbay so even people with the keycode can't get in if I set it. S'safe that way. Can teach you how to unlock it too."

##  **Betta132** **Yesterday at 11:36 PM**

The  _ instant _ the door was shut, Patches turned to look up at Reaver, winglets lowering, making the sort of face usually reserved for people who had done something foolish with something heavy. "Tell me everything you've seen him doing to himself that you  _ know _ he shouldn't be doing. I don't know how much he'll admit, so- spill."

Okay, that was fair. Reaver spilled, as requested. He also commed Vulcan, softly, trying to head off the nervousness from that... whatever they'd ingested earlier.  _.:Vulcan. I used to have a compatriot who was... prone to logical leaps in somewhat illogical directions. What helped her was to talk about what was going on, what she thought might happen. That way, we could work through whether something was likely, and either dismiss it as unlikely or plan for it. So... would you share your worries with me? If it helps at all, the fire extinguishing systems in here are fairly impressive. I, ah. May have inadvertently tested that, at one point,:. _ he admitted, wryly, wings fluttering in a gesture Vulcan was going to miss.

"Here," Forceps called, then huffed, annoyed. "Can't hear you through the curtain." 

What they'd  _ meant _ was, "either wait a minute or speak up". What they had  _ not _ meant was "open the curtain". But, evidently, that was how it got interpreted. Forceps' helm whipped around and they aimed an astonished stare at Vulcan, then gestured widely to the curtain with the servo not currently busy with. Well. 

Bracer had encountered an issue re. the string attached to something not being strong enough. As such, he was on a table, both servos over his face in embarrassment, making a bit of a puddle under him. Mostly due to the fact that Forceps' entire servo up his valve was displacing the lube already in there. The medics didn't seem to mind this too much, so he'd just... come to ask one of them to, please, get this out of his valve. He couldn't  _ reach _ this deep. Normally it was fine! But. Oops. Peeking out between his fingers, he muttered "oh, excuse me, hi" and hid again, armor fluffing a bit in mortification. 

Forceps wasn't really speaking at the moment, but was practically screaming "what the  _ slag _ " with their body language, still frozen in that motion of gesturing at the curtain. Really! What the Pit! There was a curtain! You ask!

.

Duo looked around, then shrugged and thumped on the floor, which made generic metallic noises. "Won't burn. No smoke detectors in here- good for Reaver and others to practice with fire things. Glue, burns fine, not too hot, no fumes or nasty smoke. Weird colors. Can burn," they summarized, and made as if to toss a chunk of glue at Spade, then reconsidered and scooted over instead. A piece or two of glue on the floor, a reasonable distance away from the padding, then they handed a small bit to Arclight. "Ignite?"

"Ignite," Arclight echoed, softly, offering them the tiniest smile. Squinting, he waited for them to back up, then flicked a welder on and held the flame. He watched the fire for a moment, but found it dissatisfying to watch for entertainment- it didn't flicker, didn't waver, didn't move. That was great for most purposes, but not for watching. Therefore, he brought the glue chunk up closer and lit it, then held the now-burning glue in servo for a few moments before tossing it to land with the rest. It burned with an interesting core of blue-purple and a clear edge around the orange, green lines wavering up through it now and then, which was  _ thoroughly _ satisfying to watch. Optics dimming, they settled down onto the berth pad again, lying curled gently around Spade's frame as Duo skittered over to sit near Burner again. Little... campfire-sized flame to watch. "Maybe. After... 'fter this. Like th' fire. Want t'... watch it," he muttered, then, glancing up at them, clarified. "Don't jus'... burn slag everywhere. Don' wanna set everythin' on fire. Just. Some things, sometimes. 's good." 

He'd had one or two people think his interest in fire was somehow alarming. Which... why? He was a  _ welder _ , he  _ had _ fire, it was reasonable for him to like it. It wasn't as though he went about setting everything on fire! Just... things that nobody needed, sometimes, when it was safe to do so. Especially things that gradually burned down into a black puddle and showed fun colors as they did.

April 21, 2019

##  **Malusdraco** **Today at 12:54 AM**

_.:It's... not fire so much as-:. _ Vulcan was beginning to respond as they got a faceful of-  _ oh _ dear.  _ "MY GOODNESS _ I am sorry," they began and instinctively reached out as if to comfort, but stopped before they touched anything. To be in such a precarious position and have a  _ stranger _ who'd just walked in on a procedure of such a nature and feel their servos on you would be just about the worst thing. They retreated all four arms, pinning them to their frame and backed out, pulsing the strongest wave of  _ apology _ they could manage as they flung the curtain shut again.  _ Oh _ that was foolish. "T-try to relax, dear," they stammered, their voice distorting the slightest bit, "You'll not find judgement from- from me, I'll just. I'll wait out... here- I'm  _ so _ sorry."

Vulcan propelled themself as fast as they could away from that corner and found an unoccupied berth to sit on. They threw their face into their servos and leaned over as far as they could. Their winglets raised as if to shield them from the overhead lights. That was abominable. Why had they  _ done _ that. What had possessed them to-  _ Primus and Unicron _ they were a mess. They could feel their face go hot under their servos, ready for what was perhaps the fourth breakdown that day. They groaned quietly. Forceps was sure to hate them now, if they didn't already. Patches, they didn't know. He could hate them and they probably wouldn't be able to tell. Reaver seemed the only one to like them at all. They took a shuddering breath and commed him.  _.:I just... did a very foolish thing and I don't think Forceps would spit in my direction anymore even if they were so inclined:. _ That poor stranger, maybe someday, if they lived through today, they'd have a chance to get to know him- explain to him that he caught them at the beginning of their losing their mind.  _.:I hate this:. _ They couldn't quite stop themself at this point.  _.:Thousands and thousands of years around bots who hated each other enough to maim and dismember each others' projects. I'm so sick of being around people who hate me. I don't have the _ time  _ anymore. I can't... I can't do it again:. _ Their tears came back, dripping through their fingers,  _.:I can't _ live  _ with the fear someone's going to ruin Atom's frame while I can't see it:. _

It took a klik for what they'd said to sink in, their entire frame went cold, stiff. What had they  _ done. _

They'd doomed it all.(edited)

.

##  **Betta132** **Today at 1:19 AM**

"You're good!" Bracer called, and then broke down giggling. And he didn't stop giggling, either, even when Forceps thwapped his knee for moving. Oops. Someone ought to figure out how to lock curtains.

Forceps got a grip on the wayward toy and pulled it out, so Bracer shut his panels and stood up, rather cautiously peering around the curtain. "Hey, really, it's f- oh no, are you okay? Are you- ah man," he muttered, and took a step closer, but hesitated. Was this, what- a trauma thing? Because he was pretty sure the scene wouldn't have been  _ this _ upsetting for most people, so...?(edited)

_.:Oh, come on now. I'm sure it's fine. Forceps is prickly, not evil, it's... oh. You- what? Oh:. _ Reaver managed, and, at a loss for further words, relayed... basically everything to Patches. Maybe Patches would know what to do. 

Patches more or less knew what to do, yes. It all started with yelling "they think WHAT", loud enough to be heard through the door, and then throwing the door open. A pause to put the apron aside, then he marched out of the room, over to Vulcan, and took a bit of a risk. Namely, shoved Vulcan a bit further back onto the berth, climbed onto it, and hugged him. Tight. Deep pressure, calming field (or, well- as calming as he could get it while  _ pissed _ ), and something that would either help Vulcan or, at least, distract him. "I'm going to need some names," he declared against Vulcan's frame, winglets up and quivering in fury. "Mostly so that if we ever find them, I can let them onto the ship, but only long enough for us to take off and then  _ throw them out _ !" 

Reaver followed Patches, pausing to take in the scene, and managed to piece things together. Bracer looking embarrassed, berth visible with a  _ puddle _ on it, Forceps looking sort of exasperated and holding- whoops. Ah. "Oh, Vulcan," he sighed, voice soft, and reached as if to pet their helm. Couldn't reach much more of them. "You're fine. Forceps only looks annoyed. If they hated you, they would probably be trying to  _ stab _ you. And that's  _ Bracer _ \- have you met him? He has, literally, forgiven people for  _ stabbing _ him. I doubt he's angry."

"Nope," Bracer contributed, shifting slightly on his pedes, looking embarrassed- but not too embarrassed to take his toy back from Forceps. He'd still use it! Just not put it up anywhere. Maybe someone could rig a stronger string to it. "Really, are you... okay? What's going on with- was that  _ me _ ? Because I know I'm not the prettiest, but-" and he was definitely joking there, trying to help. "Do I need to... get you something? Leave? Something else? I can mostly do things."

##  **Malusdraco** **Today at 1:53 PM**

Vulcan was elsewhere. Their frame quaked under Patches's arms. "I said his name," their voice was near a whisper as despair ripped through their vocalizer and tore its way down their frame in a painful shudder. "I said his  _ name, _ " they repeated weakly. Their shoulders shook, they couldn't believe what they'd done. Thousands of years of work, whatever this setup had done to their frame, every single tear they'd shed over its progress, and they'd gone and done that. Everything was for naught. Atom was as good as dead, now. 

At last Vulcan leaned into Patches, sliding a servo over the containment unit. "Dear little Atom," they murmured. The name brought with it such great love and profound despair it twisted their waning spark in knots. They'd had a long time to think of one, seeing as their normal routine of craft frame-purchase organs-test-teach was so thoroughly disrupted by the war. It had struck them one day, as if some spirit-muse had pressed its lips to their forehelm with all the love of someone who wanted to see them flourish. It was so perfect, they knew sharing it with anyone would be the downfall of either the dormant spark or them. 

Their shaking frame let out a very tired sob finally, "Oh I've doomed him."

##  **Betta132** **Today at 2:17 PM**

"Oh,  _ this _ again," Patches scoffed, and gave Vulcan a firm squeeze regardless of his annoyance. Glancing over Vulcan's shoulder at Reaver, he sighed heavily, petting Vulcan's back. "A superstition that you shouldn't say the name of the person you're building before they're in their frame. That it somehow leads to disaster. Which- what?" he grumbled, scooting back a bit, and hauled Vulcan further onto the berth with him before unceremoniously climbing into their lap. Grabbing their face, he gave them a gentle shake, leaned in to bump his forehelm against theirs, and gave their helm a slightly firmer shake. "Stop that! Look at me, you fool," he ordered, his voice as firm as he could get it. "You've doomed nothing! You are a frame-builder, your realm is science- stop giving so much credence to the power of your own single word! What- do you think some claw of fate is going to descend from the cosmos to stab you both? Do I need to alert Crucible to keep an optic out for demons attacking the ship? Don't be  _ ridiculous _ \- it's a  _ word _ , not a  _ spell _ . You are not a god! You do not speak fate into being with a word! Stop crying about something you haven't done and- Atom, right? Shush." 

Leaning back enough to free Vulcan's arms, he cupped a random two of the blacksmith's servos over the containment unit, holding onto the other two. "You are going to be fine. Atom is also going to be fine. He might have some coordination issues, he might need glasses later, he might need some help at first, but he's going to  _ live _ . Because of  _ you _ . And I need you to think about that, okay? You're panicking, and- what did you take? Because if it's anything like what Five-Alarm keeps making, then I doubt it's helping this situation any, so- shush. Look at me."

##  **Malusdraco** **Today at 6:23 PM**

"It's happened before," Vulcan whimpered. They were resistant to Patches's pushing at first but relented easily. They just didn't have the energy anymore. Their limbs were heavy. Their chassis hurt. They could feel the damage from Salvo's earlier blows to their face start to sink in. And then there was Patches, grabbing their attention quite literally. They finally gained enough lucidity to realize just how much of a scene they were making. This wasn't a berthroom anymore, it was a public space, there was a stranger in the room whom they'd just stepped in on. Who was, their optics darted back, yes, watching them. Part of them wanted to fix themself up, make themself presentable- this was  _ public _ this was  _ NOT _ the place for a breakdown. The rest of them was tired, raw,  _ scared, _ and in no way able to fix that any time soon. 

Vulcan couldn't meet Patches's gaze and closed their optics instead. Atom was still there, underneath their fingers. If anything had happened they would have been alerted through the system. Their breath seemed to fight them a bit, the room was full of people, and their mind was scrambled but they knew if they focused enough, they could feel Atom's tiny, sleeping field from the back of the machine. It never changed, never flickered, only softly, slowly modulated. It was only when it disappeared that they'd know for sure it was all over. Lo and behold it was still there, unchanged, but unmistakably an EM field. Eventually their frame seemed to ease a bit, their winglets lowered slightly. Of course it wasn't over yet. They weren't about to give up while Atom still lived, while  _ they _ still lived. They would continue, they would do their best- anything they could, until disaster struck. 

And if they were lucky, they'd slip between the universe's gaze and succeed.

When they opened their optics again, they didn't look away from Patches. Their face was tired, and as they traveled through a few different grimaces trying to figure out what to say, another couple tears dislodged from their optics. "It's- it's probably not helping, no," they managed to say, tone noncommittal, "It's a stimulant. I don't know the... pharmacological name. Common name, Racer's Brew- at least when mixed with energon." They leaned over and spoke a bit quieter, "If you need more than that I can show you the bottle... Don't tell Puppet about it, I don't want them getting the idea it's okay to use."

Vulcan made an attempt to dislodge their helm from Patches's servos to bury it in his shoulder instead. They didn't know, was it acceptable to hug one's medic when they were trying to get information from you? Was it unprofessional? They didn't think they much cared, and brought all four arms to wrap around his frame. They wheezed a bit, and held on for a while, field fluttering something quietly grateful.

##  **Betta132** **Today at 7:36 PM**

"See?" Patches cooed, and let go of Vulcan's frame, gladly letting them snuggle in however they wanted. "Here we go. Breathe. And, no, it has not happened before. It's  _ superstition _ . Sometimes people do something they think they shouldn't, and it unnerves them enough that they make mistakes. Sometimes, someone does something a superstition says not to, and something goes wrong for an unrelated reason. The fates are not sitting around listening for you to use a name so they can mess you up!" he scolded, then set to petting all the tension out of Vulcan's spine. "You need to put those thoughts aside for everyone's good. Breathe, Vulcan. Especially with the stimulant, fool, do you know what that can do to you? You've met Five-Alarm, I'm sure. Probably seen him talking to his own hallucinations. He's not delusional, by the way, not as regards those, but- he does hallucinate. Frequently. And I'm fairly sure some of it is due to damage from stimulant overusage. I don't think you need to be hallucinating while you're caring for Puppet  _ and _ Atom, do you? Nor do you need spark palpitations, especially not now. As your medic, I am ordering you to stop taking that. You and Forceps can handle the processor, and Scalpel, Acus and I can get the organs done easily and then assist on the processor components. You just breathe for me."

"And I'm certainly no medic, but," Reaver hummed, pulling the curtain shut around the berth and sitting by Vulcan, "I can try to help in other ways. Puppet seems to like me well enough, I can keep an optic on them if you think it's required. At the very least, I can make myself useful with bringing things- and I do have reasonably nimble servos. I've been borrowed here before to assist with things. Breathe for me, Vulcan, dear. Ground yourself. Forceps doesn't hate you, all right? At worst, you've annoyed them. They're not difficult to annoy, either. So... I think the reasonable thing to do here would be for you to show them what you have right now, and what needs to be done, with the processor. But first, you're going to need to relax. Yes? No point in trying to have technical conversations if you're busy sobbing. So... let it out, work it through, and then wake up. Okay?" he purred, field extending and thrumming soft reassurance to mix with Patches' field.

Patches had a trick he could pull. A deep in-vent, drawing his field in, then he let his field surge out with all the power he could muster.  _ Reassurance/comfort/confidence _ , strong enough to push someone else's frame away against its edges. Good for calming a panicked carrier. Vulcan seemed to be calming down, but he was still making some unpleasant noises. Poor dear. 

"Forceps, by the way, would like me to inform you that- let me see if I can pronounce the body language right," Bracer declared from outside the curtain, and pitched his voice into something sort of wry. "Terribly unprofessional, but I suppose it works, yes? They do seem less panicked. Congratulations." 

"Oh, the world's too much of a mess to worry about professionalism. Unless you have any better ideas? Don't pretend you don't lean on every patient you think could use the contact," Patches called, playfully snarking, and leaned back from Vulcan's front slightly. "Besides, I worked with babies, and baby-carriers. You can't do that without contact. In fact- you  _ have _ to hold sparklings! Sometimes it's the best thing to do, holding someone. See?"


End file.
